Starry-Eyed (21 page)

“Right.” Jesse wasn't off-book yet; he held his copy in his Nerf-wordless hand. “And Mercutio doesn't really care much about the whole family feud thing. It's Tybalt himself he doesn't like. Mostly because he's a good swordfighter, though that doesn't make sense. Why would Mercutio care?”

“He's jealous,” Landon suggested. “Let's say Mercutio's mostly jealous of Tybalt. You know, Tybalt's good at swordfighting—he's good at
everything
, and Mercutio knows he's only ever going to be second-best.”

“But Mercutio's funny. Everybody likes him.”

“He'll never be important the way Tybalt already is. Come on. Let's try it that way.”

Jesse went into a fighting stance. Just seeing Jesse's muscles flex beneath his T-shirt was enough to make Landon almost forget his lines. Luckily, Jesse spoke first: “Well, peace be with you, sir. Here comes my man.”

As Jesse tried lowering his sword, Landon pushed forward, using his own Nerf blade to knock Jesse's back into dueling position. ‘“But I'll be hang'd, sir, if he wear your livery—'”

“Wait,” Jesse cut in. “Is it, like—we decided Mercutio's jealous of Tybalt, but he's protecting Romeo.”

“A lot of productions portray Mercutio being in love with Romeo.” Landon couldn't quite meet Jesse's eyes. Yeah, he was out and everybody in school knew it; that didn't make it much easier to talk about it. “Romeo doesn't love him back. Obviously. The play's not
Romeo and Mercutio
. But that's one reason Mercutio might be so—over the top here. Not that he's not over the top everywhere.”

That made Jesse smile again. “So does he think Tybalt's a rival?”

Maybe it was just an acting suggestion. But the idea that Mercutio could be gay—layered on the well-known fact that Landon was gay—and
this didn't seem to turn Jesse off, and in fact Jesse seemed to want to play with the concept . . . well, it was all
extremely interesting
.

Heart thumping, Landon tried to speak casually. “What if maybe Mercutio's only pretending to be into Romeo? What if he's trying to make Tybalt jealous for a change?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, Mercutio wants to see how Tybalt would react. To find out if maybe—maybe Tybalt would wish Mercutio was into him instead of Romeo.” Had he actually spoken those words out loud? Too late to take them back now. Landon plowed ahead. “Which of course is a long shot and maybe even kind of crazy, but that's how Mercutio acts a lot of the time.”

Jesse just went back into a fighting stance. “Let's try it.”

They tried it, and the scene went from merely okay to bottled lightning. Or so it seemed to Landon. He was acting now,
really
acting, or at least it felt like it. But the thrill came from more than just feeling like he could play a scene without having to cheat. Every time his eyes met Jesse's, he was free to show all the longing he felt—the hopeless, helpless desire. And every time, the mysterious dark fire in Jesse's gaze answered him.

After three or four run-throughs, Landon felt like they had it.

They ran through it twelve times.

Then they made pizza bites. Then they played
Resident Evil
for an hour. Then they hung out up in Jesse's room, lying on the floor, listening to the Kills, and Landon stopped looking at the time. Even if he broke curfew for once, he could make sure his parents didn't care.

Which depressed him, as usual. So Landon decided to stop thinking about himself for a while. “What are you putting into Tybalt?”

“What do you mean?” Jesse lay next to him. Their feet were touching, but that was probably accidental. Probably.

Landon kept staring at their feet, instead of Jesse's face; that seemed easier. “He's so angry, but it's all beneath the surface. How did you come up with that?”

Jesse was quiet for a while. The only sound was the music. By now Jesse could have pulled his foot back, but he hadn't. “Well. I thought maybe Tybalt's the golden boy, you know? Capulet doesn't have a son, so he puts it all on him. Tybalt has to be the next in line. The best at everything. And he's good at a lot of stuff, but it's never enough. He just wishes he could stop doing what everyone else wants him to do and find out what
he
wants to do. But he can't. So he lashes out. He thinks attacking the Montagues will make him feel stronger, but it's not them he hates. It's everybody who keeps putting pressure on him.”

For a few minutes more, they lay there together. The floor seemed to vibrate with the bass beat. Finally Landon said, “Why did you try out for the play?”

“My parents thought my college applications needed to be ‘well-rounded.'”

“That's crazy. You're already good at everything. How many trophies are there in your living room? What, like, three dozen?”

Jesse shrugged.

It occurred to Landon that none of the trophies were in Jesse's room. No team photos, either. His parents were the ones who wanted to look at them. He remembered the bitter edge in Jesse's voice as he'd said
the golden boy
. “So you never even wanted to try theater?”

“I don't know. I thought about it, but I never—well, it always seemed like I had too much to do, before.” He turned his head sideways just as Landon did. Their eyes met, and suddenly Landon felt like he could hardly breathe. “Turns out I like being in the play, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Some parts of it.” Jesse's gaze had drifted from Landon's eyes to his mouth.

I'm not doing this
, Landon thought desperately.
I'm not. No
thump.
I'm not doing this, so it can't be happening, but I'm pretty sure it's happening, but it
can't be—

“Like what?” Landon said. The words came out unsteady.

But Jesse didn't seem to notice. He didn't answer, either. He just rolled onto his side, bringing his face closer to Landon's—not close enough to kiss, but too close for it to be nothing. Way too close for that. They hesitated there for a moment. Landon wasn't going to make the first move. He couldn't, knowing what he knew about himself. But he realized he'd parted his lips, and he wasn't going to pull away.

Jesse kissed him.

In that first instant, Landon felt nothing but shock.
Ohmigod Jesse's kissing me and I'm kissing him back and it's nothing like I thought it would be
.

But then their lips met again, and Landon got pulled out of his over-active brain and into his skin. Into the way that they touched, the way they started to breathe in and out in a rhythm, in the way Jesse moved and tasted. There weren't any words left in his brain, except maybe Jesse's name.

They tangled together on the floor, kissing faster and slower, shallow and deep. Jesse's fingers wound through Landon's hair; Landon's fingers found the belt loops of Jesse's jeans. Landon's body seemed to be taking over for his mind more every moment, but nothing his body felt was more powerful than this unfamiliar, incredible joy.

Jesse rolled Landon onto his back, and Landon helped tug Jesse on top of him—but that was the moment the song ended, the moment they heard a woman's voice call, “Jesse?”

“
Mom
.” Eyes wide, Jesse scrambled off Landon about as fast as Landon scrambled out from under him. As footsteps came closer to the door, they both jumped to their feet. Jesse's long T-shirt gave him some coverage, but Landon realized he needed camouflage right away. He flung himself into Jesse's desk chair, scooping up the drowsy cat and depositing her in his lap so Mrs. Pearce wouldn't see just how much fun they'd been having.

When she opened the bedroom door, she suspected nothing. (“Well, I'm glad you kids want to do your best! But isn't it getting late? Jesse, you know you've got swim practice tomorrow morning.”) Then they had to say their good-byes quickly, with Mrs. Pearce standing right there, which meant the most incredible first kiss imaginable ended with an awkward
wave and a promise to see each other in class tomorrow. Within five minutes, Landon was back outside, walking his bike to the curb, almost shaky from the jolt of panic and arousal together.

He tried burning off the energy by pedaling home fast; the whole way, he composed text messages to Jesse. No two were the same, because he had no idea what to say.

I had fun tonight
. No.
Want to “rehearse” again this weekend?;)
Absolutely no. That was awful.
Sorry if that got weird
. Even worse. Maybe he should try the absolute truth.
All I can think about is what it was like to kiss you
.

Oh, no. Definitely not that. He might as well text,
Hi, my name's Landon, and I'll be your creepy gay stalker this evening
.

As soon as he pulled into his own yard, though, his phone chimed. Landon lifted it to see a text from Jesse:
Quick thinking up there. But my cat might need therapy
.

It would be so easy to laugh. To send back a joke, something else, anything. Instead, he could only stand there staring at the phone.

Another text from Jesse:
See you tomorrow?

Landon typed,
Yeah, see you then.

Which was a whole lot less than he wanted to say. So much less than he felt.

But all Landon could think was,
Did I make that happen
?

. . . . .

Jesse's one study hall had turned out to be the same period as drama class, so ever since he'd been cast, he'd sat in with the rest of them, taking notes as Mrs. K talked about acting as a way of telling the truth, about how finding common feeling between you and your character was a way of being honest in any scene. Landon took these notes too, though lately he'd mostly been writing as though on autopilot while staring at Jesse the whole time.

The morning after their private rehearsal, Jesse came in late—right at
the bell. Landon's heart turned over at the sight of him, especially when Jesse smiled at Landon before grabbing a seat in the back. Knowing he didn't deserve that smile made him want to be sick.

Of course, Mrs. K decided this was the perfect day for Landon to give the “Queen Mab” speech as an example of finding emotion in a monologue. Landon had worked hard on the “Queen Mab” speech, but today he hardly felt like he could face his classmates. When he got up to perform, he simply recited the speech, putting no feeling into it whatsoever. But he projected toward the class—even to Jesse, as unforgivable as it was to screw with his mind yet again—the sense that this was pure brilliance.

“‘And in this state she gallops night by night.'”
Thump
. “‘Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love.'”

Faking it with his mysterious talent always made him feel like crap. Today, feeling like crap was exactly what he deserved.

When everyone clapped at the end, Landon could only stare at the floor. He couldn't bear to look at any of their faces, Jesse's least of all.

Landon didn't see Jesse again until lunch. Claire was at the orthodontist, so he sat alone at a bench at the far end of the outdoor eating area. He could have texted her (he had thought about it approximately eight zillion times since last night), but he still hadn't figured out what to say. The weather had turned cold enough that most people didn't eat outside any longer. Landon huddled in his jacket and started on his sandwich, hoping to be alone—until Jesse sat down across from him.

“Hey,” Jesse said, unpacking one sandwich, and another, and another, plus an apple and an entire quart of milk. “You okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” Landon didn't quite know what to say. “Wow. That's a lot of lunch.”

“Swimming makes me hungry.” Jesse took out a Kit Kat bar. “But I'll split this with you.”

Okay, when you went all gooey inside just from somebody offering to break their Kit Kat in half, you had it bad. Landon summoned his courage. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

Landon made certain everybody else eating outside suddenly got really interested in the far side of the quad before he looked Jesse in the eye. “Are you gay?”

Jesse didn't immediately answer. Landon's hopes rose. But Jesse said only, “I don't know.”

“What do you mean, you don't know?”

“I'm not trying to make excuses, all right? Or push you away. It's just—I didn't expect this.” Jesse sighed and stared at the gray sky for a few moments. “Last year, you know, I was hanging out with this girl—”

“Hannah Silverberg.”

“I guess we were kind of obvious about it. Anyway. The thing is, I liked being with Hannah. But last night, with you—I liked that too.” Jesse's shy expression felt like it might rip Landon open.

“Yeah. I mean, so did I.” But Landon couldn't smile back, knowing this wasn't real.

Jesse continued, “So I'm just not sure. It's kind of scary, because maybe I'm not the person I thought I was. But when we were hanging out, I got less scared. So maybe we could, you know, see if we . . . fit.”