How To Get a Boyfriend 101

15 : Sunday

Step Fifteen: Hold a conversation! Don't dominate... boys like when you let them talk about themselves! Listen to what he says, and try to remember it! If he mentions the birthday of his dog or cat or sibling, take note of it. If he recently won a competition, ask him about it!

"Holy guacamole," I say to my plushie, Mason. "This book is just—ugh. I've already been doing this one. Like, what? That's what it's been encouraging me to do the whole time. Mason, I don't know how long I can carry this out. How much time? Jason doesn't like me as anything more than a friend, right? It's not worth it."

Mason stares at me with black holes for eyes. A great listener, I know.

"And you know what's more? I've gotten to the point where I've started ignoring Blake's life. I have no idea what's he's doing! Sure, I hang out with him, but I don't even know what's going on between him and Russell. Are they dating? They hit a major roadblock recently, Jason—I mean, uh, Mason—but I haven't heard anything else from them."

Mason just watches me, silently judging. Definitely not a good listener; he's an owl, so he doesn't even have visible ears. I lamely squish his cheeks and flop back onto my bed. I have an essay due tomorrow, and I haven't even started. I'm about to open my laptop to start when I get a text from Russell.

~~~~~

Russell:
Can I talk to you?
It's important

Felix:
Uh
Yeah sure

Russell:
Okay I'll be at your room in 5

Felix:
See you then

~~~~~

I sigh, knowing that my essay will be a problem for Future Felix to deal with. Oh, well. Current Felix only has to get ready to be presentable for when Russell comes to his room.

Ew, thinking about myself in third person.

That's gross.

...Let's do it again.

Felix rolls out of bed, tucking Mason back under the blanket. He puts on a pair of sweatpants that's cleaner than the one he was just wearing and puts a hoodie on over his t-shirt. Grabbing a stool, Felix makes his way into his miniature pantry in his tiny kitchenette—less commonly but more accurately known as Chip Land. His pantry, in actuality, is a tall, thin shelf he assembled in a woodworking elective course. It's more scratched than Felix would like to admit, especially because he had to cut part of it off to fit it into the awkward measurements of his kitchenette. Gosh, he thinks. Who designed this place? That is one funky spot of architecture, but it's still pretty cool that Misty Bay offers us kitchenettes—even if they're not of the highest standards.

Maybe Felix just oriented the shelf wrong. It could've been meant for horizontal spaces, or something else illogical like that.

Even if I date Jason, Felix thinks, I'll still be the one reaching for high things. After all, one-eighth of an inch makes all the difference. He sighs but doesn't dwell on the 'if.' The possibly of that possibility possibly happening is just another possible possibility that could possibly happen, and Felix's brain can't possibly keep up with all those possibly possible possibilities.

Felix waddles over to his bed, chips and a bowl in his arms. When he sets everything down, Felix breathes a sigh of relief. He opens the nearest bag and starts snacking on the chips.

True to his word, Russell arrives soon after. Felix gets up to greet him and stubs his toe against the table, then, wincing, makes his way over to the door. Felix lets him in, and they sit next to the bowl of chips.

"Felix," Russell begins. "This is something kind of private, okay?"

Felix nods empathetically, understanding. Also, Felix—

No.

I can't think of myself in the third person, that's just... no. Especially when Russell is about to tell me something personal.

"Yeah," I say. "You can trust me to keep a secret, Russell." He takes a deep breath, readying himself.

"I think I'm in like with Blake. Not in like with him, but, like, like like. Y'know?"

I blink. In my head, there's a disco party. On my face, there are two eyes, a nose, and a mouth, none of which betray my inner disco dance. Huzzah, huzzah, huzzah, huzzah, huzzah, my inner disco-radio blasts. I politely gesture for Russell to continue.

"I don't know when it really started, but I think Blake is taking my avoiding him the wrong way. I'm just trying to give him some space. What happened in the cafeteria a couple days ago was not cool at all, and he needs to own up to it and make up for it." Russell purses his lips and waits for my reaction.

I nod, hyper-aware of the fact that I'm walking on thin ice here. On one hand, I want to be loyal to Blake and defend him... but I know that he really, really, really screwed up in the cafeteria. He did not have the right to out Russell like that, and it was offending for everyone present. "Have you guys figured it out yet?"

"It's a process. We're working on it. That's part of being friends—we have to find a way through this."

I blink, taking inventory of the situation. They kissed, and then Blake betrayed Russell's trust, and then they aren't friends, and then they are friends, and then Blake has liked Russell for years, and then they're friends, but now Russell likes Blake? These two have got to make up their minds. This is confusing and terrifying me.

"Russell," I begin. "Look, Blake and I don't usually talk about feelings and stuff. I mean, of course we do, but I can't go around sharing the things he's said." I recalibrate and try to take a different approach that would benefit them both. "Go for it, man, if you feel like you're in a good place to do so. Shoot your shot. Once you and Blake have regained your comfortable ground with each other, I mean. If you like him, I say you should do something about it."

Russell and I stare at each other for a solid twenty-six seconds.

"Uh, yeah." Russell remarks very thoughtfully. "Thanks."