3 Sides to a Circle (5 page)

“Toby
!” Libby screams, pounding on my door until I stumble from my bed and pull it open.

“What?”

Christ, she’s adorable. She’s in a tank top with her bright orange bra straps showing and oversized jeans that have slipped down so I see the top of her…thong. Sweet Jesus, I now know Libby has a thong.

She looks me
over. “Fuck. I thought I’d finally caught you masturbating. I can’t tell you how many different times I’ve tried. What the hell, dude? Aren’t you starting to get frustrated?”

No. I do it in the shower where I’m sure Libby won’t barge in.
And I’ve suddenly got thong to add to my fantasy material. But I’m not about to mention this.

“Did you want something real?”

She pushes her way into my room and eyes it skeptically. I have one poster on the wall and the rest of my room is sort of guy-standard. Navy comforter. Plaid sheets. Two tall stacks of books in the corner. I’m not obsessively tidy, but I can’t concentrate in mess, especially after Tomas, so the room is relatively clean.

“You need to add something to this room. It’s like the saddest room in the entire world.
The books are cool, I guess. And I know you like them. But one poster. And it’s a
Serenity
poster, no less. Don’t you like any bands?”

I shrug. “Of course.
But not enough to hang them on my wall. That’s high school.”

She nods. “Okay. That’s true. I’d never trust a guy with band posters on his wall. But if he had like Monet or Degas or something, I’d probably jump him two minutes after meeting him.”

Noted and filed away for the future.

I grab my wallet from my desk and shove it in my back pocket. When Libby drops by, it’s usually with a coffee intention. “I thought you weren’t into guys?”

I’ve been pushing this for weeks. Ever since she first brought it up in front of the tatted guy at the coffeehouse. But so far, she’s evaded my questions or gave me a bunch of vague answers. Not that she needs to come out to me or anything if she is gay, but I’m really curious. And frankly, if she’s batting for the other side, I’d like to know before I figure out if I’m even gonna make a move.

I’m sort of from a small town and
pathetically, we didn’t have one gay person in our entire high school. I’m not against it or anything, I just thought one of the great things about going to college outside of Nebraska would be to actually expand my world, and if I’m not gonna date her, having a purple-haired lesbian as a friend is pretty world-expanding.

“I’m on the continuum, Toby.”

I’ve read Kinsey. This is a bullshit answer, and we both know it. Before I can probe further, she grabs my hand and drags me out of my dorm room. “Where are we going? Coffee?” I ask.

“Yes, bu
t I’m actually already juiced. Mom sent chocolate-covered espresso beans, and I just snarfed half a pound of them. But we need to hit the coffeehouse to save Honor.”

I stop. Honor.
The other source of my constant morning discomfort. Although, she’s more of a vague presence. Definitely still a mystery. “Save her from what?”

“Fucking things up with the painter.”

My legs propel me forward again. “Honor has a painter? Why didn’t I know about this?”

Okay, so two things have happened since basically spending all my free time with these girls: I’ve started to get used to Libby’s frenetic ramblings
, and I’ve started to get really invested in chick stuff that I never would’ve cared about before. Especially if it involves how these girls feel about guys. It’s been a huge education. Like even better than having sisters because Libby does not hold
anything
back. And she will answer any question I have unless it’s directly about her. Honor is mostly quiet, but even she’ll sometimes weigh in on stuff I want to know or don’t get about girls.

Small high school pretty much meant
all the same girls since elementary. On top of that, I sort of grew into myself really late, and by the time that I actually looked like more than an eighty-pound weakling, almost everyone had paired off. Nebraska is sort of hardwired for high school sweethearts to grow fat together.

My town
, in particular, isn’t exactly progressive when it comes to going to college and moving out. Almost sixty percent of my graduating class wasn’t even going to a real college. And most of the ones that were had plans to go to the state school about forty-five minutes from town. I was one of three people in my class of one hundred and seventy-five who left the state after high school.

“Yes, Honor
has a painter. She won’t tell you because I think she’s worried about hurting your feelings. You’re kind of into her and she hasn’t made up her mind about you, but she’s got this painter who keeps asking her out so…”

“What do you mean I’m into Honor
?” I’m not into Honor. Okay, I’m maybe into Honor, but I haven’t cracked the code on her yet. And I also have a maybe lesbian girl I’m into who wears a thong and is so completely honest with me that it takes my breath away.

So yeah, I’m the asshole cliché of being stuck in a love triangle that only exists in my mind.

Honor

I’ve had to chant
it’s just coffee
over and over and over since I woke up this morning. Actually, if I’m being honest, I’ve been chanting that for two days—since he asked me out for coffee. I’m not sure what the difference is between going out with a guy now and going out with a guy when I was living at home. But I was so relieved that I didn’t scare him away by freezing up the other day that I jumped at the chance to try again—probably too fast.

Maybe
it’s that it’s college and he’s twenty-one so it feels adult? Or maybe it’s that I just sort of fell into dating the guys I dated into high school and this feels more like it’s my decision. Like it’s all on me. And it’s not like I didn’t have the decision last year or the year before, but this feels different somehow. Like I could just not show up and we’re not in the same circle of people and I’m not dying for friends like I used to be, so it wouldn’t be horrible for me to pull a no-show.

And once again it hits me how much I love being around Libby and Toby. Libby is fearless and amazing, and Toby’
s like my ally in her crazy. I have people. I won’t be without people if I don’t meet up with Sawyer, but at the same time, that freedom makes me realize how much I want to see him. Being in control, even over something this simple, is empowering. Though honestly, I’m still a wreck.

Libby’s pep
talk this morning only slightly helped because she got all off track when she was talking about how hot Sawyer is… She ended up talking about abs instead of how I needed to chill. Still…turning Sawyer into just a hot guy instead of the hot and sweet and seemingly perfect guy did help a little. In the few weeks I’ve known her, she’s helped me relax about loads of daily stuff that causes me anxiety.

I shuffle slowe
r as I near the art building. Me and Sawyer said we’d meet halfway between our classes, but he’s running late, and now I feel like I’m the one stalking him or picking him up, and that might be putting myself out there more than I want to be—so, yeah. I’m not really channeling Libby in the way I want to.

The moment I freeze on the sidewalk, Sawyer steps out of the art building, smiling wide when he sees me. I thaw a little, and part of me calms down because I’m here and he’s here and we’re obvious
ly going to sit and have coffee, and the rest of me winds up so tight I’ve lost words.

He buttons up the front of his
worn, gray pea coat and shoves his hands in his pockets. I stand, totally still, just waiting.

“You okay?” he asks when he stops in front of me. “You look frozen or…”

Terrified
? “I’m good. It’s just cold.”

“So, how was super algebra, or whatever you were just in?” He chuckles and my feet start to work again
as we walk toward the coffeehouse.

“
Abstract algebra, and I actually know what’s going on in there, instead of being lost like I am in the lit class we’re in.” The whole sentence came out, and I’m not feeling weird about walking with this guy who is almost too good looking to be real, and who is just…totally genuine. Or seems to be.

“And I don’t even know what abstract algebra means.” He lets out another
tight laugh, and I guess maybe Sawyer’s a little nervous too, which helps my shoulders relax and makes me feel like this is okay. That we’re a little more even than I thought we were.

“
And you do real art. I do art on a computer.” I’m not sure why I’m pointing out our differences, but I think again it’s making me realize how many ways I’m choosing this. We’re both going out of our way to spend time together. And that means something, which I like. A lot. Even though it’s scary to move forward with someone new.

“Honor.” He stops. “
The graphic stuff? On the computer? It’s real art. It’s just different mediums. Don’t sell yourself short on that.”

The seriousness of his words stun me for a moment before we start walking again. “I just like how easy it is to fix mistakes, and I’d hate any kind of art where I’d need to draw or paint a person.”
Sitting for too many hours in front of a camera has tainted that for me.

“Really?” He pushes open the door of Joe’s Coffee to let me in.

“Well, yeah. The model would seem so…
exposed
.” I swallow hard because I don’t want to tell him about that part of my life yet. How naked it feels to have someone looking at you as something that doesn’t feel personal. Human. Objectified is the absolute perfect word. I can hear the voice behind the camera in my mind—
Change the lighting. Move her arm so it hides that bit of extra flesh near her armpit. Make her stand over there. Change her clothes because the fabric doesn’t fall right over her hips…
Squint. Scrutinize. Judge. Watch. Fix. Fix. Fix. Because there are always imperfections. Always. I shudder to think of what the airbrush people say about me when the shoot is over.

“You okay?”
Sawyer rests a hand on my shoulder and I actually jump.

“Sorry.” I shake my head. “Got lost for a minute.”

“Man, I’m boring you already?” His brows go up, but his smile is teasing and once again I relax into being around him. “That’s not a good sign.”

I really can’t have him feeling bad because I picked the worst time to zone out.
“It’s all me.”

And then his hand moves away, and it’s like static—the kind of electricity that tingles a
nd leaves something warm in its path. Something I want to feel again.

He grabs our drinks because he knows I always get the same thing, and we move to a table. “I was just saying that most of the time, people really love that I want to pain
t them. That’s all. And I’d like to think that I paint the feeling of the person rather than the actual person, but maybe that leaves them more exposed?”

I think about what he said, and I have an answer,
maybe. He sips his coffee and I sip my tea, and there’s something new and exciting that tickles at my nerves but also something that’s walking on the edges of okay and comfortable, and I can’t believe I’ve been panicking about this for days.

“I’ve been dying to ask about your name. Story there?”
he asks.

“Yeah.” It’s the first time I’ve looked forward to sharing this story in a while. “My parents met when my dad was new in the Navy.
And so he’s always been gone half the time. I was sort of their miracle baby.”

He smiles
, and his eyes never leave mine. I’m totally doing this—talking and sharing and enjoying it.

“So,
” I continue, “Honor has to do with the military thing, but also as in honor between couples since he’s gone so much. And Mom named me when he was gone and I was born, and she couldn’t get a hold of him to tell him he was a dad. I was supposed to be Jessica.”

Sawyer’s eyes soften a little, but his gaze is no less direct.
“And now it’s this cool thing that’s not just between your parents, but you too.”

My heart squeezes because he gets it. Perfectly. “Yes. That’s exactly it.”
And it makes me miss them both so much.

Why was I so worried about
talking with Sawyer?

Toby

Libby is walking in her usual bouncy superfast way so we can “save” Honor, and I’m panting to keep up. Suddenly she stops. She points to a pile of leaves and looks at me with her giant kid grin. I don’t even have to ask. I go tearing after her until the two of us jump into the huge pile. Libby laughs and grabs a handful of leaves and tucks it into my shirt. I grab her and roll her on her back and pin her down.

She giggles and wiggles and I need to do something pretty quick or I’m going to embarrass myself. So I do the only thing I can think of, I dangle a
loogie over her face until she squeals and then I slurp it back up.

“Holy shit, Toby. I have
totally
rubbed off on you. That was incredible. You have to do that to Honor. She will freak out.” Libby’s eyes are all wild excitement, and her chest is moving up and down from her laughter. And I can’t stop myself from tracing my thumb along her bra strap. She sucks in a breath for a second, and we have a beat of a moment before she narrows her eyes.