Page 77 of The Love Interest

“Let’s ignore all that,” he says. “From now on, okay? Let’s ignore the fact that I’m about to die and enjoy ourselves.”

“I’m here for you, Dyl. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Be careful with your words, Caden.” He’s smirking. “There is a lot of stuff I haven’t tried yet, and I’d rather not die a virgin.”

I slam the door. “Please stop with the jokes. It feels like you’re messing with me, and I can’t handle that. So please, Dyl, listen to me and stop.”

What I don’t say is how much I want him, or how much I want to believe him. I wish I could grab his hand and take him back to my room. Once there, I’d take his clothes off and kiss him and we’d just keep going until we were under the sheets, sweaty and exhausted. But I can’t. I don’t have it in me to trust him that much.

“I’m saying what I feel, Caden. Believe me, it’s not scripted. Judy pretty much gave up on me. She’s already planning for the next Bad. So I have the luxury of being able to speak my mind. But I understand that you don’t, so I’ll stop.”

I want to move past this, to forget how mistrustful I am, even if it’s just for a second, so I pick his iPod up from the space between us and press Play.

I nestle against the seat.

He drives.

The stars blur above us.

After some time, he parks the car and I open my eyes. In front of us is a carnival, a stretch of glowing yellow and pink lights. A massive Ferris wheel spins in the background. The air smells like burning toffee, mud, and mowed grass.

I glare at him. “We’re inpublic, Dyl.”

“So?”

“Do you think I’m an idiot? What if Juliet is here and sees us together? What if anyone from school sees us? They’ll think it’s a date. If this is some sort of tactic to try to claw your way back I—”

He slaps his forehead. “I didn’t think, man, honestly. It looked fun.”

“Take me home, Dyl.”

“What?”

“I… I can’t do this. I want to go home.”

I remember what I said to Trevor, about taking the pain from others, about how it’s braver to take some pain from them, to bear it, than it is to leave them suffering alone. Dyl’s shoulders are slightly hunched and he keeps blinking, like he hopes I won’t notice what he’s doing.

Preventing himself from crying.

Because I’m not the only one who feels things that need to be hidden. He’s the person I’m the most like my real self with, but I still downplay some things, like my feelings for him, when we’re together. Now I know that he’s doing something similar: downplaying how he feels about tomorrow.

I open the car door and step outside. “Screw it.” I slam the door shut. My shoes sink into the damp ground. “Let’s go. I don’t care if they see us.”

“You sure?”

I nod, and he climbs out and locks the door behind him. We start walking through the carnival.

“Don’t stand so close,” I say as I approach a stall. I run my fingers through the fur of a teddy bear that’s on display. “I don’t care if they see us together, but I’m not actively suicidal.”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “As you command, Nice guy.”

I hand over a fifty-dollar bill to a bubbly young woman and she hands me six juggling balls and two twenties.

“Get a ball into the container and you win a prize,” she says. “Get more in and you get better prizes! Good luck!”

I hand three of the balls to Dyl, then take aim and throw. The ball hits the middle of the container and bounces out.Damn it!

“Rookie,” says Dyl. He takes aim. His eyes narrow in the way they always do when he cares about something, and he holds the ball beside his head, his biceps flexed. Even through the jacket it looks fantastic. I notice I’m staring at his arm, and blood rushes to my cheeks. I kick the dirty ground as he throws. He gets the ball in.