Chapter Text
You know that I want to be with you all the time.
Jonah snaps the headphones over his ears and half closes his eyes, back against the bench. It’s a romantic song, too peppy for his current mood, but he can’t stop listening to it. He taps one foot against on the tiled floor while Grant students shove by each other.
Oh darling, darling, baby you're so very fine
You know that I won't stop until I make you mine
He’s so sick of love songs. Andi loves them: Taylor Swift and Meghan Trainor and Beyonce. So maybe there’s a reason behind his newfound annoyance with sappiness on the radio. But this one keeps sticking in his head. Jonah imagines reaching out his hand and taking someone else’s. And for the first time in a very, very long time, the person holding his hand in his imagination isn’t Andi. And it’s not Amber, or Natalie, or anyone else.
As half of Grant high school shoves by him, Jonah pushes the headphones down around his neck. He can hear his heart pounding way-too-loudly in his chest, and there’s a continuous beat and song inside his head.
Until I make you mine
And all he can think is: just in time for Valentine’s Day.
————
“Driscoll, catch!” Andi ducks out of the way just in time for Buffy to catch the miscellaneous basketball team member’s thrown shoe. She stares at it in confusion, but Buffy just shoves it into her backpack, gives a quick wave of thanks to the girl sprawled out on the bench, and turns back to Andi.
“Eleanor took my shoe on accident,” she explains, but Buffy’s eyes have already moved on from this conversation. They drift upwards to the large pink banner strung across Grant’s entrance, which is currently being pinned up and decorated with paper heart chains. Andi doesn’t stop to consider how an extra shoe can be taken accidentally and instead gapes up at the poster.
“Since when do we have a Valetine’s Day Dance?” Andi asks.
As if summoned by the deity of high school cheesiness, Student Council president Kip Warren steps into their path. “Since you juniors started sucking at raising money for our prom. We’re having a fundraiser dance—you buy candygrams and roses for people for three times the prices we bought them for. And we’re using that money to pay for a real prom, not one which you idiots scheduled in someone’s garage.” Kip storms away, and a lone senior—one of Amber’s friends—starts applauding.
“He’s way too salty. I heard that our student council planned a good prom but he’s just picky and annoying. Ugh,” Buffy says, glaring after him.
“And they’re probably spending more money on this dance then they’ll make from a few candygrams, honestly.” Andi bends over to grab a cardboard heart, which she reattaches to the wall.
“Cyrus is going to have a field day, though,” Buffy says. She looks curiously over at Andi. “Do you think you’ll go?”
Andi feels something rush through her: undeserved indignation, maybe, accompanied by an annoying blush she wishes would go away. “I mean… are you?”
“I would suggest the Good Hair Crew go, but you already know Cyrus is dedicating this night to his boy.” Buffy shrugs. “We could go together? Single and unattached?”
If Andi were eating cereal right now, she would choke. She hasn’t been to any date-requiring function since her year-long disaster of a breakup with Jonah. And now Buffy Driscoll had the audacity to stand in front of hear with her cheeks blushed dark and her eyelashes clipping her cheeks and ask her to the dance.
“I mean—sure! Maybe Amber could go with us too?”
“You don’t think Amber is going to ask Iris? I think she’ll finally get the nerve to do it. I should probably make a bet on it,” Buffy considers, digging for her wallet and frowning slightly.
“Maybe we should ask boys?” Andi counters, suddenly. Buffy glances up at her, and the look in her eyes could kill.
“Maybe I’ll ask Natalie. She’s cute.”
Andi can’t even respond to that. So she does what she learned best from her mother; she changes the subject.
“So, Buffy. What’d you think of the movie you and Cyrus saw?” Andi tilts her head, meeting Buffy’s eyes again. She thinks of the cheesy block letters glued to the Valentine’s Day Banner: Will you be our Valentine? February 14th at 7. Two weeks away.
Buffy knows this game, but Andi watches her play along. “Best Summer of My Life 2? It was alright. Not as good as the first one. The love story kind of sucked—classic girl meets bad boy trope.”
“Wish I could have seen it,” Andi says, adjusting the straps on her backpack.
“Yeah, well. How was Iris’s?”
Andi has a momentary flashback to Amber and Iris chucking Skyzone dodgeballs at her while shrieking filled the general vicinity. Somehow, Iris had been convinced to have a birthday at a trampoline place, and somehow, Amber had been coerced into going along with it.
“Horrifying.”
Buffy laughs uncomfortably, and Andi can hear the nonexistent joke fall flat. How long has it been like this? How long has the Good Hair Crew been out of sync, and the tension between Buffy and Andi unbreakable?
Almost a year. Too long.
“Well, I’ve got Lit. See you later?” Buffy doesn’t bother waiting around for an answer to the question. She strides away, and it’s all Andi can do to avoid staring directly at the back of her head as she leaves.
“Ask Natalie,” Andi scoffs to herself, kicking at a spot on the ground. Cyrus would call her pettiness levels off the chart, but Andi doesn’t have any other way to react to Buffy. It’s not just the ever-rotating list of new girls; it’s Buffy’s obvious annoyance with Amber, it’s Buffy’s piercing eyes and sharp, true smile she hasn’t worn in so long. It’s Buffy’s acceptance of whatever is between them, while Andi flounders, trying to pretend she’s still in the waters of freshman year, when Jonah was her only problem.
When did the thoughts in her head get so complicated? Don’t answer that, she tells herself, because she already knows the answer. Andi lifts her phone from her pocket and starts absentmindedly scrolling through her old photos. There’s Cyrus and TJ sharing a milkshake with Buffy’s arms around them. There’s Amber trying on a faded leather jacket and Andi wearing a worn suit at the Thrift Store. Andi and her mom attempting gardening while Bowie laughed in their general direction. Buffy, Cyrus, and Andi holding on for dear life while ice skating two winters ago. Further back, there’s Jonah kissing Andi on the cheek, and Marty with his arm around Buffy and Andi with her arm around Jonah on some ridiculous double date. There’s a couple miscellaneous photos of Cyrus in his costume from the musical. And then, from about a year ago—
Andi’s cheeks color red. Red, like the sauce on Bex’s homemade pizza she recently learned to cook. Red, like the color of the Space Otters’ failed sophomore year uniforms. And she shuts her phone.
This is why it’s so hard to talk to Buffy. More than the color of her eyes or the defiance in her words, it’s the specific memory every time Buffy smiles at her. It’s the memory that’s controlling her.
Andi glances back at the Valentine’s Day banner, and sticks her tongue out just for good measure. She won’t let a stupid dance run by stupid Kip Warren control her too.
Then, from behind, a hand grabs her by the shoulder and starts dragging her backwards. Andi yelps, already running through the list of eight things she learned in self-defense class with Bex this summer. Quote: if you’re not a strong athlete your best hope is to hit where it hurts. Anywhere.” Andi is about ready to swing when the arm drags her into a closet and reveals the body attached to it.
“Cyrus?”
“Sorry,” he pants, as if the physical effort to kidnap her from the hallway was exhausting. “Top secret… information.”
“Oh?” Andi says, suddenly interesting. “Another cult?”
“Heck no,” Cyrus says. “I’ve got a plan for Valentine’s Day, for TJ. But I wanted to run it by you and Buffy first. And probably Jonah too.”
Andi starts to smile, leaning back against the shelves on the wall. “Spill.”
“Well… since his big game is on Valentine’s Day…” Cyrus leads in, unable to contain his grin.
“Go on.”
“I was thinking… we could all go… and hold up signs—“
“Signs for TJ! Valentine’s Day signs?!” Andi puts a hand over her mouth. “Cyrus, that’s adorable. No, it’s perfect!”
“Yeah, and I’d ask him to the dance, and we’d go afterwards, and hopefully he won his big game, and then the dance would be super romantic, and he could take the signs home and hang them up on the walls of his room, and we’d take polaroids before the dance in our suits, and you guys would be there—“
“Thought about it much?” Andi cuts in, but her lips curl upwards with excitement. The mention of the dance is the only sour bit—Andi doesn’t need that subtle reminder that she’ll never know how to not be awkward with Buffy about it. She’ll never know how to articulate what she wants, so she’ll be stuck watching TJ and Cyrus and maybe Buffy and Natalie or some other random girl get their perfect Valentine’s Days.
“Well, maybe a little. Anyways, do you like?”
Andi breaks out of her thoughts. “I don’t like, I love. When do we make the signs?”
“This weekend maybe? To be ready by that Friday?”
“You got it, Cyrus. Text Buffy, she’ll be thrilled.”
Cyrus narrows his eyes. “She will not. I’m betting she doesn’t want to help with the signs, so it might just be you and me.”
“Aw, Buffy’ll help if you ask her.” TJ and Buffy don’t fight anymore, but it suffices to say that they’re not exactly best friends.
“I’m already asking her to hold up one of the signs. And especially if she ends up with a crucial word—for example, Valentine—I can’t risk losing her support. I’ll just ask her about that and see how it goes.”
Andi smiles. “You and TJ have been dating for a year now, Cyrus.” Strange. A lot happened a year ago. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to hold up a sign. She just might not cheer for him.”
Cyrus nods, laughing a little. He types out a text on his phone to Buffy, sends it, then looks back up at Andi, looking a little panicked. “Should I tell Jonah? I need him to hold up the sign that says TJ. I don’t think he’s busy that weekend, the Otters don’t have a game—“
“Text him,” Andi reassures Cyrus. He nods and types out the text while still looking up at her.
“I need Buffy, Jonah, you, and Amber. I’ll text Amber and Jonah tonight.”
“You’re asking TJ’s sister to help with his Valentine’s Day ask?” Cyrus and Amber have been friends since middle school, and it’s still hard for Andi to wrap her head around sometimes that Cyrus is dating the brother of one of Andi’s closest friends and is additionally friends with her. It’s the type of friendship that thrives off drama, and Andi has a feeling that even if Cyrus and TJ break up (which it seems like they never will), Amber and Cyrus will be close until the ends of the earth.
“Of course. Who else was I supposed to ask? Walker?” Cyrus asks, giving Andi a look. It’s a group-acknowledged truth that Andi drove Walker from the group, even if Buffy was the last one who dated him. Walker hasn’t hung out with them for a year and a half now, except maybe a few times with Jonah. Andi misses him and his lovely creativity, but she doesn’t miss the drama he brought; Buffy was happier with Marty than with him, but then she was happier by herself than with Marty. Andi blinks slowly, realizing how this topic has made its way back to her again.
“Amber will be fine,” Andi assures, her mind not really on Cyrus or TJ. “You think she’ll finally get the guts to ask out Iris?”
Cyrus shrugs. “I hope so. Who are you going with, anyways? Not Jonah—“
“No.”
A pause.
“Jonah is my friend, yes. But I’m done being romantic with him.” Andi stops, because the words sound harsh, even if they are true. “Buffy and I are just gonna go together, like old times.”
Cyrus smiles a half smile, because old times would include him too. And all three of them know that they’ve moved on from old times. Maybe Andi the most. And yet.
“I’m gonna go find TJ now. Keep the plan under wraps, ‘kay? Friday afternoon we can pick out supplies?”
“Glitter glue!” Andi says, and she can’t stop it from coming out like a squeal. “Count me in.”
Cyrus steps out, the brightness of his phone lighting up the dim closet, and leaves Andi alone, still against the wall.
Alone.
In the closet.
Andi nearly throws her phone across the room.
————
There are three parks in downtown Shadyside: the tiny one off the elementary school, the Valley Park where legend says a swamp monster lives, and Agley Park. Agley is where coffee shop people go to be in nature; it’s also, incidentally, Walker’s favorite place in town. The Saturday morning is crisp, with light winter fog in the air, and Agley looks like the rolling fields and forests of some picturesque Scottish village. The only piece of color barring the serenity is the hunk of metal in the middle of one of the squares; that hunk of metal, though, is what has drawn Walker downtown this early on a Saturday.
“It’s kind of… underwhelming?”
Walker ignores the voice to his right and keeps reading the printed plaque beneath the statue. Installed four weeks ago, reads the monotone font, the Rest of Infinity display serves as a reminder to all viewers of the eternity of space and its never-ending mystery. The 20-foot tall sculpture contains seventeen rotating pieces and thousands of tiny gears. The reflective paints were mixed by the artist herself, and the glass portions were blown by her as well. Walker is aching to reach for a sketchbook and draw it, but he promised himself that this time he would just look. So he does.
After a while, the same voice cuts in. “So maybe I’m starting to see why Cyrus can be such a science nerd sometimes…”
Walker looks over his shoulder at Amber Kippen, who is wearing a faux leather skirt and carrying a latte. They were in the same studio class—much to Walker’s chagrin at first, who had found Amber’s eclectic, relaxed approach to art to be flighty. But when Amber’s realism came out looking like a photographic negative, and when her paints were soft pastels that fit perfectly into her nature theme, then Walker decided to give up on judging before he knew things.
And now, lo and behold, Walker and Amber were visiting an art exhibition outside of school. Together. For fun.
“I really like the colors on the back few layers,” Walker says finally, and his voice sounds gravelly from lack of use. “And the way the black pieces spiral to infinity first, with the smaller pieces following behind.”
Amber nods, and Walker notes that she’s not really listening. “Do yo know who would love this?”
“Yeah?” Walker does know, because there’s only ever one right answer. But he holds off.
“Iris.”
Amber’s eyes get dreamy when she’s talking about Iris, her crush of many a year. Walker recognizes the look because it’s the look he used to see on Andi’s face when talking about Jonah. Buffy’s face when talking about Marty. The faces of people in love with someone else, not him.
“I’m sure she would, Her photography project is so cool, maybe she could take pictures of the statue—“
“I think I need to ask her to the dance,” Amber says suddenly. “It’s now or never, right? Senior year will be too late. It’s got to be now.”
“What dance?”
Amber looks shocked, offended, horrified, embarrassed—everything on the list—that Walker is unaware of said dance. “Uh, Grant’s Valentine’s Day Dance. On account of the fact that Kip Warren and the dance team girls want prom to not be in someone’s basement this year. But Iris!”
Walker considers this, as they start to walk away from the statue and back toward Amber’s car. He listens to Amber’s list of reasons: “We texted all last night, and she ended with a heart, not me. We’ve held hands twice and been to four movies alone together. Her eyes are the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, and her bangs are so nice and her smile…”
In his head, Walker wants to make a comparison to something he’s feeling for another person. But he won’t let himself. Pretty eyes…hanging out alone together. His breath is catching, and Amber’s voice fades a little in the background. And that dance…
“Walker? Walker!” Startled out of a daydream, Walker feels Amber’s arm in front of his chest and suddenly sees the curb drop away in front of him. “Absent-minded much?”
“Call it an artist’s trait,” Walker says dizzily. He can’t stop thinking about the crush—shit, a crush—and it’s like the world is falling to pieces. It can’t be real, not over one movie and an air hockey game and a couple walks home from school. Maybe if he doesn’t think it, then it won’t be real.
“Walker.” Amber’s statement pulls him completely back to the surface, where he faces Amber’s scrutinizing gaze. “Are you going to ask anyone to the dance?”
Oh no. Walker opens his mouth to say something, and then doesn’t. They keep walking, but Amber’s eyes are staring him down with all the intensity she used to have as Grant’s resident mean girl. It’s the look she gets when she sees something she wants—or wants to know—and will do anything to get it.
“Um.”
“Um? Don’t give me that, Walker Brodsky. I spill my guts to you about Iris regularly. Now it’s your turn: who’s your crush?”
Walker blushes, reaching above his head to tug on a tree branch. “Amber, I—“
There’s a small voice in Walker’s head, and it’s trying to overcome the wave of anxiety he has about this situation. The voice is saying: Amber will understand.
Amber, who came out as lesbian when she was a freshman in high school. Amber, who goes to the LGBT alliance and activism meetings on a regular basis and cites it as her most important extracurricular, even more than dance or studio. Amber, who cries while listening to Heaven by Troye Sivan. Amber, who is staring at him right now with her Annabeth Chase-esque gray eyes and inquisitorial eyebrow raise. Amber, who has dated—
“Jonah.”
Amber doesn’t miss a beat, but Walker is already dizzy from the weight of the word.
“Jonah! Of all the people at school, you chose Mr. Heartbreak himself?”
“Um.”
Jonah is Mr. Heartbreak, isn’t he? Walker thinks of Andi, and the disaster that was the final six months of her and Jonah’s relationship. Jonah, who Andi always like more than him. Jonah Beck, who Walker first met at the art gallery, and then at the color factory, and then at canoeing. A couple months ago Walker ran into Jonah outside the skate shop, and they ended up making plans to see a movie in town they both wanted to see. Then, Walker started seeing Jonah more at school, and they were partners on a Bio assignment. The events keep spilling over themselves in his mind, and Walker feels two things: one, feelings. A crush. Like he had on Andi. The second thing is what has been washing over him for months and what kept him from telling Amber in the first place: he’s scared.
“Yeah,” Walker says, just to affirm it. “I like Jonah.” And there it is, again, the feeling in his chest of relief and anxiety all at once.
Amber nods as the rolling park ends and she clicks her key fob in the general direction of her station wagon. “Okay. Well, considering I’ve dated him, I’m probably authorized to give some advice—“
“No, Amber. He’s not even into guys; there’s no use thinking about it.” Walker slides into the passenger seat and takes out his phone from the glove box to start typing out notes about the statue.
“Walker, you never know. I mean, he’s never said that he does like boys, but he’s never said that he doesn’t—“
“That’s useless,” Walker says, keeping his eyes trained on his phone. “He’s straight, whatever. Let’s go home.”
“Don’t play this card. You’re not the first person to fall for someone who you think is straight, and you won’t be the last, not by a long shot. Guess what? Jonah hasn’t said that he’s straight. So you have a chance. Don’t waste it.” Amber’s voice gets quiet at the end, as the grips the wheel of the still-parked car. Walker thinks of Iris, and he sees the pain of pining in Amber’s eyes.
“Hey,” he says softly. “You can’t give up either.”
She shakes her head. “Yeah, whatever.” She sounds just like Walker did moments ago, but Walker doesn’t push.
“So…do you still want to give me some advice on Jonah Beck?”
Amber starts to laugh, and she reaches across to give him a shove. “Of course, Walker Brodsky. Of course.”
————
“Heads up!”
Buffy runs in anyway and snags the rebound away from TJ. She brings the ball back to the top of the key, eyebrows poised in challenge, and checks the ball to him. Then she pounds it into the floor, slipping beside TJ to get in an easy layup.
“That’s 18 to 17,” Buffy pants as TJ sets it back up.
“Careful, Driscoll, don’t get too confident,” TJ warns, crossing the ball to take a shot from just inside the three-point line. The ball circles the rim, achingly close to the net, but rolls back out and sinks to the court.
“Missed me, missed me, now you got to—“ TJ interrupts Buffy’s taunt with a shove, and Buffy laughs as she grabs the ball and shoves it back into his hands.
“I will not,” TJ says, “allow you to complete that sentence.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Buffy laughs. “Don’t worry, I have no interest.”
“Good,” TJ asserts, and his next shot is nothing but net.
Three points later and Buffy has won the game, but they don’t keep score, shockingly. One-on-one has become a daily occurrence after their respective practices, because TJ has to wait for rehearsal to end to drive Cyrus home anyways. Cyrus tried to convince him that he could just go home on the late bus, but TJ has insisted.
“Ready for next Friday?” Buffy asks, once they’re done playing and are just dribbling around.
“I hope,” TJ says, chucking the ball up with zero regard. Buffy catches it and looks over at him.
“You better be ready for Valentine’s Day. I know Cyrus is excited.”
TJ does a double take, and Buffy laughs like she’s caught him unaware. “Well, yeah I’m ready for Valentine’s Day. Or I will be. But the game—“
“Screw the game,” Buffy says, and drives the basketball into the ground. “I mean—sorry. Screw my game, not yours.”
“What’s up? How’s the team doing?” TJ holds his hands out, and she throws it at him. He’s always tried to be somewhat lenient towards Buffy in her captaining, because he knows it must be hard carrying the girls basketball program on her shoulders. When they came to Grant, Buffy had to leave behind her newly-founded middle school team for a program that’s only improvement on Jefferson’s was the fact that it was school-mandated. The past few years Buffy has been constantly trying to mend a rivalry with Kira while simultaneously attempting to take the team to the next level.
“We’re doing alright. But we’ll be playing teams in the region tournament that have AAU girls and are state-ranked. I don’t want to get eliminated in the first round, but that looks like what we’ll be getting. And I’m trying to deal with Kira, but I really can’t—“ Buffy stops.
TJ shakes his head. “You can’t be so hard on yourself, Buffy. Regionals is a hard tournament, and it’s okay if you guys—“
“No! It’s not,” Buffy shouts, and her eyes flash. TJ steps back, because this is starting to feel too much like middle school. “I have to do well, and you don’t get to talk to me like that. Why don’t you talk to me like you would a teammate—“ Buffy stops.
TJ knows some people think Buffy can be harsh, but she’s harder on herself than she is on anyone else. The thing about being friends with her is never knowing exactly how to handle it. If Cyrus were here, he would know, but Cyrus is onstage pretending to be Lysander from A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
“If you were my teammate, I would tell you to stop worrying and play the game. It goes how it goes. And I’d tell you to get along with Kira. You have to,” TJ says.
“Yeah,” Buffy breathes. “Sorry. Now pass me the ball.”
TJ obliges, and she dribbles in for a layup. He doesn’t know if he handled it right; but, he did something. Which is better than nothing. Now back to the matter at hand.
“So, Driscoll,” he calls. “What else has Cyrus said about Valentine’s Day?”
“That’s not for me to tell,” Buffy shrugs, starting to smile. “But I hope you’re taking him to the dance.”
“Uh, what kind of boyfriend do you think I am? Of course we’re going.”
“Alright, good,” Buffy says, taking a jump shot.
“And,” TJ says, excitedly, “It’ll actually be fun. We’ve got the games, which everyone is coming to, and then the dance in the gym. Cyrus is coming over after, and we’re going to bake cookies and watch a movie—“
“Okayyy, I do not need to hear about your big date,” Buffy cuts in. TJ bites the insides of his cheeks so she won’t blush, because he had been planning a sort of date with Cyrus. But Buffy doesn’t need to know that. “But you’re right, it’ll be sweet. If your idea of romance is dancing in a sweaty gym in the dark.”
TJ, who had been jogging back from the ball rack where he put away the basketball, stops to put his hands on his hips. “While you may be a cynical human being, Cyrus is a romantic—“
“So are you, TJ Kippen, don’t even try.”
“I refuse to acknowledge that statement. Buffy, you must come to the dance. It’s a part of the high school experience: the big game and then the sweaty prom.”
“Sweaty prom.”
“Sweaty prom!” TJ yells and does a spin around the gym. It’s exhilarating, he thinks, to have caring friends and a team he love to be on and a boyfriend who likes him back and has for over a year. And speaking of said boyfriend—
Cyrus enters the gym, and they both hear his hard-soled theater shoes from across the room.
“Cyrus!” Buffy shouts, and runs over to him. TJ follows. “Save me from TJ, he’s trying to force me to go to… wait for it… the dance!”
Cyrus snorts, and swings his drawstring bag over his shoulder. “TJ, are these accusations trustworthy?”
“Very,” TJ says, pulling in Cyrus under his arm.
“In that case, I support them. Buffy, we need you to go the dance! Who else will ridicule their music choices and teach Gus how to do the cha cha slide?”
“First of all, the instructions are in the song. Second of all—“ Buffy’s phone dings from inside her pocket, and she stops immediately to check it. TJ raises his eyebrows at her as she frowns at the tiny screen, then stops frowning and smiles a tiny bit. TJ runs through in his mind who it could’ve been—not Marty, who Buffy parted with freshman year. He shrugs it off—a mystery for another time.
“Got to go,” Buffy says, and rushes off to the locker room.
“Buffy,” Cyrus calls, then shakes his head. “She’s been weird lately. I’m not sure what’s up.”
TJ nods absentmindedly, then turns to Cyrus. “How was rehearsal?”
Cyrus’s eyes go wide. “Some freshman dropped a set piece on Amber and she broke her pinky!”
“WHAT.” TJ feels his voice get quiet.
“Yeah, it’s okay though, it’ll be healed in two weeks. Show isn’t for another month. She said it feels fine.”
“Fucking—sorry, fricking—freshman. Idiots, all of them,” TJ says, pulling Cyrus by the hand over to the bleachers so he can grab his bag.
“Can’t argue with that,” Cyrus shrugs, and they start to head to TJ’s car. “Oh, and Amber told me to tell you she’s staying out late tonight, so don’t wait up for her.”
“She’s going out with a broken pinky?”
“She’s got a tiny cast; she’ll be alright.” TJ squints, unconvinced. “Anyways, how was your practice?”
TJ pulls Cyrus against his side. “The usual, you know. You’re bringing the whole gang out to the games on the 14th, right?”
He nods and wraps his arm around TJ’s waist. “I can’t wait.” Then he does that Cyrus-smile: with his lips upturned to his cheeks, and his eyes intense. “It’s Valentine’s Day too, you know,” he says sweetly.
“Oh, trust me,” TJ says. He puts both his arms on Cyrus’s shoulders and pulls him into a kiss. “I know.” Cyrus blushes when he pulls away, and TJ spins him towards the car.
“Movie tonight?” Cyrus asks. TJ bites his lip, then shakes his head.
“I wish. I’ve got precalc homework which is going to take me approximately four hours,” TJ says, slipping into the drivers’ seat. “Ms. Walters is evil, I swear.”
“I’ll be sending good luck in your direction,” Cyrus says as he buckles his seatbelt. TJ drives to Cyrus’s house, and on the way they listen to Billie Eilish and discuss the day’s events, their feelings towards pineapples, and Degrassi, their show. By the time TJ pulls into Cyrus’s driveway, it’s gotten dark and Cyrus’s eyelids are slipping closed. TJ smiles over at him and bops his nose with his index finger. Cyrus blinks awake, focuses on the house, and smiles a sleepy smile. Struck, as he is daily, by how cute Cyrus is, TJ leans across the seat and kisses him. Cyrus takes TJ’s hand, squeezes it, and tumbles out the door with his bags.
“See you tomorrow, underdog!” Cyrus turns to wave back at him, and TJ can still see the soft smile on his face.
As he drives away, TJ stops at the intersection that breaks off back to the Kippen house, and he takes a left instead of a right. He thinks about Cyrus’s excitement over Valentine’s Day and the dance as he pulls into the Target parking lot. Cyrus Goodman, he thinks, his own smile filling his features, you deserve the world.