Chapter 33

                                    

                                          
Finley
This is the first time all four of us have been in my room. Elly and Harlyn are both on my bed, sitting up against the wall and sharing earbuds. Max is sprawled on the floor, speed reading a book he's needed to read for two weeks now, researching for one of his final papers. Every two pages, he pops a Skittle in his mouth as a reward. It was fifteen minutes ago, after he ate a purple one, that we were told by Elly and Harlyn that the purple Skittles in England are black currant flavored, not grape. Max announced that he felt betrayed.
I'm sitting at my desk, writing out a sort of script for talking to my parents in thirty minutes. Something about writing it down and trying to be prepared for anything they might say has kept my anxiety down a little. But it's still obvious that I'm stressed. Harlyn keeps giving me reassuring smiles, Max keeps popping up to read me funny things in his book, and Elly has been sending me cat gifs over text. I'm grateful they're doing their best to make me feel better. But I won't feel entirely better until it's over.
I look back at my notebook, where I have a rough outline of how the conversation might go. I know that people are unpredictable, so it won't flow exactly like this. But I can at least guess at some of the arguments my parents will make. I have them listed after my partially outlined spiel with rebuttals and arguments for each. They're not all strong arguments, but they'll do for now.
Harlyn gives me his full attention as soon as I make eye contact with him.
"How should I introduce you?" I ask. "I mean, they know who you are but not...who you are."
"Oh. Right." He tilts his head.
"You could introduce him as your boyfriend," Max mumbles into his book. He sounds like he's on autopilot, like it's second nature to tease us about this.
I sigh. "Max..."
"I'm just kidding," he sings, still nose deep in his book.
"I mean..." Harlyn drawls. My eyes snap back to his. He shrugs slowly, giving me a shy smile. "You could."
Max finally snaps out of his study haze. "I'm sorry what?"
"Yeah, I'm sorry, what?" I say. Harlyn's eyes never leave mine, the unasked question hanging between us. The answer seems obvious after everything the last few weeks, after our conversation last Sunday night. Doing long distance kind of seals that deal. But we haven't actually said it. Asked it.
"You could tell them that," Harlyn says. "If you want."
I let a grin stretch my face. "Only if you ask."
He heaves a dramatic sigh, climbs off my bed and kneels in front of me. Max appears to have stopped breathing.
"Finley Bowers," Harlyn says, resting his hands on my knees. "Will you be my boyfriend?"
"You're so dramatic," I tell him. "Of course, I will."
Max lets out a decidedly childish squeal and launches himself at Harlyn. They tumble backward onto the floor, limbs flailing and sticking out at unnatural angles.
"Get off of me, you weirdo," Harlyn laughs, shoving at Max's shoulder. "Seriously, I can't breathe."
"I can't believe I was here to witness that," Max says when he's upright again. He immediately launches himself at me, and I have to steady us on the edge of the desk.
Elly simply grins at me from the bed. Max finally untangles himself from me and flops back on the floor, sighing contentedly.
"You know, Finley," Elly says. "I don't think we're going to make it to our forty year marriage pact now that you're with Harley here."