One True Loves Read online

  It makes me want to be present and intentional, to reach out and capture these moments so I can store them and save them for later. For when we’re all spread out at different colleges and everything I know and love is never the way it is again, just right now.

  For about a year when I was little, I used to carry around a gigantic pink Polaroid camera, and whenever I saw anything interesting—a family of ants, a lunch box abandoned on the school lawn, skies that looked like watercolor—I would disappear behind it and click. I went through so much film, basically wallpapering my room with the photos, that my mom put me on a weekly limit. Like some old man with a cigarette habit.

  “Why do you take so many pictures?” I remember my older brother, Wally, asking me. “They’re not even good.”

  “I’m just memorizing,” I said, and he rolled his eyes at me. But really, I still think that’s the best word for what I was doing. How else can you make sure the little moments aren’t forgotten?

  I don’t know what happened to that pink camera, and I don’t have my own camera now. Only my phone, and it won’t do any of this justice.

  So, I use my mind to memorize how Theo throws his arms around me and hugs me tighter than he ever has in the four years I’ve known him. I memorize my mom stepping in for Lavon and straightening out his bow tie, the same way she did when my brother went to his first dance with his boyfriend. I memorize Sam pulling Miles into his picture with Tessa, right in the middle, like it’s no big deal. I memorize Dad’s sparkling white smile, so big you can see the pink of his gums.

  I wish I could know for sure that I’ve gotten all of it, that I would never forget. I wish I could guarantee that this was not the end of the good, that I could ensure that there’s just as much good waiting for me at NYU next year.

  And I wish . . . I wish Jay was here for it all. I finally let myself admit it. In my head, of course, because there’s no need to bring drama to the buzzy, giddy vibes in the limo when we’re finally on our way. I know he’s being irritating and not texting me back right now, but that doesn’t erase the fluttery feeling I get in my chest when he whispers “Hey, lady” late at night on the phone or the ache in my stomach when we sneak away to the fourth-floor stairwell during conservatory.

  I wish Jay was here to hold my hand and let my head rest on his shoulder, like my friends are all doing with their people right now.

  But of course, he can’t be.

  Chapter Two

  Jay Parikh and I started talking in October. And by talking I don’t mean just saying what’s up in the stairwells at Chrysalis Academy, the arts high school we all attend. I mean, like, seeing each other. Not only each other, but, like, not seeing anyone else? It’s casual.

  It’s not dating. Because as Jay told me after we first hooked up at Brett Kwan’s Halloween party (he was Waldo from Where’s Waldo?, I was Eartha Kitt as Catwoman), he doesn’t do dating. Not because he doesn’t want to. But because of his parents. They want him to focus on school and not get distracted by girls. That’s the reason we have to sneak around a little bit—making out in the back of my mom’s minivan in the library parking lot and stealing away at parties and group hangs, instead of having, like, proper dates. We’ve never been on a proper date, I guess. Like in the movies, when the twenty-eight-year-old-looking teenager takes his girlfriend to some fancy Italian place that’s not the Olive Garden and pulls out the chair and opens the door and for some reason drives a brand-new Audi. But who really goes on dates like that anyway? And yeah, the sneakiness can get annoying sometimes. He sometimes takes hours to respond to my texts (if he even does at all), and then there was that one time I had to hide in his closet for a full-on hour when his mom unexpectedly stopped at home for some tea before her podiatrist appointment. But I go along with it because I want Jay.

  I knew I wanted Jay from the minute I first saw him.

  It was the first Thursday of this school year, in an advanced painting class. I’ve been conservatory-hopping since I first started Chrysalis freshman year—not because I’m unfocused, like Ms. Ramiro, the guidance counselor, tried to say. Nah, because I’m just really fucking talented in a lot of areas. But it being senior year and all, Ms. Ramiro said I could only take classes in my actual conservatory, visual arts. Minimum requirements for graduation or whatever. So that’s how I ended up at an easel next to the most gorgeous boy I’ve ever seen in my life.

  Brown skin with floppy black hair. But not, like, annoying bro floppy—cool intentional floppy. A Low End Theory shirt, ripped black jeans, and Off-White Chicago Jordans. Style. A half smirk and dark brown eyes that were alert, assessing. And just the vibe coming off him. Normally I don’t care what people think of me, but with Jay, I had this immediate and overwhelming urge to get his approval. To do a little dance to get his attention. To throw myself across his workstation and demand that he draw me like one of his French girls.

  And then he talked to me.

  “Hey, lady.”

  Believe me, I know that should be corny as hell. And I probably would have laughed and kept right on moving if it was anyone else. But for some reason those words spun around in my head, did fluttery figure eights around my heart like fucking butterflies, and then hit my stomach like a lightning bolt and made me ache down to my toes. It was stupid.

  It was everything.

  I want Jay. And this sneaking around, together-but-not-really-together setup is the only way I get to have him for now. So I go with it. How can I not?

  Prom is at the Aquarium of the Pacific in downtown Long Beach, which I thought would feel like we’re going on a fifth-grade field trip or whatever. But I was wrong. The tanks line the walls from floor to ceiling, casting the main room in a romantic blue glow, with the fish projecting soft shadows across the bodies moving on the dance floor. And there’s twinkly lights hanging from the ceilings, which seem to give everything an extra otherworldly sparkle. The only thing taking away from the magic is the old-ass Bruno Mars song blasting from the speakers, like someone’s parents were in charge of this playlist, but that’s temporary.

  “Oh my god,” Tessa exhales as we walk under the life-sized model of the giant blue whale hanging in the lobby. I can almost hear the words starting to form in her head, her hands itching to type this setting down. “How is this so perfect?”

  “Are you happy?” Sam asks. His arm hooks around her hips, and he leans in his chin to rest on her shoulder.

  “Yes,” she says, all cute and quiet. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” And then they kiss, and I realize I need to stop staring because they’re having a moment and I’m being a creeper.

  “Where do y’all want to go first?” I say, turning to Theo and Lavon. “You think the moon jelly touch tank is open?”

  Lavon laughs, but Theo’s attention is somewhere else. I follow his gaze to the photo booth that’s set up. Grayson and Poppy, two kids Tessa used to chill with junior year before she got her head on straight, are wrapped up in each other and doing the most with sharp poses and puckered lips. Which, okay. They ain’t Gigi Hadid.

  “You want some glamour shots?” I say, elbowing Theo.

  “It might be entertaining, right?” He shrugs, looking much less composed than I’m used to seeing him. “But, you know, in an ironic way.”

  Tessa laughs, out of her Sam spell. “Yeah! We have to. We can pose like this!” She stands behind Sam and wraps her arms around his belly. Her head cocks to the side at an unnatural angle and a plastic smile stretches across her face.

  “Perfect!” I shout, jumping behind her and joining in. “We gotta embrace the cheese.”

  Theo lets out a quiet laugh. “Yes, I know it’s a bit silly. . . .”

  Lavon moves in closer to him, putting his hand on the small of his back. “It’s not silly if it makes you happy, babe.” Theo smiles for real, the kind of smile that reaches his eyes, and then they lean in for a small, sweet kiss.

  “Okay, pictures it is!” I shout, springing back from Tessa a
nd Sam, who have that whole starry-eyed thing going again now, too. “But first, let’s grab a table before all the good ones are gone. You know the early birds already grabbed the tables by those Nemo-and-Dory-looking fish, but maybe if we hurry up we can sit by the rays. They have such cute little faces.”

  What am I even talking about? I have no idea, but I make my way through the crowd, and the two happy couples follow.

  The next hour passes by in a blur. Luckily, the music shifts from parent playlist to older sibling who’s only a little bit out of touch, so there’s some bops in there. I even get Tessa up to dance, and she never dances. Like, ever. I find myself taking out my internal camera again, trying to memorize these moments that I know are fleeting: Screaming along Beyoncé lyrics with Tessa. Sam doing some corny-ass boy-band-looking moves with so much confidence that people stop to look. The widest smile I’ve ever seen on Theo’s face as he and Lavon move in tandem. When they play some whiny slow-dance ballads and my friends move together like magnets and I’m left alone, the fifth wheel, I just go to the bathroom. I have no interest in memorizing that.

  The whole time my neck is twisting around, hoping to catch sight of Jay. I keep it on the down low, though, because I’m not trying to get a lecture from Tessa or Theo tonight.

  He still hasn’t answered my texts. I hope his parents didn’t make him skip the dance altogether. That would really suck, but maybe I could drive over to his place after the limo drops us off? Or I could even sneak away now, take a Lyft . . . it’s not like the happy couples would miss me too much. Jay’s room is on the first floor, and the screen punches out pretty easily. We’ve done it before. If only he would answer my texts . . .

  “You’re looking for him, aren’t you?” Tessa asks when we’re sitting at the table, taking a breather.

  I guess I wasn’t being as subtle as I thought. I don’t answer her, but my guilty face must give me away.

  “I thought you were done with him,” she says sharply, which makes Sam, Theo, and Lavon drop their convo about unicorn fish and zero in on us.

  “I didn’t say I was done, just that I was taking a step back.” Even as I’m saying it, I can hear how empty it sounds. I wasn’t taking a step back from Jay; I was taking a step back from bringing him up to my friends. “Listen, he’s not as bad as you guys think he is. He’s really sweet when it’s just us, you know?”

  “Lenore, he refused to introduce you to his parents,” Theo says, his voice stern.

  “Well, I’ve told you how strict they are. That’s not his fault, and he wishes it was different. It’s only a couple more months before he moves out, and—”

  “Even as a friend,” Theo cuts me off. “He wouldn’t even introduce you as a friend. These excuses you’ve created for him don’t hold up, and I know you’re aware of that, Lenore.”

  “And!” Tessa adds. “And why did he go with Rachel Chan to the winter gala then, huh? That sure looked like a date, and his parents definitely saw them there!”

  I feel a flash of annoyance that she’s bringing this up because we’ve already talked it over to death, and she knows how I feel.

  “That wasn’t a date,” I reiterate. My body feels pulled tight like a stretched canvas. “It was a friend thing.”

  Tessa and Theo both raise their eyebrows, perfectly in sync. Sam looks away.

  “It’s complicated. Just—like it’s easier with Rachel. His parents know her parents. They approve of her . . . as a friend, I mean.”

  “And what’s not to approve of about you?” Tessa asks quietly. She grabs my hands and squeezes them. She knows the answer to this question, and I can see her expression harden.

  Jay’s never come outright and said it, but I know the reason he hasn’t introduced me to his parents, even as a friend. I can see the real reason, the ugly reason, in the girls he does bring around his parents—Rachel Chan, Kayla Miller, Aesha Seth. I know they’ve been to his house for study sessions and even to hang out. I know they’ve been invited to stay for dinner.

  And I know those girls aren’t Black like me.

  But he can’t help his parents. And he doesn’t have what we have with those girls. They’re just friends. We’re something more. I know it.

  “We’re keeping it casual until he’s out of the house,” I say. It’s what I tell myself for comfort, when I see IG stories of him hanging out with other girls at his house, when I saw him walking with Rachel at the winter gala, his arm on the small of her back. “There’s no need for some big blowout when he’s so close to being on his own, you know? He’s not eighteen until the end of this month, and his parents are taking full advantage of grounding rights until then.”

  “If he liked you, he would fight for you,” Tessa says, as if it’s that simple. As if things are that easy.

  I pull my hands away from hers. “That’s not how real life works,” I say.

  “Well, it should.”

  “Can you just not right now?” The words come out colder than I intend, but I can’t help it. She’s always acting like life has some predetermined story arc. Like we’re all going to go from once upon a time to happily ever after, and we just don’t.

  I drag a finger under my eye before anything embarrassing can slide out. But I guess I’m not being slick enough because Tessa jumps up and throws her arms around me, pulling me in so tight that my nose is filled with the scent of her rose leave-in conditioner.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll shut up. I just . . . I love you.”

  “I love you too,” I tell her, putting my head against hers.

  “We should leave,” she says with conviction. “We should leave and drive-through In-N-Out and take it to the beach. I feel like we’ve gotten the full prom experience, don’t you?”

  “After photos,” Lavon reminds us, and Theo beams.

  “After photos,” Tessa agrees. “But then we should go. It’ll be fun. A last hurrah, all five of us.”

  I know what she’s trying to do. Make me feel included by getting me out of this environment that painfully highlights how I’m the fifth wheel, the permanent sidekick. But then there’s the fact that I’m the only reason we need a last hurrah in the first place. They’re all staying local next year. Theo and Lavon will be at CalArts, Tessa is going to UCI, and Sam is going to some prestigious culinary institute in LA while he interns at Food Network. I’m the only one who won’t be around for late night Double-Doubles and secret menu Neapolitan shakes. I’m the one who’s going to be a million miles away at NYU.

  I rub my fingers under my eyes again, harder this time. I need to get it together. I can’t be all in my feelings like this tonight or I’m going to ruin these last moments for everyone.

  “And waste these outfits?” I say, putting on the cool Lenore front that they expect from me. “Nah, girl, we need to stay until they kick us out. Plus, that limo won’t fit in the drive-through!”

  “In-N-Out is never a waste,” Tessa says, giving me a squeeze. “But I’m down to do whatever you want to—oh.”

  I see Jay on all their faces before I actually see him. They’re all silent at first, with wide eyes that shift to a spectrum of uncomfortable and mad.

  Finally: “Fuuuuuuuuuck.” Lavon lets it out in one long breath.

  I follow their stares to see Jay standing in front of a wall of floating, glowing jellyfish.

  The first thing I notice is how good he looks. A navy tux with shiny black lapels and stripes down the sides over a black turtleneck, finished off with blinding white sneakers. His hair is slicked back all suave, and the confidence that I can’t get enough of just oozes off him. Like I said, style.

  The second thing I notice, though, is Rachel. Standing close. Standing real close, closer than any friends I’ve seen before. And then she’s leaning in closer. His hand that was, I realize, on her waist slides down to her ass, and then she’s reaching up to grab his neck and their lips lock together like magnets. They don’t kiss like two people doing this for the first time. They kiss like two people who have be
en doing this for a while. Two people who have practice.

  “Lenore, wait,” Tessa says, because apparently I’m standing up. Apparently I’m walking over to Jay and Rachel, who are apparently comfortable enough to make out in public.

  I don’t even say anything when I get there. I don’t know what to say. But Tessa, who’s right behind me, takes care of that.

  “What. The. Fuck. What the fuck?!” It’s probably the loudest I’ve ever heard her be. Jay and Rachel spring apart.

  I expect him to start apologizing and explaining. He has to have an explanation, right? Not that I’m going to just accept it or whatever, but, like, I’ll listen. I’m already thinking about all the ways he’s going to have to make this up to me. I mean, it’s going to be a long road, but maybe we can get there?

  The apologies don’t come though. No explanations. He doesn’t even look embarrassed. In fact, I can’t read his face at all. The face I can read, though, is Rachel’s. It’s easy to interpret. She looks pissed.

  “Uh, hi?” she says. “Do you need something?”

  “Jay?” I sound so small and weak. I hate it.

  “Hey, Tessa.” He nods at her. “Hey, Lenore.”

  Lenore. He never calls me Lenore. Hey, lady. That’s been our thing since the very first day in advanced painting. It’s what he called me during our library parking lot hookups, during our fourth-floor stairwell meetings. That one night I snuck him into my bedroom and then out before five a.m., even though my dad would have murdered us if he ever found out. Never just Lenore.

  What’s going on? Is he . . . here with Rachel? Is he cheating on me with Rachel?

  “I, um, like—” I can’t form a complete thought, and I can feel my mouth hanging open and my brain tries to interpret all the information in front of me, to put everything together in a way that comes to some other, perfectly reasonable explanation.