Alex finally looks up, and there’s something in his eyes I haven’t seen before. Determination.
“I want to say yes to things. Even if they scare me.” He takes a sip of his coffee, as if fortifying himself. “I went to the fair with everyone. I rode the bumper cars. I watched Gerard do karaoke, and none of it killed me. It was…” He pauses, searching for the word. “Fun.”
“It was pretty fun,” I agree, thinking of the Ferris wheel. Of the kiss.
“I want more of that. More moments where I’m present instead of forever waiting for something to go wrong.” Alex’s grip on his cup tightens. “Kyle helps. He makes me feel safe enough to try. But I also want to be brave on my own sometimes. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah.” I nod like a bobblehead. “That makes a lot of sense.”
We stand in comfortable silence for a moment. The espresso machine hums. The professor’s snores punctuate the quiet. Outside, a student bikes past with a surfboard strapped to their back.
“What about you?” Alex asks. “What are you looking forward to this year?”
The answer should be easy.Championship. Graduation. Career.Instead, what comes out is, “I want to do something fun with Ryan tomorrow. It’s my day off, and I want to take him somewhere, but I can’t figure out the perfect location.”
Alex blinks at me, and I realize I’ve just unloaded my romantic dilemmas on the shyest person I know.Great job, Jacoby. Very smooth.
“What does Ryan like?” he asks, surprising me.
“Stars. Old things. Being outside but not too outside.” I run a hand through my hair, frustrated. I’ve been doing that a lot, especially now that I’ve stopped with the gel spikes and let my hair just flop. “He’s not big on crowds or loud places. He likes quiet, but not boring quiet. Interesting quiet.”
“Interesting quiet,” Alex repeats, rolling the phrase around.
“I know that doesn’t make sense?—”
“No, it does.” He takes another sip of his coffee. “Kyle’s the same way. He pretends he hates everything, but if you give him something calm and structured, he relaxes.”
“So what do you do with Kyle when you want to do something special?”
Alex’s cheeks flush pink. “We, um. We have picnics sometimes. In the park near campus. The one with the big oak trees.”
“Picnics?”
“Kyle packs the food because he’s very particular about nutrition, and I bring a blanket and a book, and we sit. We’ll watch the clouds or the birds or whatever.” Alex’s voice goes soft with affection. “Sometimes we don’t even talk. We just exist in the same space. It’s nice.”
A picnic. Such a simple idea. Such anobviousidea. Why didn’t I think of that?
Ryan wouldlovea picnic. Somewhere quiet, with a good view of the sky. I could pack sandwiches. A blanket. Maybe some of those fancy sparkling waters. We could find a spot away from the main paths, somewhere private, and be together.
“Alex,” I say, “you’re a genius.”
His flush deepens into crimson.
“Seriously. A picnic. That’s perfect.” I’m already mentally planning the menu. Turkey and Swiss for me, something equally simple for Ryan. Maybe some of the brownies from the bakery case here—I can claim my employee discount.
“I’m glad I could help,” Alex murmurs, both pleased and mortified by the attention.
I hold out my hand for a high-five. “Seriously. You just solved my whole problem.”
Alex stares at my outstretched palm as though it might bite him. His eyes dart from my hand to my face and back again, calculating the social mathematics of the situation. For a moment, Ithink he might actually bolt. Then he raises his own hand and connects it with mine.
The slap is barely audible. More of a gentle press, really. But it counts.
“Okay!” Alex’s voice comes out approximately two octaves higher than normal. “Good! Great! I should—Kyle might be awake—I need to—bye!”
He’s out the door before I can respond, iced coffee clutched to his chest, the bell chiming frantically in his wake. Through the window, I watch him power-walk across the grass.
I shake my head, grinning despite myself. Alex Donovan, social butterfly in training. He’s trying, at least. That counts for something.
