“I know, it sounds weird.”
“No,” I say quickly. “I was thinking it was cute, actually.”
Hudson refocuses his eyes and looks at me and smiles. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. But I don’t get why that would make you angry at Brad for painting his nails.”
Hudson frowns and looks back at the sky. “So, I used to watch her do her makeup in the mirror every day. And I thought it was, like, so pretty and so cool, so one day I asked her to show me how to do it. And she just taught me. Didn’t even question it. So, then I start doing her makeup for her when I come over, and she let me play—crazy colors that don’t go together, drawing butterflies, sports team logos. A lot of really awful stuff, not pretty, but some of it … Anyway, so I put some on me, too, sometimes, but Grandma always wiped it off really quickly.
“So, then one day, my dad got off a job early and he came to pick me up—he had a key, and he walked in on me putting purple eye shadow on Grandma. And he stared at me, like he was really shocked, and I didn’t get it. Like at all. And even Grandma went kind of weird and immediately put the makeup away and got my backpack and sort of sent me away with Dad.
“I didn’t get what was happening at all. I just knew something was … off? And then that night, Mom came into my bedroom and she said that makeup was for girls. And I said okay, because I kind of already knew that. I wasn’t going to wear lipstick. I just liked putting it on Grandma. And she said that meant I shouldn’t do Grandma’s makeup anymore. So then I sort of understood. And I asked why. And this was before I even knew I was queer, but Mom said that boys who do makeup are a different kind of boy. ‘And those boys aren’t what you are.’” He pauses and says the words not in his mom’s voice, but solemnly, like a commandment. “And I didn’t get it, but I got it, you know? It felt a little like she’d been yelling, but she hadn’t. She was speaking in a soft voice and stroking my hair and she told me she loved me and tucked me in and I went to sleep. And so the next day, Dad said I could take the bus home and just hang out, and gave me a set of keys. Which seemed so cool! I didn’t even put the two together—me being home alone meant me away from Grandma.”
“Okay,” I say. He’s been just staring at the sky as he said it, and I’m doing my best to hold back tears for Little Hudson having this special thing he did with his grandma taken away from him. “But you know better now, right?”
“I mean … I get it, yeah. I know it’s just makeup, and here, at camp, it’s fine, right? But out in the world? My parents have met Brad. They know he’s one of my best friends. I think they think we’ll get married someday.”
“Oh.” I swallow, suddenly nervous and jealous and my body is shaking.
Hudson laughs. “Babe, don’t worry. I am not his type. But, like, Brad is one of the reasons my parents let me keep coming here, I think. Because there’s another gay guy like me. Who doesn’t have the makeup or the fans. And if he starts that, and he has makeup on or anything when my parents come to visit …”
“You’re afraid if he changes, your parents will think this place will change you,” I say. “And then they won’t let you come back.”
There’s a long pause.
“Yes.”
I lie down on the grass next to him. The sky has a slight haze in it as it gets later. It’s not dark, just grayer, and when I unfocus my eyes, the fake stars aren’t as blinding as they usually are. I try not to show the relief I’m feeling. He doesn’t hate makeup and fans and femme—he’s just afraid of his parents. He still thinks we can be whoever we want here … just not out there. Which is funny, because he always talks about being who we want out there. He’s made me braver. But when it’s your own parents, it’s different, I guess.
“I get why it freaked you out,” I say. “But also it’s Brad’s choice. And I don’t think nail polish means he’s changing. He’s still Brad. Just like if you took all the makeup off George, he’d still be George.” Just sadder George, I think. Although, isn’t that sort of what I’ve done to myself? Am I sadder? I would be if I didn’t have Hudson.
“I get that. I just … I saw it, and I thought of my grandma, and I thought of how I didn’t get to see her as much, and then I thought of my parents, and them seeing Brad, and them telling me next summer I should just stay home, and not seeing Brad again, or you … and it was like it all suddenly leaped into my head at once and I freaked out. But I was an asshole.”
“Yeah,” I say. “You kinda were. You should go apologize to Brad.”
“I will.” He laughs and turns onto his side, and I turn onto mine to look at him. He kisses me on the lips. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Just for listening. I’ve never told anyone any of this before, but with you, it’s like, when I say it, I can deal with it.”
“That’s what boyfriends are for, right?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Or if they are, I’ve never had a boyfriend before.”
“Well, you haven’t. That was Hal.”
He smiles and kisses me again, deeper this time, his hands around my back pulling me into him. Then he rests his head on my shoulder, still squeezing me.
“I love you,” he whispers.
My heart actually stops for a minute. I’m positive. I’m a medical marvel for one instant as every cell in my body freezes up, blood stops flowing, lungs stop breathing, brain stops … brain-ing. And then it all starts up again.
“I’m sorry if it’s too soon to say that,” he says.
“I love you, too,” I say quickly. I don’t add: I’ve loved you for years. Later, I’ll tell him later, when I reveal everything to him. He loves me. He said so. That’s the part of the plan I never thought would work, really. The next part. The part that means now I CAN tell him, but he won’t mind, because he loves me, and maybe I should tell him right now … but why ruin the moment? Right? It would ruin the moment. I’ll tell him later. Not now.
I kiss him instead.
TWENTY
By the time color wars starts on Friday, I haven’t told anyone about our I Love Yous. I wanted to keep it private, hold it close, not to be shared for George and Ashleigh to make fun of, even if it would be the friendly teasing, the kind I deserve for getting what I want. At least for a little while. But my moments alone with Hudson—holding hands at dinner, kissing good night—feel so much more special now. So much more intense. This isn’t a summer fling. This isn’t just hormones. This is fate. This was meant to be. And everything I’ve done, my crazy scheme, all of that was what needed to happen for Hudson to finally love me the way I love him.
Honestly, I’m pretty proud of myself. I made a plan, and it was hard work, but I executed it. Sure, it’s not quite done—I still haven’t gotten all the way naked with Hudson (at least outside my imagination in the showers sometimes), I still haven’t told him the truth, or worn nail polish, or clacked a fan open in front of him, but I’ll do those things soon. Sunday after color wars, we already have plans to find some alone time at the Peanut Butter Pit. And if that doesn’t work, we signed up to share a tent on the canoe trip next weekend. Though the idea of waiting that long makes me kind of crazy. I’m willing to sneak out after curfew just to finally have sex with the man I love—and who loves me. Even if we get caught, it would be worth it.