Page 21 of Don’t Let Me Go
Duy leans over the table and whispers conspiratorially, “Caleb Holzinger. The boy I’ve been texting for two weeks . He goes to a fancy private school in Winter Park but he’s super-down-to-earth. I want to suck off his face and live in his
biceps.”
Jackson and I steal a quick glance at Caleb, whose brooding eyes, strong jaw, and languorous posture remind me of a figure
in a Pre-Raphaelite painting. If guys in Pre-Raphaelite paintings wore crop tops and camo pants.
“He’s cute,” Jackson observes with a nod of approval.
The comment surprises me. I didn’t think straight boys noticed how other guys looked. Or if they did, I didn’t think their
bro-code permitted them to admit it in public.
More to the point, I can’t help wondering who else Jackson might think is cute.
“Yes, Caleb is cute,” Tala agrees. “And based on some light Instagram stalking that Duy and I have been doing, we know that Caleb is also
witty, smart, socially conscious, and the first ever trans president of his school’s GSA. But for some reason Duy’s not interested
in asking him out.”
“I never said I wasn’t interested ,” Duy huffs. “I just said I was keeping my options open. You know, in case I meet Michael B. Jordan or Manny Jacinto.”
Tala gives Duy a pitying look and gently squeezes their hand. “You know that’s literally never going to happen?”
“Why don’t you go say hello?” Jackson suggests. “I mean, if you’ve been texting, why not?”
Duy shrugs with feigned indifference, but I can tell it’s just a cover for their nerves. The more Duy likes a boy, the more self-conscious they get. And given the sudden dip in Duy’s otherwise insanely high levels of confidence, they must be into Caleb a lot.
“You all need to stop being so thirsty,” Duy retorts. “Just because Caleb and I have been texting every day doesn’t mean he
likes me likes me.”
These words hit a little too close to home, and I can feel my cheeks burn. It takes all my strength not to look at Jackson.
“Oh my gosh, are you serious?” Tala exclaims. “Until you made me read your entire text history with Caleb, I never knew the
eggplant emoji could be used like that. Trust me, he likes you.”
“But what if I ask him out and he says no?” Duy groans. “Or what if he says yes, and it ends up being a total disaster, and
I die of mortification after being rejected by literally the hottest boy on the whole entire planet? No offense, Jackson.”
“All great points,” Tala concedes. “I’m going to counter with what if Caleb says yes and you have a great time and you get
to make out with that sexy face for the rest of the year?”
Duy glances over at Caleb, whose face in the bar’s soft lighting does look particularly kissable.
“Ugh, fine ,” Duy relents. “I’ll talk to him. But you’re coming with me.”
“Me? Why?” Tala asks.
“Because I need to make it look like we’re going to the ladies’ room to fix our makeup and I just happened to run into him.”
“Or you could just walk up to him and say hello.”
“Oh my God, T., you are so naive,” Duy scoffs. “No wonder you didn’t notice you were dating Audrey for six months.”
Before Tala can protest, Duy grabs her by the arm and pulls her up from the booth.
“Wow,” Jackson exclaims as he watches the two of them disappear into the crowd. “Duy does not take no for an answer, do they?”
“Not really.” I’m still feeling a little awkward after Duy’s reminder that texting does not necessarily equal romance, but
I’m trying not to show it. “It’s kind of the best thing about them. Also maybe the worst.”
“Tomorrow should be fun, then.”
“Oh, you have no idea what you’re in for.”
Jackson grins and begins counting off on his fingers. “Carnivals, roller discos, drag-queen karaoke, modeling—do you and your
friends ever do anything, I don’t know, normal?”
“Normal?”
“Yeah. Do you ever just chill at home and watch a game?”
“Oh, I see the confusion. I think the word you’re looking for is boring .”
Jackson laughs one of his big, full-body laughs. And despite my confusion about my ever-increasing attraction to him, I can’t
help laughing back.
“Well, bless my soul,” a drag queen drawls in a thick Southern accent as she sashays past our table patting her enormous red
beehive wig. “Aren’t you two the cutest little couple I ever did see.”
My shoulders stiffen. If there’s one thing guaranteed to make a straight boy freak out in a gay bar, it’s having his sexuality
questioned. And even though that was absolutely my original intention in bringing Jackson here, I don’t think I could bear
to see that happen now. In fact, I’m almost certain it would break my heart.
Jackson, though, only laughs. “Why do people keep thinking we’re a couple?”
“I have no idea!” I force myself to laugh back.
“For real, that’s the third time someone has thought we were dating.”
“It is?” I remember the fortune teller at the carnival but—
“My aunt said the same thing last night,” Jackson clarifies.
Oh. Huh. That’s?.?.?.?interesting. “Why did your aunt think we were dating?” I ask, trying not to sound like swarms of butterflies
are flapping inside my chest.
“Because I was texting you so much. She thought you were a girl.”
“Oh.”
“It’s crazy this keeps happening, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, turning away so he can’t see my face. “Crazy.”