Page 35 of Don’t Let Me Go
The sudden appearance of Jackson’s ex-girlfriend was admittedly a surprise. What isn’t surprising is the speed with which
Duy has become obsessed with her.
In the hour since the two of them met, Duy hasn’t stop bombarding her with compliments on everything from her hair (“fabulous”)
to her skin (“radiant”) to her nails (“fierce”). Micaela, in return, has declared Duy her new favorite person. Normally I’d
find such a mutual lovefest nauseating, but at least it’s helping to distract them from the fact that Jackson and I have barely
said two words since leaving his aunt’s house.
“So, Micaela, how long are you in Orlando?” Duy asks as the four of us stroll the path around Lake Eola that leads to the
amphitheater. “And if you say anything less than a week, I will literally die.”
“Alas, I’m only in town for the day,” Micaela says with a sigh as she loops her arm through Jackson’s and smiles. “I have
to head back to Tally tonight.”
“Ugh. I’m dead ,” Duy groans. “You would look stunning in the backless periwinkle gown I’ve been designing. Tell me you’re planning to visit
Orlando again soon. I would love to get some shots of you in the gown for my portfolio.”
“Your portfolio?”
“Duy’s a designer,” Jackson explains, finally breaking his long and awkward silence. “They’re putting together a portfolio
of their work so that they can apply to fashion programs.”
“Amazing!” Micaela’s enthusiasm is undeniably genuine. As is her sweetness, vivacious spirit, and generous heart.
Even so, I wish she’d fall into the lake.
I know I said I was going to keep my romantic feelings for Jackson in check— and I am —but I can’t help feeling jealous of Micaela. Not to mention betrayed by Jackson. In all our discussions, he never once mentioned
that he was still in touch with his ex. Now it turns out that not only has he been texting her on the regular, he’s also been
keeping our friendship and my entire existence a secret.
I’ve tried to convince myself that he must have some perfectly reasonable excuse for not telling Micaela about me. But the
only explanation that makes sense is the simplest one.
He’s embarrassed.
Yes, he likes me. Yes, he wants to be my friend. But he’s also Jackson Haines, star athlete and former dude-bro. He can’t
let his friends back home know that he’s spending all his free time with some queer little gay boy.
Then again, Jackson was strangely insistent that we spend the day together even after I gave him multiple opportunities to
bail on our plans. Would he do that if he was ashamed of me?
I don’t know.
I don’t know anything except for the supremely frustrating fact that every time our friendship takes two steps forward, we
immediately take three steps back. It’s like the universe is deliberately fucking with us.
“Speaking of my portfolio,” Duy says as they pull out their phone. “I have to show you the shots I took of Riley and Jackson.
They are fire .”
Jackson stops in his tracks, and the color drains from his face. At the sight of his distress, my frustration with him instantly evaporates, and I’m left with an almost instinctive desire to protect him from any potential humiliation—like having to explain incredibly homoerotic photos to his ex.
“You got Jackson to model for you?” Micaela exclaims, her eyes going wide with excitement. “Oh my gosh, you have to show me!”
“We should actually get to the amphitheater,” I say. “Audrey and Tala are waiting.”
But Duy lets out a dismissive snort. “It’ll just take two seconds. Besides, the concert doesn’t start for, like, half an hour.
Audrey needs to chill.”
Jackson looks at me helplessly, but there’s nothing I can do. Duy is already shoving their phone in Micaela’s face, showing
her the photo of me in Jackson’s arms, our lips about to kiss.
“Is this the sexiest thing ever or what?” Duy boasts.
Micaela’s smile falters. If Duy notices her reaction, they don’t let on. Instead, they launch into an enthusiastic recap of
the modeling session, pointing out specific details about the authenticity of the Regency design. Micaela nods and makes appreciative
comments as the smile gradually returns to her face.
“So hot, right?” Duy asks, managing to be completely oblivious to the awkwardness they’re inflicting.
“Yeah, so hot,” Micaela echoes. She then turns to Jackson and adds, “I had no idea you had such an exciting life here in Orlando.”
“We were just fooling around,” Jackson mumbles, waving off the compliment that also sounds like an accusation. “It’s not a
big deal.”
I know he’s talking about the photos, but I can’t help feeling like he’s also talking about us. This morning when he came
to my house, I thought I finally had confirmation that, if nothing else, our friendship was solid. That it was important to
both of us. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe Jackson has just been fooling around with me until something or someone better comes
along.
“We should find Audrey and Tala,” I say, heading off to the amphitheater before anyone can see the hurt on my face.
I don’t look back to see if anyone follows. In an effort to get control of my emotions, I keep my head down and my eyes glued
to the sidewalk in front of me. Which is how I end up walking straight into someone’s back.
“Ow! Watch it!”
“Sorry,” I mumble without looking up. I try to go around the person, but a familiar voice stops me in my tracks.
“Riley?”
I glance up and can barely believe my eyes. Clearly, the universe isn’t done messing with my life because standing right in
front of me is Alex fucking Vargas.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, not even trying to hide the horror in my voice.
“I swear I’m not stalking you,” Alex protests, throwing his hands up in a display of surrender.
Despite my shock, I can’t help noticing how much taller he seems to have gotten. Do people keep growing after high school
or did I just remember him as being short because his shitty behavior made me think of him as a small, insecure person? He’s
also let his black hair grow out into a thick, luxurious mane, which is actually quite flattering compared to the macho buzz
cut he always insisted on having because he thought it made him look straight.
“I was just on my way to the amphitheater,” Alex explains. “This band I like is giving a concert.”
“ You like the Glorious Peccadilloes?” Jesus Christ, is everyone in Florida obsessed with this band? I’d never even heard of them
until this morning, and now they’re everywhere .
“Yeah, they’re not normally my thing,” Alex confesses with a self-conscious chuckle. “But last year, my roommate got me into them. I’m at the University of Miami, which is where the band’s originally from, so everyone down there is legally obligated to worship them.”
“Cool,” I reply. Because what else are you supposed to say to someone who once broke your heart and who now wants to swap
music trivia?
The answer to that is nothing. But before I can think of a way to extricate myself from this clusterfuck of a conversation,
Duy, Jackson, and Micaela are on top of us. Which means I now have the utter delight of introducing my friends to my least
favorite person on the planet.
“Everyone, this is Alex,” I tell the group, straining to keep my tone civil. “He used to go to my school.”
I’m surprised by the warm greeting Duy gives Alex until I remember that Duy started at Olympus the year after the whole Alex
debacle. Of course Duy’s heard the story, but that was years ago. I don’t think they’re making the connection that the Alex
standing in front of us is the same guy that Audrey vowed eternal vengeance against.
Jackson, though, knows exactly who Alex is. And from the way he clenches his jaw and greets him with a tight-lipped “Hey,”
it’s clear that he’s about as thrilled to be having this chance encounter as I am.
“You went to school with Riley?” Micaela asks, oblivious to both the death glare that Jackson is aiming in Alex’s direction
and how uncomfortable that glare is making Alex.
“Uh, yeah.”
Micaela’s face breaks into a mischievous smile. “Were you guys friends or were you...”
Alex turns bright red and stares at me like a deer in headlights.
“We were just friends,” I lie. I might not be Alex’s biggest fan, but I’m also not about to out him to a total stranger.
Micaela nods, but from the knowing smirk she throws my way, I can tell she doesn’t believe me. In fact, it’s pretty clear that Micaela is determined to play queer matchmaker because she turns back to Alex and asks, “Are you here for the concert? Because if you are, you should totally join us.”
Now it’s my turn to look at Jackson for help. I can just about survive spending the day with his ex, but the idea of also spending it with mine is enough to send me into a full-blown panic attack.
Thankfully, Alex appears equally uncomfortable with Micaela’s invitation.
“Oh, thanks, that’s really nice but?.?.?.?I think I’m just going to do my own thing. You guys have fun, though. Enjoy the
concert.”
Alex gives me a timid wave and starts to back away. For a second, I’m relieved. But before he turns to go, his eyes catch
mine, and something about the way he looks at me—the pitiful mixture of longing and regret—fills me with something I never
thought I’d feel for the boy who ruined my first year of high school: sympathy.
Part of me knows that I should let go of my anger and accept Alex’s apology. Or at the very least, hear him out. But another
part of me finds it hard to believe that people like him are really capable of change.
Then again, if I’m willing to accept that Jackson isn’t the same person who allowed Devon Sanderson to be bullied so badly
that he ended up in a hospital, don’t I owe Alex the chance to prove that he’s not the same person who broke my heart?
Besides, if my only options for today are hanging out with Alex or watching Jackson get cozy with his ex, there really isn’t
a choice, is there?
“Alex, wait up!” I shout.
He stops, and I see his shoulders tense as he turns back to me. He must think I’m about to tell him off or, worse, out him in public, so I force myself to smile. Then, ignoring the look of confusion on Jackson’s face, I take a few quick steps toward Alex to close the distance between us.
“Do you want to go somewhere and talk?” I ask. “Just the two of us?”
The effect of my words is immediate. Alex’s entire body relaxes, and a grateful smile spreads across his lips.
“Really?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “It’s about time, don’t you think?”