EDITORS' PICK (November 2019) || COMPLETE
Nick Buckingham is three things if nothing else: salty, antisocial, and the quintessential gay theatre nerd. He's content to drift through the rest of senior year throwing himself into productions to avoid h...
Thats four on my list. I'm talking about the one I stated earlier.
I'm an idiot. You'll have to remind me ;))))))))))
Goal: Break the secret admirer.
I just want to send more winky faces, he says.
Do so at your own risk.
What are you going to do? More winky faces. "Break me"?
I feel like you'd like that too much.
Oh, definitely. I YEARN to have you "break me".
I feel better already. Mostly better, at least.
Maybe if you and your hot air balloon come find me, we'll see. I feel so daring. Too daring, really, but that's fine. That's fine, that's fine. I'm not freaking out or breaking down.
You wouldn't be able to resist trying to break me. I put the "hot" in hot air balloon.
I'll be judge of that.
I think you mean you'll be the witness.
This. This is what I've wanted. For longer than I'd like to admit.
I end up swaddled in blankets in my bed again, texting Secret Guy. Dad shoveled before he left so he and Mom could get out of their elitist garage, so that's one less thing on my plate.
I'm legit bummed that we didn't get to meet today, I tell him. I have a feeling we've already met, though, but I don't know from where, exactly. Still, it's comforting. It's not like I talk to a lot of people in my life - and I like pretty much everyone that I do talk to. Even Edward. (Most of the time. Usually, he's not bad.)
Same, he says, but at least I get more time to make your surprise specific. Then, he adds, I'm really sorry about today. About everything.
My breath hitches, picturing the pained look on Josiah's face as I left the kitten room today.
No. He's not Secret Guy.
Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope.
"Nick," calls Ben from the living room, "wanna come watch TV with me?"
I glance down at my phone screen. Do I really need to be spending this much time with a guy who won't even tell me his name? (I mean, there's an understood "yet" there, but still.)
Picking up my whole, dusty comforter, I head off to the living room.
Living with Ben's documentary obsession has actually been pretty good for me, I think. I mean, I can tell David Attenborough by just his voice now, so that's great.
Attenborough is talking about penguins and seals, and I'm waiting for that signature death scene that always happens before they move onto something "happier". I'm not really watching - I'm on my phone, picking at a bag of chips Ben brought out.
"You know what makes me mad?" asks Ben, rocking back and forth on his heels as he squats in front of the television.
I look up. "What?"
"Mr. Popper's Penguins."
"And why's that?" Three chips, down the hatch.
He doesn't even turn. "I don't know. 'Just does."
"Sound reasoning."
"Yup." He goes back to watching seals circle a penguin.
Hey, Secret Guy says, tomorrow morning, can I meet you at your locker?
Okay, I say immediately. Sounds good. Sounds great.
You're adorable.
I know.
But, yeah, he says. I will meetest thou at thy locker.
With ice cream.
With ice cream. And maybe more.
Like ....? I'm smiling. Hard.
IMAGINARY RULES ALARM! IMAGINARY RULES ALARM!
It's hard not to chuckle out loud. Screw your imaginary rules.
I have to SURPRISE you, Nikolai.
"nikolai"
"NIKOLAIIII"
That's right, I say. Scream my name.
I feel. . . Broken, he says.
+10000000 xp to Nikolai. Goal accomplished.
He says, You're welcome.
No, I retort, I'm Nikolai.
Tomorrow can't come soon enough. Seriously, I will take a hair dryer to the streets to prevent another snow day. Because, if there's another snow day tomorrow, I'll have to wait till Monday to finally meet Secret Guy.
And I can't wait anymore.
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