Page 34

Jell-O Can Never Be Crème Br?lée

“Ricky! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to piss you off, please! I should’ve told you!”

I really should’ve worked out this week more because running to catch up to Ricky and his muscular runner’s legs when I was already breathless from the gag reveal of the century is really taking the wind out of my lungs!

The second Ricky reaches the end of a long row of stone buildings and into a more open clearing, he stops and lets out a breath.

I nearly keel over, hunching over on my knees, panting.

Then, in a twist I didn’t see coming, he starts to laugh. It comes deep from the belly, like he’s exorcising a demon, and once he’s done, he’s wiping tears from his cheeks.

“Did I miss something?”

He closes his eyes, clears his throat, and inhales. “I smell warm Nutella. Where is that coming from?” I follow his nose to a nearby pasticceria. “Do you mind if we get whatever that is, then maybe go to that museum you told me about and not talk about what we just saw?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Thanks, Fielder.” He opens his eyes, trying to hide the pain, but I know better.

“Can I ask one question?”

“One question.”

“What do you want or need me to do right now?”

He smiles, his face softening. “This. And keep what we saw to yourself. I’m going to see if Cam tells me the truth himself. Give him a chance to be honest.”

My face crinkles, brows furrow. “Then what?”

He narrows his eyes. “You don’t approve.”

“I—I don’t have an opinion.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute.” He smirks.

“You would give him a second chance?” I ask, wondering where my second chance was. Why didn’t Ricky give me time before up and leaving?

“I don’t know.” He looks deep into my eyes, then down at the cobblestone streets. “But I know I want to spend today with you. Is that okay?”

For now.

Good lord, the Museo della Carta is the most boring thing I’ve ever done.

Not to sound like that girl , because old machines are cool and Ricky was a kid in a candy shop reading about all the techniques of making paper, and ancient trade routes from China, but I found myself wishing to be impaled on the rusty equipment.

Now we’re back at the villa and he’s somewhere with Cam pretending that he didn’t just see him making out with a Matty look-alike in an alley by the beach! How tawdry and cheap! Ricky deserves better.

To be a fly on the wall.

What did I think was going to happen? That Topher and Sienna’s wedding was the setting of some rom-com where I would win back the heart of the love of my life and send his twink boyfriend packing after a cute little group number where everyone in the bridal party including Nonna breaks out into song?

Sounds nice! Yet the closer I’ve gotten to Ricky over the last two days, the more my heart aches remembering the hurt he left behind. The more I want to kiss him under the stars, the more closure and insight I need about how and why we ended in the first place. Far too complicated.

I flop on my bed and press my eyes closed.

A good nap can cure all, including the twisty weirdness knotting up inside me.

Except I can’t fall asleep.

So I try to edit the content I shot yesterday and today.

Except I can’t focus.

And because my reptile brain is utterly broken and my coping mechanism for thinking too much over the last year has been sex, I’m suddenly picturing Ricky shirtless in teeny-tiny speedos at the pool, hard as a rock.

Matty isn’t around.

The Coven is spending the day shopping and eating their way through Positano.

The villa was quiet when Ricky and I got back, and it’s been days since I’ve gotten off, so there’s a decent shot I can get off without worrying.

I sink deep into the bed, and the second I get to work, the door to my suite opens and I hear Matty’s voice call out for me.

With superhuman strength, I pull a stop, drop, and roll and heave my naked body off my bed, crashing to the cold tile floor with a thud.

Matty scream-laughs from the belly as he catches the tail end (see what I did there?) of the show. “Sorry, Field!” His laughter grows into howls.

I bonk my forehead against the floor, thanking the gods I didn’t break my dick before hoisting myself up and jumping out of my skin when I see Matty standing next to Nic Avello Jr., who stares me up and down with a smirk on his face.

“Ay, che vista! Bellissimo!” Nic says as Matty throws a pillow at me to cover up.

“I thought you left!” I shriek.

“Sorry, bro,” Matty says through laughter. “I saw my mom coming down the stairs and had to get Nic inside.”

“Why?” I focus intently on holding the pillow in place over my crotch.

“Because I couldn’t let her see—”

“No, why is he here?” I nod to Nic. “Ciao, Nic. Come stai?”

“Bene, e tu?”

“Così così.” I nod toward my crotch. “So you guys’re, what, staying here tonight?”

Matty shrugs.

“Can you at least toss my shorts?”

Matty kicks them across the floor.

Carefully hoisting them on, I drop the pillow. “What am I supposed to do?”

Matty whispers something to Nic, who shrugs and kisses Matty’s cheek. Matty blushes, then rushes over to me, hooks his arm around mine, drags me into the bathroom, and shuts the door. “Can you bunk with Benny?”

“Are you kidding?”

“Please! I really love this guy!”

“Love?”

Matty looks at me with the biggest puppy dog eyes. “Okay, not like love love, that was a strong word, but have you seen him? I—I really want him to be my first.”

I rub the exhaustion—and blue ball haze—from my eyes. “Really?”

He nods. “We talked all last night and spent the day together today.”

“Yeah, we saw you at the Avello farm.”

His nostrils flare. “I knew it! I need more about you and Ricky STAT!”

“So much to catch you up on,” I say. “We caught Cam cheating on Ricky.”

Matty’s eyes widen so large they look like they’re about to fall out of his skull.

“I know, but tell me about Nic! How’d that even happen?”

He swoons and sighs, and the smile that stretches across his face can light even the darkest nights.

“While you and Ricky were busy exchanging passionate looks and moments at the groves yesterday, I was off on my own, taking selfies against the lemons like a goober and not paying attention to anything when . . .” He recounts the rest of their fated meeting in Hallmark movie–level detail.

Making ridiculous faces, sticking his tongue out, Matty worked the camera doing one of those 360 videos of the grove and the valley and coastline, and as his body rotated and came back around to where he started, in the back of the frame, Nic Jr. was standing, arms folded, all devilish smiles, leaning against a guardrail.

Matty froze, unable to move. He wanted to “crawl up [his] own ass and disappear.” But then Nic Jr. raised both arms, opened his hands, and pressed both to either side of his face, creating moose antlers.

He stuck out his tongue for the camera and crossed his eyes.

Matty caught it all on camera, and shows me the footage as proof.

“Love at first sight,” I say.

“My knees got weak and my dick got hard,” Matty confirms.

At once, Matty turned around to face Nic Jr., who did a twice-over at Matty’s body. Then Nic Jr. held out his hand to Matty and said, “I’d like to show you something.”

“Oh, spicy,” I say. “I didn’t even know you disappeared.”

“Ricky Haze,” Matty says. “I told my ma I was going off to explore on my own. I followed Nic up the mountain to an overlook.” Matty describes the unobstructed panoramic near-360-degree view of the Amalfi valley, the way it felt like he was sitting on top of the world looking down, like a bird in flight.

“And we just talked, for like an hour. And kept moving closer and closer.”

“How’d he know you were interested?” I ask.

Matty glares at me. Blinks twice. “If my boner didn’t give it away, my rainbow bracelet sure did.” He lifts his wrist to the bracelet Zia Rosa gave him after he came out as a show of support and love.

“What’d you talk about?”

“He told me how isolated he felt here, and I told him I felt the same back home—excluding you, obviously. But, like, at school and stuff. We have a lot in common, and as he told me all about his life and what it was like to live here year-round, in such a small school, working on his family’s farm, I don’t know, I felt so connected to him. Like we understood each other.”

“With all the backbreaking labor you do back home,” I jest.

“Hey, I bench above my weight.” He flexes for me.

“Did you do that for Nic?” I ask.

Matty raises an eyebrow. “Worked like a charm. He asked if he could feel my bicep, and one thing led to another, and he leaned in and kissed me and . . .” He sighs again.

“Good?”

“Best kisser ever. Very Fourth of July fireworks finale. And obviously I didn’t want to stop. Neither did he. So we made plans to hang all day today. We tried not to be caught. Nic’s parents are great, but, you know, not so many locals around here are. Nic doesn’t want anyone to know he’s gay.”

Matty goes on to tell me about everything Nic shared with him, and how they bonded over their fear of being out.

Matty feels comfortable with Nic because he gets it.

I think every gay guy experiences that fear, even ones like me who come out before puberty, or are lucky enough to not have to come out.

Between Matty and Ricky and seeing stories from other teens on Clock in less accepting areas of the country or world, I know enough to know that’s still not the case everywhere.

“I’m really happy for you. Both. That you guys found a safe space in each other.”

“I’ve never been more ready to—” Eyes wide, he continues, voice lowered. “I’m . . . scared. Especially because Nic isn’t a virgin. He’s been with girls before.”

“So it’d be both of your first times, then. With guys. You’re on the same page. Don’t focus on anything but each other. And don’t do anything you’re not ready for. You can say no or stop at any time—”