Izzy and the Right Answer Page 8

  “Ronnie.” Iz smiled.

  “Ronnie.” Rocco nodded. “He talked about you a lot, back then when we first met.”

  Iz considered this statement and all the shadows it cast, the way his heart still raced at the memory. “That was difficult.”

  “I suppose it was.” Rocco watched him, without a trace of a smile. “You probably have to deal with that a lot.”

  Iz shrugged. “I honestly don’t know,” he replied at last, and Rocco knit his eyebrows together in confusion. “Anyway, now Ronnie has other problems.”

  Rocco fell silent.

  The bass pounded for a few minutes, punctuated with swearing from the boys on the couch killing zombies.

  Iz wondered if Ronnie was having sex right at that moment. He wondered if Rocco was thinking that too.

  “Do you think you and I have more in common now?” he asked, looking up again. Rocco didn’t turn to look at him. He didn’t have to. Iz distantly thought Rocco had been watching him for a while. His fingers found Rocco’s elbow and inner arm, curling into his sweatshirt automatically. “Or are my ways not complementary to yours?”

  “Iz—” Rocco pushed out the name like he couldn’t catch his breath. A frown came and went from his forehead but his lips were parted. He shook his head the smallest bit and then looked down to Iz’s hands on his arm. “Iz, are you—?”

  “This party sucks!” Ronnie’s booming declaration made Iz flinch. Rocco yanked away. Ronnie shoved one of the three plastic cups he was holding at him, then pushed another one toward Iz. He touched his cup to Iz’s. “To it being more trouble than it’s worth,” he toasted, with a clunk of Rocco’s drink, before downing his shot. He gave Iz a grin that looked fake, even to Iz.

  Iz raised his cup to his lips and downed the shot of something clear that was not vodka, though the burn was similar. He coughed and wiped his mouth, grateful that he was with people who wouldn’t laugh.

  “You guys wanna go back to that other party?” Ronnie dragged a hand through his hair to straighten it. “It had a better vibe.”

  “If Iz does,” Rocco said quietly. “Since he didn’t want to be here in the first place.”

  “Oh shit.” Ronnie turned to Iz, apologies all over his face until Iz shook his head and smiled. “Let’s go then. Come on.”

  He hefted Iz over his shoulder and swept him out to the porch, only to stop dead when Iz grabbed a handful of his shirt and twisted it to get his attention.

  “Ronnie, I will vomit on you!” Iz warned, liquid sloshing in his stomach, skin hot from alcohol and how many people around them laughed. He was briefly grateful for the cold air. It was shocking but settling as Ronnie put him down and rearranged the ends of his scarf. He did that a lot. Iz had never identified a pattern to explain why. But he didn’t mind it. Ronnie could do his hair, or hold his hand, or fuss over his accessories if he wanted. Sometimes, it made Iz restless, as if there was supposed to be more to it, but most of the time it made him feel good.

  He let Ronnie calm himself through touch until he was satisfied, and kept his eyes closed while he regained his balance.

  Or didn’t. Iz took a step back and his heel slipped off the stair. Ronnie yanked him back up with a flurry of worried swearing.

  “Can you? Please?” Ronnie complained to someone before Iz could contemplate how bad that fall would have been. “I see what you mean now. Stumbly. And I’ve had too much.”

  Iz opened his eyes to look at Rocco in front of him, watching Iz as though he had no idea what to expect.

  “Will you allow it?” Rocco asked gravely. Maybe he was drunk too, or buzzed enough that Iz should say no and take his chances with the sidewalk.

  But Iz raised his arms and then Rocco’s were around him. He was naturally careful. He lifted Iz against him and kept one arm around his ribs and the other beneath his legs.

  Iz sighed in relief at not being upside-down, then dropped his head to Rocco’s chest. “I’d remind you that I can walk, but I did almost fall down the stairs.”

  “Ronnie’s getting you drunk,” Rocco’s words rumbled beneath Iz’s ear.

  “I didn’t force him,” Ronnie objected. “He is heartbroken and he asked. I’m an expert by now, see. But we can get him some water if he wants it. His choice. Right, Iz?”

  “Right.” Iz reached out and Ronnie took his hand for a few seconds, their fingers finally trailing apart when Ronnie stepped back.

  Someone hollered at them from across the street, a vague, shitfaced cheer. Iz waved blindly in return.

  “…Feel like the Creature in The Creature from the Black Lagoon,” Rocco muttered.

  Iz let his eyes drift shut. “If I can’t walk on my own, you can’t say things I don’t understand. Is that a movie?”

  “Toxic Avenger?” Rocco tried. “The Thing?”

  “I don’t get those references.” Iz tipped his head back and slowly opened his eyes. Rocco glanced down at him. “Creature, toxic, and thing are usually negative words. Is that important?”

  “I think it’s adorable!” Ronnie decreed from ahead of them. “We should get Izzy tipsy more often. We should all hang out together more often.”

  Iz shook his head, then nodded. Rocco grinned, just for a moment.

  They returned to the first party through the front door. The music was louder here now as well, and enough people were there that no one commented when Rocco walked in with a person in his arms.

  He put Iz down immediately anyway, probably tired. Iz grabbed his sleeve to stay stable, then let go. “Thank you,” he managed, though it was suddenly difficult to speak. They were all very close, and the air between them was warm.

  “I spy an English major,” Ronnie remarked after a few moments. “He’s cute. Iz. Iz. The one you—the one you like—is he an English major? They know poetry.”

  “Does he have to know poetry?”

  Iz couldn’t tell who Rocco was asking, but Ronnie answered. “Couldn’t hurt, with Iz. But really, none of that matters. It’s never about that stuff. Or that stuff all adds up together to make a person who makes you happy when they’re around and sad when they’re not. Which is stupid. It’s a fucked system. Okay, so our brains evolved this way to help raise babies together or whatever. It’s still dumb. I’m gay. I shouldn’t even need that.”

  “You love babies,” Iz told him, and Ronnie’s shoulders slumped. Iz took his hand in apology for speaking. “Do you want to do more shots?” He made his voice as gentle as Patricio’s. Ronnie looked him in the eye and nodded. “Okay then,” Iz promised soothingly, “we can do more shots with you.”

  “Yeeeeah.” Ronnie spun around to weave through the crowd, presumably in search of alcohol.

  Iz followed him for a few steps, then gave up and moved away from the door. He gravitated to walls and corners. Walls and corners made things easier. He chose a wall near the small hallway that led to the bedrooms, but he stayed clear of the line for the bathroom.

  Rocco was still with him.

  Iz smiled up at him. “Thank you,” he said again, and Rocco’s caterpillar eyebrows moved to show how puzzled he was.

  “What for?” he wondered, and Iz had no answer for him except that he was there. He smiled wider. “How much have you had tonight?” Rocco was concerned now, the caterpillars very fierce.

  “Did I weigh anything when you picked me up?” Iz didn’t know what song was playing, but the tone was dreamy. “I feel floaty and it’s not meds. You carried me. That’s something to think about. I should do that.”

  “Nope! No thinking!” Ronnie insisted. “Desire becomes despair in no time at all. And that, wonderful Izzy, is bullshit. Ano pang halaga ng gayong suyuan, kung ang sing—ibig ko'y sa katahimikan and all that. Bullshit.”

  “Oh my God,” Rocco’s hoarse voice was barely audible in the chaos around them.

  Ronnie didn’t seem to hear.

  “I need a drink.” He had a half-empty bottle of tequila in one hand and pieces of lime in the other. He handed those to Iz, then tri
umphantly pulled a salt shaker out of a pocket.

  Iz blinked. That was no place to keep a salt shaker. Then he connected the dots. “Tequila?”

  “They were doing body shots in the kitchen. Well, until they started making out.” Ronnie took a swig directly from the bottle and wheezed before he spoke again. “They didn’t need this anymore.”

  “Body shots?” Iz echoed. “Are you going to bother with those?”

  “You volunteering to let people lick booze out of your belly button, Iz?” Ronnie asked, playfully leering, then waved dismissively. “Nah. Not to make you uncomfortable. Rocco? You’ve got good abs. Come on. A drunken approximation of intimacy between bros?”

  “No more fraternity houses for you,” Iz whispered, then went silent, wide-eyed and unblinking when Rocco obligingly leaned down and Ronnie burst into shocked, delighted laughter before leaning in to lick a stripe up his neck.

  He spilled salt over the glistening trail he left behind. It fell down Rocco’s sweatshirt and into the folds of the hood. Some must have dropped to the carpet but Iz didn’t look. He raised his eyes and startled when Ronnie popped a piece of lime in Rocco’s mouth. They were both still laughing.

  Ronnie leaned in close to Rocco to lick the salt slowly from Rocco’s skin. Rocco shivered, then briefly shut his eyes.

  “I think—” Iz stopped because he didn’t think anything at all. His heart was beating fast in a way that, until this moment, he would have said was terror. But it wasn’t. He was hot, and Ronnie’s mouth was on Rocco’s, and only Ronnie was laughing now but it was desperate somehow, and Rocco was looking at Iz as Ronnie pulled away.

  “I’m hot,” Iz announced, the words hard to say. He tugged at his scarf, making it too tight, then tearing it loose to fall over his chest. He’d tilted his head to the side before he realized what he was asking for.

  “Oh,” Ronnie exhaled, nearly hiccupping. His cheeks were dark. “Oh,” he said again, and leaned in like always to press a sweet, thrilling kiss to Iz’s cheekbone. “I don’t want to unless you want to. You sure, Izzy Iz? You’re really sure? You don’t have to let me touch you.”

  Iz wrinkled his nose at him, impatient, then stiffened when Ronnie’s short whisper of his name sent warm breath over his neck. Ronnie’s tongue felt strange. Not bad, but different. A tremor went down Iz’s spine, like walking in from the cold. Iz put a hand out, holding onto Ronnie at the tickle of falling salt, and then giggled uncontrollably at the second lick.

  Ronnie didn’t seem mad at the laughter. He just said, “Ticklish Iz,” voice husky and low, and didn’t bother putting lime in Iz’s mouth to finish off his shot. He swallowed twice, tequila gleaming on his lips, then sucked the lime.

  Iz touched his mouth to mimic the kiss he’d expected and frowned for no reason he could think of, not that he could think of much. He shook his head, sending the remaining salt grains in all directions. Confused, he looked up. His chest was tight. “Well?”

  “Lightweight,” Ronnie teased, smiling and smiling at him. His eyes held too much.

  “Ronnie,” Iz complained, out of breath. A step had been skipped. He was owed.

  He tilted his head up, waiting, and Ronnie dropped his smile. He looked over to Rocco, a glance, and then his attention was intent on Iz as he held out a piece of lime.

  Iz took it delicately in his mouth and closed his eyes. Ronnie’s shirt was in his fist, Ronnie himself close by, warm and watching. That was very important. Rocco’s fingers brushed across Iz’s jaw, dipped down to touch his throat. Iz tipped his head back, tense and so extremely not tense that he didn’t understand how he could exist in two states at once. But Rocco said, “Izzy?” a concerned whisper that tingled over the wet patch Ronnie had left behind, so Izzy nodded.

  It was exactly what Ronnie had done, the same and different. Iz held on tighter to Ronnie and forgot to breathe. He shivered and kept his eyes shut through the second lick, and the wet sound of Rocco swallowing, and then a mouth was on his.

  The lime was sharp. Iz was overheated and restless, suddenly, so restless. His clothes were heavy, his blood pounding in his ears.

  Then Rocco moved. The cooler air made Iz open his eyes.

  Ronnie was staring, his cheeks flushed darker, his mouth open before he shut it.

  A tremor ran down Iz’s back again.

  He licked his lips, stinging with citrus and salt. Phantom pressure made them unfamiliar. He was turned on, and shuddered at the realization. His chest ached and skin was scalding. He was half-hard, and looked up to meet Rocco’s worried stare.

  He wanted, in a painful, physical way.

  He couldn’t let go of Ronnie, even though he thought he should. He couldn’t turn away either.

  “Oh.” Iz clutched Ronnie tighter when he felt himself shaking. The party noise was crashing laughter and booming bass tripping up his heart. “I was so wrong. Oh no.” He turned to Ronnie in horror. “I was so wrong.”

  “Iz?” Rocco started to pull away.

  Iz put his free hand to his lips, willing Ronnie to understand. “I’m sorry.”

  “Was that too much?” Ronnie wiped salt and spit from Iz’s skin as if he thought Iz wanted them gone.

  Iz grabbed him by the wrist with both hands to stop him, then looked back at Rocco. Not a single word came out of his mouth although he tried to speak. Rocco’s gaze was impossible. Ronnie’s pulse was rapid against his fingers and Iz didn’t know what to do with this information.

  “It’s just a drinking game,” Ronnie said reassuringly. “It’s no big deal.”

  Iz shut his mouth hard because he didn’t know if that was a lie or if he wanted it to be. He shook his head, swallowing as if that would help him speak. Rocco said his name again, inquisitive, potentially worried. Iz closed his eyes.

  “It’s loud in here.” Ronnie pulled Iz to him and ran a hand down his back. “It’s overwhelming, right? Let’s go someplace better. Maybe get some water.”

  The places he touched Iz were burning hot, but inside, Iz was cold. Fear, he was familiar with. Shame, not as much. But Rocco was right about it.

  Ronnie pulled him through the living room, around masses of voices and shuddering speakers and cigarette smoke to the kitchen. And then, when it was full of voices too, pushed open the sliding glass door to lead him outside. He left the door open behind them.

  Freezing air stung skin that was already raw. Iz raised his head and Ronnie studied him in concern while wrapping his scarf gently around his neck. In the light from the kitchen, Ronnie’s colors were muted.

  It did not make him any less beautiful.

  “Love is terrible,” Iz told him huskily, although he hadn’t been shouting. “It’s so easy to make a mistake.”

  Ronnie stopped, one second, not any longer, but then said, “Yeah,” with a bitter flash of a smile.

  Iz shook his head fiercely, because Ronnie didn’t understand. “You almost kissed me. You were supposed to kiss me.” Maybe he had been shouting. His ears were stuffed with cotton and his throat hurt. Ronnie’s eyes went wide and then he started to turn away. Iz grabbed him, trying to be gentle. “And then he did kiss me,” he went on, hands at Ronnie’s cheeks, still shaking. “But not really. It was a game and not real, but I lit up, Ronnie. I thought—I thought it was how I feel about him. I recognized it because of him. But now that I know it—what it is—it’s been here. For you.”

  “I can tell you mean whatever you’re trying to say.” Ronnie faced him but didn’t meet his eyes. “But I don’t make leaps like you. If you’re worried, don’t be. It’s not a big deal. You should be used to me. It’s not even anything.”

  Ronnie made less sense than Iz did.

  Iz lowered one hand to make a fist in Ronnie’s shirt, like before. “You almost kissed me,” he repeated, wishing his scattered thoughts would come together. “And he did kiss me. And it was there.”

  Patricio might have followed his meaning. Or maybe he would have been as shocked and witless as Iz was.

  Ronn
ie met his stare for one moment. “Okay,” he agreed before heaving a breath. “But what’s that got to do with love being terrible—shit.” He jerked back, unsteady but not falling, farther from the glow of the kitchen light. Then he smiled, a wide one that took up his whole face, but his gaze would not land on Iz. “It’s Rocco. He’s the one. Right?”

  “Not the only one,” Iz whispered, ashamed.

  “Fuck,” Rocco said from behind Iz, his voice rougher than Iz had ever heard it.

  He’d followed them out. Of course, he had. He must have been worried.

  Iz let his hands fall, then turned.

  Not a single thing showed on Rocco’s face. Nothing for Iz to examine later, though he would try anyway.

  “I’m sorry,” Iz began. The complete stillness in the air made him shiver. He’d made it worse somehow. He couldn’t think. “I wasn’t going to tell you. But it was so warm between you. I wasn’t expecting that. I’m sorry.”

  Rocco met his gaze and held it for one breath. Then he looked over Iz’s shoulder to Ronnie. “He’s had a lot,” still rough-voiced, but only just loud enough to be heard above the music. “You should make sure he gets home okay.”

  “What?” Ronnie asked softly in disbelief.

  “You’ll get him home?” Rocco requested again. His stare faltered. “And you too?”

  Iz didn’t see if Ronnie nodded, and didn’t hear an agreement, but Rocco turned without another word and made his way out through the kitchen.

  “He left,” Ronnie said, quiet and bewildered.

  “I’m sorry.” Iz dropped his head before turning around. The world spun with him. Ronnie caught him by the arm before Iz realized he’d tripped. “Ronnie, I’m sorry. I was wrong. I was so wrong. I was wrong then and now I’ve made it worse and you like someone else, and I like him too. I fucked up. I’m so sorry. If I were smarter—”

  “Bad thought, Iz.” Ronnie’s faint voice cut him off. “Breathe, okay?” His grip was firm but he felt far away. “You’re drunk.”

  Iz shook his head. “I am intoxicated but I’m not wrong now. I made a mistake. Ronnie—” He leaned forward, drawing Ronnie’s bright, warm eyes to him. “I didn’t know that the jump in my chest was because I liked you.” Ronnie’s hand tightened on Iz’s arm. Iz couldn’t stop. “You were a friend I didn’t know well when you almost kissed me the first time, and I was hot and my heart was racing, and I thought it was nerves. Then we were friends and I liked you. I liked seeing you and hearing from you and didn’t—I don’t think I wanted Rahim to have you. That’s why I didn’t—Ronnie, I’m not good like you. That’s not how it’s supposed to be. You’re supposed to know your own feelings and act on them if you can and be a better friend. I wasn’t even that. I thought… I thought you made me smile so much because that’s how friends are. It isn’t. Because there’s a tremor for you too and there isn’t for Patricio or Giselle or Alistair or Rahim. It’s you. You and him.” Saying it out loud made him flinch, although Ronnie still didn’t move. “I’m sorry.” Iz couldn’t say it enough. “I hurt you for no reason.”