Matteo

It’s entirely possible that my heart is about to burst right out of my body, land on the floor in front of me, and take off running. I’m not sure what I’m fidgeting to do more—adjust my glasses up my nose or press my hand to my chest to make sure my heart doesn’t break right through my ribcage. Not only can I feel it thumping inside of me, but I can hear the beating echoing in my ears, too. Normal humans can’t hear someone else’s heartbeat, right? Death is surely imminent, no? I take a quick glance at Milo to make sure he’s not able to hear the booming sound that seems to be getting louder and louder inside of me. I try to breathe, try to stay calm, but I can’t control my own body. From the feel and sound of it, I think I might be in the middle of an actual heart attack. Is it possible to have a heart attack at my age? Or is it more likely that this is just more than my usual dose of anxiety. Oh my god, I think I’m going to pass out.

The fact of the matter is that I have never been this bold with a crush before. Seriously, what was I thinking? Buying him that book? Agreeing to audition for the play? Helping him find out who his secret admirer is? I must be out of my mind. Usually I just stare at my crushes from afar, imagining what it must be like to talk to them—forget about being alone with them in their house! I’m the type to long for someone, to pine for them, not to actually interact with them. This is so not me.

Sure, my dating life hasn’t been all secret crushes. I dated Jessica Murray in middle school for a little while… Of course, she asked me out on a dare from one of her friends. We did some pretty fun kissing in the back of the bus on the field trip to the aquarium, but that’s about it. Other than hugging hello and goodbye, we rarely even touched. I couldn’t even hold hands with her because she didn’t like how sweaty my hands would get, being so freaking nervous around her all the time. Being with Jessica was a pretty informative experience for me, at least as far as dating girls was concerned, which only covered half of the population I was attracted to.

After Jessica, it was just one crush after another, a long list of people I was often too shy to even say hello to. There was Bettina my freshman year of high school, Jason in sophomore year, and then Tad in junior year…and then of course there was also Scott. But we don’t talk about Scott.

Each new school came with a new person to obsess over, and we moved at least once a year, if not more. It was always the same, I would fall madly in lust for someone within a week of arriving at the new school, but, with only a few expectations, that person wouldn’t even know my name by the time we moved again.

All of those moves were due to my mother’s job as a therapist with the military. Her job keeps her very busy and, fortunately for her, not so good for me, she is really good at her job, great even, which means she’s in high demand. It seems like every base in the world wants her to come work at their facility. I’m proud of my mom, and I know her work is important, but it led to a pretty sucky childhood so far. Being shuffled from school to school, never having time to make real friends and relationships was impossible. Maybe it was a little better when my dad was alive. He was like my best friend, the one person who was always there for me, night or day. My mom is wonderful, but she’s so busy, even more so with Dad gone. I just wish we could settle somewhere so I have time to actually make and keep some friends. You can’t climb the social ladder by attending two schools in one year.

My first week at Santa Cruz, I told my mother that I refused to move anywhere else until June. I actually picked a fight with her, screaming that if she tried to make me move, I’d run away, though we both know it was an empty threat. Where would I go? Still, I folded my arms over my chest and declared that I would be graduating from Santa Cruz High or else I would keep fidgeting forever and never get married or give her grandchildren. That seems to do the trick. Mom agreed we’d stay put for a little while.

By the time I finally get my heartbeat under control, I’m standing alone in the hallway, wondering what just happened. Where did Milo go? Did I space out for so long that he just left? Why am I like this? Why can I just be normal?

“Hey, you coming?” I hear Milo call from down the hall, and I follow the sound of his voice into the kitchen where he’s rummaging through the refrigerator and pulling out food.

I think about apologizing for spacing out, but I manage to stop myself. As far as I know, Milo didn’t even notice. Maybe he just happened to look up and he realized I didn’t follow him into the kitchen. No need to incriminate myself. Thankfully, Mr. Matchmaker doesn’t seem to have any idea that while he was looking for food, I was in the hallway, trying to talk myself down from a panic attack.

“I’m starving,” Milo says from the kitchen island. “I hope you don’t mind if I make some snacks.”

“Um, no, not at all,” I reply, trying not to trip over my own feet as I approach the counter.

“Good, because I’m making one of my specialties—nachos with chicken and jalapenos,” he says as he closes the refrigerator door.

“Yeah, that uh, that sounds good,” I reply with what I hope comes off as a casual nod while inside my head I am desperately trying not to fall even more in love with Milo than I already am. “But don’t go to any trouble for me.”

Milo glances up at me, tossing a sexy smile—just the slight tilt up of his lips—my way. I swallow hard and look up at the ceiling, trying not to declare my love for this man right here on the spot. I seriously never do these things.

Never have I left a secret gift for one of my crushes, certainly not a secret gift that’s based on a secret hobby that almost no one knows about. And the part about being a PI? I’ve certainly never done that before. Where the hell did that idea even come from? It just came out of my mouth like verbal diarrhea. Sure, I do need money for college, but I have no idea how to be a private investigator. I only thought of that idea since I’m currently binging Veronica Mars after finishing Gilmore Girls. If this whole deal blows up in my face, I’m blaming it on 2000s teen television for ruining me. I saw these women going after their men and declaring their love and I thought, Well, screw it! If Veronica can kiss Logan, then I can kiss Milo… Except the idea of actually kissing Milo terrifies me.

Moving with ease through the kitchen, Milo divides the nachos onto two plates and carries them around the counter, placing one in front of me as he takes a seat. A second later, he jumps up and rushes back to the fridge, pulling out two bottles of Mexican Coke. When he hands one to me, our fingers touch for a moment, but I’m too freaked out about the soda to even clock the contact.

“Um, how did you know I love Mexican Coke?” I ask with my eyebrows raised.

“I didn’t.” Milo laughs. “But I like it because it’s amazing and real. Only fake people like regular Coke or, god forbid, Diet Coke. This is how you know who is a real friend or not. Do you go for taste? Or do you go for the bubbles alone?”

I stare at him for a moment, feeling like I’m in my own teen drama. How am I here? How is this happening? And who talks like this? I feel like Rory and Lorelai trading quips in the kitchen as they take down a box of donuts and then go back for Pop-Tarts.

“Taste,” I reply with a decisive nod. “Definitely taste.”

“Exactly.” Milo grins, holding his bottle up to cheers me.

I tap my bottleneck to his as my heart starts to race again.

“To taste,” Milo says as he tilts his head back and takes a long sip of his Coke.

As we snack on the nachos, Milo takes out a notebook and pen and slides them across the counter to me.

“So, Mr. Private Dick,” he says with one raised eyebrow. “This admirer. Tell me—what’s the grand plan? What’s our first step? You do have a plan, don’t you?”