Page 21 of The Summer of Everything

The tradition continued into Wes’s teens, though without Calvin, who shifted his schedule to be home at more reasonable times. But Nico replaced him on the sofa for homework and vicious battles onMario Kart. And he’d always bring tea for Wes.

Wes pops the lid, inhaling. Darjeeling. He takes a careful sip, smiling around the lip of the cup. He whispers, “Thanks,” but he knows what he should be saying: “I love you.”

“No hay problema,” says Nico.

“Okay,” Ella grunts, hopping off the counter. “This is boring.” Over her shoulder, she adds, “And I think I’m gonna hurl,” with enough of a smirk that Wes knows she’s been thoroughly entertained by his recurring inability to “man up.”

He’s glad someone’s enjoying his failed romantic comedy.

Nico has an obsession—Pinterest. Likea curator at a gallery, he collects artwork and quotes and scenic photography. He has mood boards for mood boards. It’s a harmless hobby. But Wes would be lying if he didn’t admit he loves the way Nico’s eyes crinkle as he talks about each pin the way a wordsmith talks about their poetry.

Wedged between the wall behind the front counter and Nico’s warm body, Wes drinks his tea. Every swipe to a new pin, Nico says, “This one’s sick,” while checking to ensure Wes approves. He always does.

“This is my new favorite,” Nico whispers. Black and white text over a blurred photo of a bicycle clearly using the Gingham filter reads,“I’m not single, I’m not taken, I’m simply on reserve for the one who deserves my heart.”

Yeah. Mine too. Wes’s future Instagram bio will read: “Whipped and pathetic since day one.”

The words are right there, plain as day, in Wes’s mind:Do you want to go out sometime? As, like, more than friends?

Nico swipes to another pin. Some sort of architecture. Nico’s all over the place with his interests.

Just say it.

The next pin is Nightwing fanart.

Wes says, in a small voice, “I haven’t seen you draw in a while.” Nico used to love to doodle heroes and villains in the margins of his notebook in class. He’d sketch on any surface that would hold Sharpie ink. He’d use highlighters to outline capes and eyes and hair on college-ruled paper.

The skin between Nico’s eyebrows is pinched. “Kind of got away from it, I guess.”

He did. Right around…Shit. Wes is an idiot. Nico stopped drawing after sophomore year. Just after Mr. Alvarez died.

Wes’s shoulders pull tight. He glares at the dirty toe of his once-white Converse All-Stars, studying the yellowed laces. He wipes his sweaty palms along the thighs of his jeans.

How did he forget?

“Hey.” Nico’s bony fingers squeeze Wes’s right knee. “The Smiths, Pearl Jam, or Nada Surf?”

To other people, One of These Three Things is probably the corniest, most childish, third-grader-bored-on-a-summer-road-trip game. But to Wes and Nico, it’s a keepsake, one they use to navigate through slow days at the bookstore or times way too heavy for deep discussions. It’s a get-out-of-jail free card they’ve used frequently when something awkward happens.

Admittedly, it’s a knockoff of that old, stranded-on-a-desert-island game. But instead of choosing three objects, players have to pick the one thing they can’t live without from three options chosen by someone else.

Wes ponders his options.

“I think I know,” Nico says.

“You do?”

“Duh.” Nico’s lips twist up smugly.

Wes loves that, though Nico’s Spotify is crammed with current hip-hop artists and a few guilty pleasure pop tunes, Wes can still scroll through and find random songs by Foo Fighters or Gin Blossoms. That he’s influenced Nico enough to create an entire playlist calledShit for Wesley.

It’s in this moment that Wes realizes he can’t simply blurt out his feelings for Nico. Hell no. He can’t half-ass this. Nico, who has playlists in his phone dedicated to Wes, who brings him tea, who doesn’t call Wes out for being a forgetful friend and invoking memories of his dead father, deserves better than that.

Wes needs to conduct research; gather intel. If Wes is going to do this, he has to ensure there’s no way Nico will reject him. This moment requires a bulletproof list of ways to ask Nico on a date.

“Dude.” Cooper leans eagerly across the counter, interrupting Wes’s thoughts. “You’ve got to go with the Smiths. It’sMorrissey.”

“No, no,” Anna objects. “Pearl Jam. Relatable content.”

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