Conventionally Yours (True Colors) Read online

  “No music yet,” our back-seat tyrant decreed, and my jaw went tight enough to carve ice sculptures, but I didn’t say anything. We didn’t need an argument ten minutes into the drive, even if part of me was itching for the fight.

  From Gracehaven’s downtown, we wove our way to I-295, which would take us into Pennsylvania, and lead us to our first tricky section—navigating Philadelphia’s many interchanges, while avoiding as many tolls as we could, and trying to avoid accidentally heading for the city center. I’d driven this part before when going home to Kansas—back when I had both a car and a home—and on other occasions when I had wanted a more happening club scene than the one in our sleepy little college town. With about an equal drive or train ride to Philadelphia or NYC, we had plenty of options if we wanted the whole big-city experience.

  But as much as I loved the food and night life, driving around Philly was always a challenge. Not so much the traffic, as I could handle that, but the confusing exits and signs and rapid need for lane changes. And knowing Alden was waiting for me to screw up wasn’t helping matters any. With a car full of friends, we’d miss an interchange, end up circling for an extra fifteen minutes or whatever, and no harm, no foul, but with Alden, I felt new pressure to be perfect, to not get lost.

  Which naturally meant that I did screw up. Because of course I did, messing up the part where we were supposed to connect with the outer-belt highway that skirted the city on our way to I-76, instead ending up on a straight shot to downtown—exactly what I’d hoped to avoid.

  “Rerouting. Rerouting. Rerouting,” the GPS chided in that stupid faux British accent.

  “Hey, how are we headed back into New Jersey?” Jasper tapped away at his phone as we approached signs for a bridge and Burlington, which was not at all where we wanted to be. But traffic was far heavier on this section, and the stupid boat of a car wasn’t exactly nimble for lane changes.

  “We’ll turn around. Double back.” I started looking for any possible exit prior to the bridge. In the back seat, Alden was rustling papers.

  “Take the U.S. 13 exit,” Alden pronounced. “We’ll hook back up with I-95. Not ideal, but—”

  “It’ll do.” I took the exit at pretty much the last possible second, but we made it. “Thanks.”

  “This is adding a great deal of time onto our day. If we get too far behind, we won’t make the game store before they close.” Alden sounded more anxious than angry, that earlier tension coming out in faster speech and restless hands drumming on the seat. Mad I could tune out pretty well, but anxious hit me somewhere softer. Away from the game, he really was a big ball of worries—the car, the trip, my driving…

  It made me less inclined to bite his head off for his decrees, which, while saving the peace, was also unsettling.

  “It’ll be okay. Promise.” The gentle words came out of my mouth without my brain’s permission. I didn’t want to feel compassion for Alden, didn’t want to try to understand where he was coming from, didn’t want to think of him as anything other than an annoying jerk who was also my biggest competition. And I still wasn’t over our argument from the day before, not by a long shot, so I hated this sudden urge to calm Alden down.

  As I sorted out the necessary lane changes, I tried to hold on to that sneer of his from the day before, the way he’d judged me. We weren’t friends, weren’t going to be friends, and me feeling bad because he was anxious wasn’t going to change any of that. This whole trip would be so much easier if we could simply stay enemies. The last thing I needed was the complication of suddenly seeing Alden as human instead of as the competition I had to defeat if I stood any chance of straightening my life out.

  Chapter Eight

  Alden

  I was done with back-seat riding before we reached our first stop. My anxiety kept spiking because I wasn’t remotely in control, and I wasn’t sure I trusted Conrad to get us there in one piece. Of course, thanks to Mimi and Mom I had pharmaceutical options for the jittery feeling that no amount of quiet breathing would relieve, but I hated taking them when I knew I had to drive later. That was the thing about anxiety—worries over whether to take the medication and when could be worse than the primary symptoms sometimes. But my current situation wasn’t that usual garden-variety dithering over when to take a pill. No, my pulse was pounding because Conrad kept missing interchanges and didn’t seem that fazed by it.

  Nothing threw him or changed his affable demeanor, not even almost crossing back into New Jersey. He and Jasper kept joking around with the GPS, which led to even more confusion. Finally, though, we were heading back out of the city proper, its collection of tall buildings behind us, morning sun fully up, but sky gray and hazy.

  “Not sure why I always seem to flub the exits downtown. Guess my brain wants to head to the clubs like old times.” Conrad’s laugh was as attractive as the rest of him, warm and sweet like maple syrup, but his words had me bristling.

  “Didn’t you just turn twenty-one? Like two months ago?”

  “I maybe had an ID. And not all the gay clubs in Washington Square look that closely.”

  “I wouldn’t know.” I let my scorn cover any other inconvenient emotions like regret or longing.

  “As in you waited until you were twenty-one before you went out? Or as in you’ve never been?” Jasper turned around in his seat to gape at me.

  “Parties are not a requirement of college life.” That longing was back, sharper now, a distinct wish to be casual like them, able to turn up at events and parties and find friendly faces without much effort. I tried hard never to let myself dwell on those sorts of feelings, and frustration over my emotions came out in my tone.

  “You’re missing—”

  “Leave it, Jasper.” Conrad kept his head facing the road, but I could almost hear his eye roll. “If it’s not an extracurricular for the ol’ résumé, Alden wants no part of it. He’s the only one who shows up just for the Safe Space business meetings and never for the social stuff.”

  No way was I telling him that I only went to the Safe Space meetings to keep Mimi’s nagging at a minimum and that the special events, particularly the unstructured gatherings, tended to require skills for interacting I simply didn’t have. Not to mention triggering my anxiety. But note-taking and voting on new rules and initiatives, that, I could do. I went to exactly enough meetings to satisfy Mimi and tried not to regret the lack of filter I’d had as a little kid, talking about “my husband” around the time that Mom had Mimi move in. I hadn’t known better and had simply assumed that adult people got to pair up as they saw fit.

  Fast-forward a bunch of years, and I knew the truth—there was no pairing up for me, no knight riding in to make me believe in soul mates again—but the whole “husband” phase had lit a fire under Mimi and Mom to get me in every rainbow-clad activity they could find. So yeah, I showed up at the meetings to work while kids like Conrad lounged around, picking up their next conquest as easily as shuffling a deck of freshly sleeved cards. And if I couldn’t even make small talk at those meetings, there wasn’t any hope for me at a gay nightclub, and I knew it.

  So, I let Conrad speak for me, let it seem I was just too studious and stuck-up to be bothered with partying. Neither of the other two was ever going to understand me, and there wasn’t much point in trying. Instead, I focused on the suburbs flashing by, gradually turning into farther-spread-out towns until our first stop, a little over three hours in, when Jasper began complaining about being hungry and Conrad started looking for a gas station.

  “All the signs for Hershey make me remember this one time when my folks brought all of us to tour the factory and go to the amusement park.” Jasper gestured out the window at one of the many billboards we’d passed. “You guys ever go?”

  “With my sisters. And school groups.” I wasn’t really much on field trips like that, but they already thought I was some sort of anti-fun prude, so I wasn’t about
to elaborate, instead adding a lame “It was all right.”

  “I’ve been once. On the way to freshman orientation, when my folks drove me out.” Conrad’s voice was distant. “This exit look good?”

  Even I could sense that he was wanting to change the topic. “Sure. I’ve still got muffins for us.”

  Because of course I did, Mimi and Mom having packaged them in ridiculous baskets amid more reminders of how to act that had had me gritting my teeth and hurrying out the door.

  “Good. I’m starving.” Jasper stretched in his seat as Conrad took the exit, following the signs that directed us to a truck-stop gas station—a large, low white building with red and blue details that was surrounded by dozens of idling trucks and cars packed with weekend tourists.

  Paying with cash for the gas turned out to be more complicated than a card purchase and necessitated two trips inside the store, but eventually we had a full tank of gas and were parked in the relative shade of a row of trees. A few picnic tables had been placed closer to one of the fast-food places sharing a parking lot, and we made our way there with the food. As I handed out the muffins and napkins, Jasper took some pictures for Professor Tuttle, mainly him and Conrad goofing off.

  “Man, your moms can cook,” Jasper said around a mouthful of muffin after a few minutes of quiet eating.

  “And healthy stuff. My mom does the oat-and-apple combo too.” Conrad sounded strangely wistful, same as he had earlier when the subject of his family had come up. I wasn’t sure how to respond, but before I could figure it out, he pushed away from the table. “I’m gonna go find the restroom and get a drink.”

  I thought about reminding him of the whole no-food-in-the-car rule, but he looked so determined that I kept my mouth shut.

  “I’ll drive the next part,” I said instead, trying to mimic some of Conrad’s easy confidence. I was done sitting in the back seat, and since Jasper seemed well installed in the passenger seat, driving was my only way out.

  “Okaaay.” Conrad drew the word out. “It’s pretty flat and easy until we hit Pittsburgh at least. Yeah, you can have a turn.”

  I wanted to tell him that he didn’t get to be the leader just because he’d driven first, but he was striding away before I could find my voice. A short while later, we were all back at the car, but instead of Jasper taking the passenger seat like I’d expected, he headed for the back seat.

  “You’ve got longer legs,” he said to Conrad. “And I wanna nap while Gramps here figures out how far under the speed limit he can get away with.”

  They both laughed as they climbed into the car, but I didn’t. True to his word, Jasper was asleep before we were even back on the highway. And yeah, I was creeping along. This…tank drove nothing like the sporty compact that was my only comparison, as both moms owned matching Prius hatchbacks. We’d always lived close enough to campus that a separate car for me hadn’t made sense. The gas pedal was too mushy, the steering too boxy, the shifter too sticky, and my already-galloping pulse didn’t like any of it.

  “Turning radius is weird, but you should be okay on the highway.” Conrad probably meant it as encouragement, but knowing he’d picked up on my discomfort only made me feel patronized, shame snaking up my spine. And frustratingly, he was right. The relative openness of the highway did help once I found an equilibrium for the accelerator.

  “You gonna freak if I browse the radio?” Conrad had a ridiculously big soda in his hand, one too big to fit in the cup holder.

  “No radio.” My jaw and neck were still final-exam tight.

  “Okay. You’re doing good.” The compassion in his voice made me want to crawl under the seat. I hated pity and false praise more than just about anything, and hearing it from Conrad—who was usually so dismissive of me—had the skin on my back prickling.

  “Don’t baby me.” I didn’t exactly snap, but the words were far from light and breezy.

  “I’m not. You really are doing fine.” This time, his praise hit a different place inside me—some place soft and vulnerable that desperately wanted to believe him…and not just about my driving.

  “Thanks.” Remarkably, some of the tension left my face. I didn’t quite manage a smile, but I wasn’t scowling either. Was this what it would be like if we were actually friends?

  Obsessing over that had me almost miss the brake lights of the semi in front of us as traffic slowed markedly.

  I braked hard, probably harder than I needed to, and Conrad’s soda sloshed, a frigid river of sticky fluid hitting my pants leg.

  “Watch it!” We both had identical angry tones.

  “You shouldn’t have brought a drink in the car.” The words came out before I could recall them, a literal knee-jerk reaction that I regretted almost as much as letting him distract me in the first place.

  “And you shouldn’t be driving if you can’t watch the road.”

  With that, we were back on familiar ground, moment of compassion quickly forgotten. It was so much easier to be mad at Conrad than to try to figure out how to deal with him being nice. In fact, as we continued to bicker, traffic crawling, I relaxed further, shoulders softening and hands no longer clenched on the wheel. Fighting with him was familiar. Reassuring even, with none of the awkwardness of those fake compliments.

  I knew perfectly well that we were never going to be friends, and there was little point in pretending otherwise.

  Chapter Nine

  Conrad

  I didn’t kill Alden. That needed to count for something. Even after hours and hours of his slow-as-hell plodding along in the truck lane. And his complaining about everything from traffic to my soda. Which to be fair, I let rankle me until I was debating stupid stuff with him, the two of us bickering our way through Pennsylvania. We finally changed drivers again outside Pittsburgh with a quick stop—gas, restrooms, some fast food, and back on the road.

  Now, it was probably safe to say that neither Alden nor I was particularly eager to see Jasper drive, not after his Mario Kart–level racing demo the day before. However, fair was fair, and I kept my reservations to myself. Alden, of course, had no such restraint, tossing around words like prudent and caution and best intentions while Jasper got us back on the road. I was still in the passenger seat since Alden didn’t want to sit where my sloshed soda had gone unfortunately sticky and gave me an exasperated look before climbing into the back. Finally, I’d had enough of his back-seat commentary, and I turned around.

  “Dude. I thought you were some wannabe doctor. Is law school the backup plan or what?”

  “No.” One word, but there was a world of condescension behind it.

  “Darn. The big-name law firms are probably all weeping over the loss of all your fine-print warnings.” I’d meant to get a laugh, make him see how ridiculous he was being, and maybe lighten him up a bit, but all he did was harrumph like a bear awakened too early from hibernation.

  “Come on, guys. How about you give it a rest?” Jasper sighed as if we were the most exhausting thing ever, and maybe we were. “And I’m calling it. Radio time. Conrad, you can be DJ. Do your worst with the dials.”

  “Fine. As long as it doesn’t distract you from driving, I guess we could listen to the news,” Alden allowed, which only ensured that I passed right by the NPR station.

  “Do you even listen to music, or is it all educational programming with you all the time?” I asked as I browsed the stations.

  “It depends. Music with lyrics can be distracting to me. I don’t dislike it, but sometimes it’s too…emotional, I guess.” It was more of a real answer than I’d expected from him, and I softened my tone before replying.

  “I guess I can see that. But music is supposed to make you feel. We’re human. Feeling is good. See?” I landed on a contemporary country station that reminded me of what we got on the radio back home. And as the singer romanticized his small town with dirt roads and old pickup trucks,
I almost had to agree with Alden. Sometimes the feelings were simply too much. Maybe news would have been easier.

  “My ears. They’re like literally bleeding. Something else,” Jasper demanded as the song changed to a twangy classic about killing cheating exes.

  “Many English professors agree that misuse of the word ‘literally’ is one of the worst things about our generation.”

  “Says the dude with a literal pole up his ass.” I gave Alden a dismissive hand wave before turning back around, finding Jasper an alternative station that lasted until we hit a stretch after crossing into Ohio where it was all rural and the only choices that weren’t crackly were country and AM radio. I made them suffer a sports radio station debating whether the Pittsburgh or Cleveland MLB team would have the better season before we were able to catch another alternative station. We reached our Sunday evening stop in the late afternoon, pulling into a small town on the outskirts of Columbus.

  Like Gracehaven, it had something of an old-fashioned downtown, a main street with a mix of empty buildings with For Sale signs and little businesses, most of which were closed since it was a Sunday. Jasper easily found us parking, which unlike most places around Gracehaven was free. The game store was located in what looked to be a former bank—a long, narrow brick building on a corner with a colorful logo on the door bragging about “unplugged fun.” Merchandise was organized in what had probably once been the bank lobby, with gaming tables set up behind the old teller stations, one of which had been left behind and repurposed as a register.

  The store had been warned that Gamer Grandpa wasn’t with us, and the owner, a short older dude who was Arthur’s exact opposite, greeted us with a fake-cheerful attitude that didn’t match his pointed questions.

  “Are you still filming a vlog?” he asked with a frown after the introductions had been made. “We were counting on the exposure.”

  “Yup.” Jasper held up the laptop bag, which also contained the camera. Alden and I each had our gaming bags, while I also carried some of Professor Tuttle’s signed books for the store.