“Cart and I have had some conversations. And I want him to feel comfortable here.”
The watercolors were gone. In their place hung a few neutral pieces of department-store art: brightly colored flowers in an otherwise desaturated photo; giclee prints of abstract paintings; the St. Louis skyline at night.
“Theo.”
“There needs to be space for him too,” Theo said, crossing his arms. “I’m trying to meet him halfway. And I’m really happy to see you, so let’s please not fight.” That tiny smile came back. “Not this early, anyway. Want some Doritos?”
So they sat at the table in the kitchen, and Auggie murdered Cool Ranch Doritos while Theo drank tap water.
“I thought you were in jail.”
“I was in jail. For about fifteen minutes. This time, I mean. I bailed out. It was all routine.”
“Damn.”
“If I try to go to Frozen King, though, I’ll officially be a wanted fugitive.”
“Damn,” Auggie said again. “That’s the real injustice.”
Theo laughed. “I’ve got a good lawyer. Things are going to be fine.”
“How’s Lana?”
“She’s doing well, thanks.” He had that Theo glow, the one that changed him from handsome to heart stopping, as he tucked his hair behind his ears. “It’s nice to be able to spend more time with her.”
Auggie stopped mid-chomp.
“Never mind,” Theo said. “I wasn’t supposed to bring that up.”
“They fired you.”
“They didn’t fire me. I’m a grad student. I’m basically forced labor.”
“Theo, why the hell did they fire you?”
“I was asked to take a leave from my assistantship. That’s all. Apparently, I’m distracting all the civically minded students from their work with my deviant, criminal behavior.”
“And?”
“And nothing.”
Auggie surprised himself—and, by the looks of it, Theo—by reaching across the table and tugging once on Theo’s hair. “The rest of it.”
“It’s a formality, Auggie. There’s going to be a disciplinary committee. I’ve got to stand up and tell them I’m sorry I set a bad example, please let me stay in your program, I’ll be a good boy. It’s nothing.” He shrugged. “I haven’t even told Cart.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“He doesn’t need to worry—”
“No, I mean, the disciplinary thing. What about innocent until proven guilty?”
“It’s the English department, Auggie. Less like the Supreme Court, more like an ineffectual parliament made up of a bunch of petty dictators.”
Auggie choked on a chip when he laughed. By the time he’d cleared his airway, with Theo pounding on his back, he had an idea. “Hold on.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Just hold on.” He grabbed his phone, pulled up a picture from last year—he’d taken it while Theo had his Shakespeare Glow on, chewing the eraser of a pencil as he sat on the couch, reading an article. His hair had been perfect that day. Well, everything about him had been perfect that day. And Auggie hadn’t been able to resist taking the picture. He messed with a few filters, settled for only the most basic enhancements, and posted it. No comment. No explanation. Just a tag: #hotguysreadshakespeare. Questions began to pour in. omg is he ur boyfriend? And he’s so hawt were among the most frequent.
“What did you just do?”
“Nothing.”
“August Paul Lopez.”
“Nothing!” Then Auggie grinned, “God, sometimes I think you and Fer would be best friends.”
Theo grunted suspiciously.
“And sometimes I think you would run away screaming.”
“If he’s anything like his younger brother,” Theo muttered.
Auggie kicked him under the table, and Theo glared and massaged his shin. Auggie popped a few more chips in his mouth, rolled the top of the bag closed, and said, “Well, since you’re not in jail, I guess I shouldn’t take up all your time. I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”
“And eat my chips.”
“And eat your chips.”
“Not with your mouth full, please.” Still rubbing the spot where Auggie had kicked him, Theo said, “Jail might be the least of my worries.”
“What do you mean? What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh boy.”
“I’m being dramatic. It’s nothing.”
Auggie rested his head in his hand.
“Just, you know, hypothetically,” Theo said, “what would you like to get on your birthday?”
“If I’m me, or if I’m a butch cop who buzzes his hair? Because if I’m me, my birthday was in February, and Dylan had a party, and we did shots of—”
Theo was making a noise.
“—um, ginger ale and watched Little House on the Prairie.”
“God damn it. I’m sorry, Auggie. Things were crazy; I dropped the ball.”
“It’s fine. But I don’t think you were asking about me. I think you were asking about Cart.”
“Ok. Ok, maybe I am.”
“Oh my God.”
“Please don’t do this.”
“Oh my God, it’s finally happening.”
“No. Stop. I take it back.”
“I wasted my first opportunity. Now I finally get a second chance.”
“I regret this. I regret everything.”
“You are asking me for boy advice. You.” Auggie pointed at Theo. “Asking me.” He pointed at himself.
“It’s not boy advice, because I’m not fourteen and reading Teen Vogue. It’s just advice in general. About birthdays. And I want to restate that I regret everything.”
“Hold on, I’ve got to get in the right headspace. Ok, first, gotta do this.” Auggie mimed pushing long hair behind his ears. “And then, gotta make my face super serious. How’s this?”
“You’re me? Is that what this is supposed to be?”
“And the voice gets deeper. Super serious.”
“Goodbye, Auggie. You can take the chips, but just go.”
“Something like this: ‘Well, Theo, giving a present to someone is very serious. It’s awakens all sorts of complicated, adult emotions. You really have to be sure you’re ready before you jump into it.’”
Theo started to push his hair behind his ears. He caught himself mid-act and glared at Auggie.
“You can’t just go around giving presents to everybody,” Auggie continued. “You have to be thoughtful about it. Be an adult. Really think about what it means to give somebody a present.”
“I hate you.”