Matteo

It takes more restraint than I’ve ever had to keep my hands stuffed into my pockets instead of pushing my glasses up my nose once again. I’ve already adjusted them two or three times since I came chasing Milo out of the school, calling his name and waving my arms in the air like a crazy person. I can usually feel if my glasses shift even a fraction of an inch and it drives me crazy—I’m unable to think about literally anything else until I push them back up. Sometimes they don’t have to slip at all. That’s the worst. Sometimes I press my finger against my glasses and they don’t even budge because they’re already up as far as they’ll go. That’s when I confirm what my mother has told me over and over again—that it’s just a nervous habit.

My mother is always telling me that I’m fidgeting too much and that fidgeting really isn’t an attractive quality. I can hear her voice in my head: Matteo, amor, how will you find love with a boy if you can’t stop reminding that boy of your ugly glasses? Whenever we get sucked into this same old conversation, I often have to remind my mother that she is the one who bought me these ugly glasses with the huge black frames that take up half of my face. Of course, if I bring this to her attention, she always points out in turn that I got my horrible vision from my father, may he rest in peace. She still loves the man deeply, but not enough to forgive him for my 20/60 vision.

With my hands still secure inside my pockets, I can’t help letting out an inaudible sigh as I stare expectantly at the hottest man alive, waiting to find out if he’s actually going to agree to hanging out with me more than he already has, under the guise of finding his secret admirer. I honestly have no idea how I went from placing that D&D book in Milo’s locker to auditioning—and landing—a role in the school play, a play I’m not sure I even like or want to be a part of. And because I seriously have no chill, I have now promised to help said hottest man alive to find his secret admirer. The plot twist? I’m the secret admirer who I promised to help find. Me. The same person for whom the aforementioned hottest man alive also wants to help find their perfect match. Ugh, what a mess.

I have to disagree with my mother on this one. Sadly, my most unattractive habit isn’t my fidgeting—it’s my stupid brain! If only I could stop myself from getting into these convoluted, ridiculous situations, maybe I could have actually started up a conversation with Milo and gotten to know him without having to star in the school play, uncover a secret admirer, and be matched up with someone other than one person I actually want to be with.

While all of this is rattling around in my stupid brain, Milo stares thoughtfully at me for a moment before nodding in approval.

“Okay, fine,” he says. “Why don’t we head to my place to brainstorm before we go to the concert tonight. That work?”

The fact of the matter is that I have a dentist appointment in about an hour, an appointment that was made six months in advance at my last appointment and will probably take an act of God to reschedule for any time in the next six months. And yet, there is no question that I have to cancel the appointment so I can attend this very crucial brainstorming session with Milo. Surely I can forgo one dentist appointment for something so much more important?

Technically my teeth are about as clean as they can get without professional grade equipment anyway. I take meticulous care of my teeth and gums, knowing how bacteria can fester if you don’t brush, floss, and rinse regularly. I do all of these things three times a day, carrying a spare dental hygiene kit to school with me. Oh my god, I’m as big of a nerd as Milo and Talia think I am. In any case, I don’t really need to go to the dentist today. The appointment can wait a few months.

“Yeah, sure.” I nod, trying to look interested but not too enthusiastic.

“Cool, I’ll drive.” Milo shrugs, casually lifting his backpack over his shoulder.

“Great, thanks.”

As I hurry to follow Milo to his car, I type out a quick message to my mother, lying and telling her that I got caught up with a school project. Could you please reschedule my appointment? I add, knowing that she’ll do it without question. I probably could have just told her the truth—that I’m hanging out with someone after school. She’d be so excited that I’m making new friends that she’d happily reschedule the dentist. Still, best not to press my luck.

I’m expecting Milo to drive something cool like a vintage Mercedes-Benz or a brand-new Jeep Wrangler, so I’m surprised when he leads me to a rusty old Ford F-150. I almost stop short in my tracks, having never thought of Milo as a truck sort of guy.

Milo turns around and raises an eyebrow at me, and it takes me a second to realize, in total horror, that I just spoke that thought aloud. Why am I so stupid? What is wrong with me? I’m about to apologize for making assumptions when Milo flashes me a thousand-watt smile, completely melting my heart and solidifying him not only as the hottest man currently alive, but the hottest man to ever have walked the planet Earth.

“I like that I can still be surprising to someone,” he says. “Everyone knows me at this school, so they don’t think, oh, Milo isn’t a truck guy. Most people already know that Mr. Matchmaker of Santa Cruz High uses his truck as his office.”

Milo glances over at me as I slide into the passenger seat of his truck and close the door behind me.

“I’m curious,” he says as he starts the ignition. “What sort of car did you think I would drive before you saw the truck?”

“I had a few other options in my head, but what I really think is that you seem like more of a Tesla kind of guy,” I blurt out without really thinking about what that means.

Milo laughs and nods his head, thankfully enjoying the image of himself behind the wheel of a Tesla.

“Well, I would love to be a Tesla sort of guy,” he says, turning around to back out of his parking spot. “Unfortunately, my bank account doesn’t allow for anything so extravagant.”

He puts the truck into drive and pulls through the parking lot toward the main road. As he drives, he rolls down the window and rests his elbow on the door as he pats the steering wheel with his other hand.

“This old girl was about all I could afford, so, a rusty old truck it is,” Milo says with a laugh.

Whereas Milo is all ease and self-control, I have to desperately fight my own inclinations not to fidget. I want so badly to touch my glasses that I end up tucking my hands under my legs, hoping Milo doesn’t notice or think that’s too weird as he drives us back to his place.

I’m still new to the area and getting my bearings around town, but at the light on the corner, when I expect Milo to make a left up the hill toward the rich side of town, he turns right instead. I turn to look over my shoulder, wondering if I have my directions wrong, but sure enough I can see the massive mansions that line the roads heading all the way up the hill. I sit back in my seat and look out the front windshield, surprised that Mr. Matchmaker, one of the most popular guys in school, is driving away from the rich part of town.

“Where do you live exactly?” I ask.

“On the east side of town,” he replies breezily. “In the valley. What about you?”

“I’m an east sider, too,” I reply, choking back a smile and wondering what else Milo and I might have in common.

Milo throws me a sympathetic grin, suggesting he’s not unaware of the class difference between the east siders in the valley and the kids who live up on the hill.

“So what kind of car do you drive, coming from the wrong side of the tracks at this school?” Milo asks.

“Car?” I laugh. “I take the bus.”

Milo nods knowingly, and I wonder if he was a bus kid before he scraped together enough money for the used Ford.

Milo parks on the street, and I follow him up the pathway to his house. As we walk inside, I can hear every sound and echo of our movements, and I realize that the house is empty.

“So, um,” I begin, turning to Milo, a little afraid of the answer, “where are your parents?”

Milo throws me a look over his shoulder, complete with a smile so sexy I nearly fall over.

“Oh, my parents are at work,” he says, stopping and turning to face me in the narrow hallway. “You’re not afraid to be alone with me, are you?”