Page 37 of Don’t Let Me Go

“How’s college?” I ask Alex, wondering how much small talk two people can make before one of them goes insane.

The park overlooking the amphitheater is busier than usual. Some people are hurrying to score seats on the extremely limited

benches while others are laying out picnic blankets on the surrounding lawn, but Alex and I have managed to find a somewhat

secluded spot behind a cluster of palm trees where we can talk in private. Not that we’ve said much in the past ten minutes

that’s worth overhearing.

“College is good,” he answers, still glancing at me sheepishly as if he half expects me to bolt at any second. “ Very different from high school. Everyone’s a lot more chill. You don’t have to worry about people always being in your business.”

Translation: It’s easier for him to hook up with guys on the down-low.

Despite wanting to bury the hatchet with Alex, I’m finding it difficult to let go of my resentment. And my cynicism. Mainly

because I’m still waiting for my apology.

Alex must pick up on my impatience. He blushes nervously and, in a timid whisper, adds, “I’ve come out to a few people.”

“Oh.”

Over the years, when I’ve wanted to indulge in a bout of self-pity, I’ve occasionally allowed myself to stalk Alex on social media.

Nothing in his carefully curated profiles or in any of his posts has ever indicated that he is anything other than 100 percent straight (aside from the notable absence of a girlfriend).

So the news that he’s started to come out is a genuine surprise.

“I told my roommate last year,” he continues. “And a couple of friends. I even told one of my professors.”

“That’s great,” I say, somewhat taken aback to discover I mean it.

Alex nods, smiling bashfully. But a second later, his face clouds over. “I still haven’t told my parents. Or my brothers.

Nobody here in Orlando knows.”

“That’s okay,” I assure him, my right hand instinctively reaching out to clasp his shoulder. Regardless of our complicated

history, I can’t help being proud of him. He’s taken a huge first step. A step I’ve always hoped he’d take but never imagined

he would. Which means whatever our beef in the past, in this moment, I want to support him.

“You’ll tell your family when you’re ready,” I add. “You don’t have to come out on anyone’s schedule but your own.”

Alex doesn’t say anything. He just looks at my hand, then at me. When we were together, he had an absolute no-touching-in-public

rule, so I half expect him to pull away in a panic. Instead, he smiles, his eyes filled with gratitude.

“Thanks. I appreciate you saying that. Especially after how I treated you.”

“Yeah,” I say, pulling back my hand. “Not exactly great memories.”

Alex hangs his head. “I really am sorry. I was such an asshole in high school. And I want you to know that if I could go back

in time, I would do everything differently. But I can’t. All I can do is tell you how fucking sorry I am. For everything . I’m sorry I forced you to keep our relationship secret. I’m sorry I didn’t stick up for you when the guys on the football

team harassed you. I’m sorry I didn’t visit you in the hospital after I made you anorexic.”

“Okay, hang on there, you didn’t make me anorexic,” I correct him. “I did that to myself. And there were a lot of factors.”

“Yeah, and one of those factors was me ,” he insists. “I was a horrible boyfriend. I used you and threw you away. And I hate that I did that, because I really liked

you, Riley. I liked you so much . But I was so messed up and so scared that I honestly would’ve rather died than let anyone find out about me.

“That’s not an excuse,” he hastens to add. “I just need you to know that I’m really trying not to be that person anymore.

I never want to hurt anyone the way I hurt you. Going forward, I want to be a better person. Even if you never forgive me.

Even if I never forgive myself. I want to try.”

In all the fantasies that I used to have about Alex and me getting back together, I always dreamed he’d make a speech like

this. Now here he is, in the flesh, saying everything I’ve ever wanted him to say, and it’s somehow better than the fantasy.

Maybe that’s because in the fantasy, Alex’s apology was almost irrelevant. It was just a task on a checklist, a penance I

needed him to perform so that I could take him back without looking like a total doormat. It had nothing to do with his own

personal growth and everything to do with me getting what I wanted—that is, an openly out boyfriend.

The Alex standing in front of me right now, though, isn’t apologizing so I can finally claim the prize that I’ve decided I

deserve. He’s apologizing because he’s trying to become a better person . Because he doesn’t want to make the same mistakes or hurt anyone else, including himself.

“Wow,” I say. “You really have changed.”

“I’m trying to.”

“Well, keep it up,” I joke, hoping to lighten the tension after Alex’s rather intense confession. “This new-and-improved version of you? He seems like a good guy.”

“For real?” he asks.

“Yeah. And for the record, I do forgive you.”

Alex’s hazel eyes go wide. “You do?”

“Yeah,” I say, a little surprised myself at how easily I’m able to say the words. “We’re good.”

The relief on Alex’s face is so palpable, it brings a lump to my throat. Or maybe that’s just my own relief as my body is

finally able to let go of three years of anger, resentment, and recrimination.

“I want you to be happy,” I tell him. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

Overcome with emotion, Alex pulls me into a hug. It’s jarring at first to feel his arms around me after all these years. At

the same time, though, my body still recognizes and responds to his. The warmth of his skin, the tautness of his muscles,

the musky scent of his cologne—it’s all familiar. Like an old sweater you find in the back of your closet that still fits.

It’s not like hugging Jackson. Nothing is like hugging Jackson. Even so, it feels good to be held. Alex was the first, last,

and only boy I’ve ever hooked up with. Since then, it’s been one long self-inflicted dry spell. If Jackson hadn’t come along,

I probably wouldn’t have realized how starved I was for this kind of affection.

It’s my own fault. After Alex, I didn’t want to get hurt again. I’ve been telling myself that I can live without a boyfriend,

without sex, without love. But I was wrong. I want all those things.

“Fuck, sorry!” Alex says, pulling away as his face turns bright red. At first, I think he’s referring to the hug. Then I see

him cover his groin, and I realize that the lump I’d felt pressing against my thigh a second ago wasn’t his phone.

Guess I’m not the only one starved for affection.

“It’s okay,” I tell him, unable to stop myself from laughing at the absurdity of the situation. “I totally take it as a compliment.”

Alex stares at the ground in mortification. But I can still see the slight hint of a smile when he says, “I guess it’s true

what they say. Old habits die hard.”

“Really hard, apparently.”

This time we both laugh. It feels surprisingly good to share a joke with Alex. It’s a new experience for us. There wasn’t

much laughter when we were together.

“Since we’re on the topic,” he says, a coy glint twinkling in his eyes, “are you seeing anyone?”

I’m not about to delve into the whole Jackson situation with Alex. Mainly because I still don’t understand what exactly our

situation is. So I shake my head.

“No, I’m not seeing anyone.”

“What about that guy you introduced me to? Jackson? I felt like I was getting definite angry-boyfriend vibes from him.”

“Jackson’s just protective,” I explain, trying to convince Alex as much as myself. “There’s nothing between us. We’re just

friends.”

Alex looks skeptical. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Trust me, I am totally and pitifully single.”

Alex nods, then shoots me a meaningful look. “Me too.”

In the pregnant silence that follows, I can tell where this conversation is headed even before Alex opens his mouth.

“I don’t suppose you’d want to skip the concert and maybe go back to my place?” he asks, taking a step closer and lowering

his voice. “My parents are out of town on a cruise. That’s why I’m here. I’m house-sitting while they’re in the Caribbean.

We’d have the place to ourselves.”

I know what he’s asking. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted.

After weeks of being emotionally jerked around by my feelings for Jackson, I can admit that the chance to hook up with a cute boy who is unambiguously into me is doing wonders for my self-esteem (and my libido).

Also, the more I think about it, there is a certain poetic justice in having one last fling with the guy who broke my heart.

In terms of closing this chapter of my life, it’d be incredibly satisfying to send Alex off into the sunset with one last romantic hurrah.

Only I don’t want Alex. I want Jackson.

I know that’s completely delusional and totally self-sabotaging. I know that right now, somewhere in this park, he’s probably

getting back together with his ex. I know I’m setting myself up for nothing but heartache and disappointment. But I don’t

care. Because regardless of how he feels about me, I know how I feel about him. And it’s absurd to pretend otherwise.

Screw the vow I made this morning. I need to stop being a coward and tell Jackson how much he means to me. Yes, it might ruin

our friendship. But maybe—just maybe—it’ll lead to something more. Either way, it’s time to find out.

“So?.?.?.?what do you think?” Alex asks, his grin faltering in my silence.

“I think, as much as it might be fun to hook up for old times’ sake, it’s probably not the healthiest idea.”

“Oh,” he says, unable to hide his disappointment.

“It might make things complicated. And given our history, you and I should probably avoid any more complications. Especially

if we want to be friends.”

Alex looks surprised. “Friends?”

“Yeah. I know you have your friends at U of M, but it never hurts to have more. Also, I know you’re still coming to terms with your sexuality.

There are things you’re figuring out, so if you ever need to talk—about anything—I’m here for you.

Because I meant what I said earlier. I want you to be happy.

I want us both to be happy. And right now, I think our best shot at making that happen is for us to be friends. ”

Alex considers for a second and then nods. “I’d like that.”

This time, I’m the one to pull Alex into a hug. It’s far less intense than our previous one, but still, I make sure to keep

our pelvises apart to avoid any confusion.

Despite these precautions, though, when I hear a nearby voice aggressively and pointedly clearing its throat, I feel like

I’ve been caught red-handed in an illicit tryst. I pull away from Alex and see that the voice belongs to Jackson. He’s standing

a few feet away, staring at me with an intense but inscrutable expression.

“Can we talk?” he asks somewhat abruptly.

He doesn’t acknowledge Alex, who looks at Jackson, then me, then breaks into a sardonic smirk. “Just friends, huh?”

Before I can answer, Alex backs away and heads toward the amphitheater, making a tactical and tactful retreat.

Alone with Jackson, I feel my body start to panic. I’m not sure how much he saw or overheard before announcing his presence,

but I’m low-key freaking out that he might’ve misconstrued my moment of reconciliation with Alex as something romantic.

“Sorry,” Jackson says, his eyes and tone softening as soon as Alex is out of sight. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t,” I assure him. “Alex and I were just deciding that going forward, we would try to be friends. Just friends.”

Jackson’s face relaxes. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” He nods excitedly, barely able to conceal his smile. “That’s?.?.?.?good.”

It is? I mean, it is . But why does Jackson look so relieved? Is it because he’s happy that Alex and I are friends again? Or because he’s happy

that Alex and I aren’t more than friends?

“Where’s Micaela?” I ask as my heart begins to pound quicker.

For some reason, the question makes him blush. “Micaela went back to Tallahassee.”

“What? Really?” I ask, a little too eagerly. My mind is racing as I consider what this might mean, but I don’t want to get

ahead of myself. “Did something happen?”

Chewing on his lip, Jackson lets out a nervous chuckle. “Sort of. We were talking about our relationship and about all the

reasons why she and I could never get back together.”

I’m not sure what a heart attack feels like, but I’m pretty certain I’m about to have one. But a good heart attack? Is that

a thing?

“You were?” I ask.

Jackson nods. “She said she could never date a guy who’d broken her heart. And I told her...” He swallows nervously. “I

told her that I liked someone else.”

All the oxygen leaves my lungs. “You did?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, timidly staring down at the grass.

“Who?” I’m almost too afraid to ask. If his answer isn’t the answer I’m hoping for, I think it might honestly kill me.

“You.”

With that little word, he looks up into my eyes and smiles. He looks incredibly proud but also slightly terrified. Like he’s

scaled Mount Everest and just now realized what a long drop it would be to the bottom.

“Me?” I can scarcely believe my ears. Or any of my other senses, for that matter. What’s happening now is the kind of thing

that only happens in movies or dreams. But if this is a dream, I don’t ever want to wake up.

“Yeah. You.” Jackson nods. “Is that?.?.?.?okay?”

I’m smiling so hard, I think my cheeks might crack. “Very okay. Very, very okay.”

The anxiousness vanishes from Jackson’s eyes as a triumphant grin spreads from one ear to the other. He takes a step forward

and gently cups my face in his hands. “Can I kiss you?”

“Are you joking?” I almost shout. “Fuck, yes , kiss me!”

We laugh, both of us drunk with joy. Then without caring if anyone might be watching, Jackson leans forward and presses his

lips to mine. And we kiss like it’s what we were born to do.