I hate New West Fest. It’s overrun by college kids, and the stupid booths have overpriced kitschy crap that they are trying to sell. It doesn’t help that Ben has dragged me there early on a Saturday morning, when I could be sleeping in. And that he’s dragging me to booth after booth in an alternate reality version of my nightmare freshman orientation. At least Parker seems excited to be here. He’s already got a beer tent wristband, even though they won’t start serving before eleven.

I know that Craig is supposed to be working the Game Over booth, so my hope is that they are taking shifts and we will miss him. I made Ben promise to shield me as we walk past so I don’t have to worry about being seen.

“Why are we here again?”

“Because Parker has never been to New West Fest,” Ben says, which earns an excited “Truth!” from Parker. I swear since he’s been staying with us, he’s turned from tightly leashed Sunday school lapdog to reliving his frat days. With the exception that he cleans, pays rent, and is a surprisingly amazing cook. We’ve actually enjoyed him staying with us, and I think once his anti-Shelby rebellion is complete, he’ll settle down into a fun, but responsible, cousin.

“And because I haven’t gotten laid in forever and I want to ogle some man calves. And thighs, if they’re daring.”

Dear god, save me from Ben on the prowl. He’s had his nose in his phone since we started wandering the booths, and I swear if he is on Grindr I’m going to kick him out of his room and let Parker take it instead.

A few booths ahead of us, I see a bright red sign for Game Over and grab Ben’s arm so that he stays closer to my left side. “Cover me,” I hiss, and Parker stands to my left too. As we get close, we hear the feedback screech of a microphone and then a voice.

Ben and Parker have both stopped, so I have no choice but to stop too, although I pull them closer together and huddle behind them like a coward.

Near the table of the Game Over booth is a large amp, with a very off-key Craig standing on top, belting out “Can’t Take My Eyes off of You.”

Dear god, what is he doing?

His song is a reference to 10 Things I Hate About You, except he’s wrapped himself in a rainbow flag, which I know is his own personal reference to something else. He’s not looking at me, but instead at the crowd of people who have surrounded him and the Game Over table. Good. He’d better not look at me. If this is some lame-ass attempt to apologize, or get me back, then he can stuff it. Radio silence for weeks, and embarrassing the fuck out of me in public is his answer? No.

Two people walk through the crowd passing out buttons as he sings. I recognize his friend Victoria and the red-haired guy from the other night at the pub.

He ends the song – thankfully for everyone’s ears – after the first verse, and begins speaking.

“There’s someone here right now that I owe an apology to. I’m not going to point him out, because the last thing in the world I want to do is embarrass him.”

So that’s why he wasn’t looking at me while he was singing. At least he’s right about that.

“I have feelings for this person, but I screwed up.”

The crowd “aws” in sympathy, but he waves it away, and I’m glad. He doesn’t deserve those “aws,” my brain says. Unfortunately, the flutter in my chest isn’t listening.

“I haven’t told you a lot about my past,” Craig continues, no longer addressing the crowd at large, but still not looking at me. My throat gets tight and I want to leave, but I can’t when my personal shields are still planted and unmoving in front of me. Traitors. “I hope to change that, if you’ll let me, but it’s why I’m always so quick to run. It’s not an excuse. But I realize now that I owe you not only an apology but an explanation. I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you’re willing, I’d like to talk to you. I’ll be at the place where I bugged out on you. Eleven o’clock. I really hope you’ll be there. But if not, I just want to say one last time that I’m sorry.”

A button is pressed into my palm and I reflexively grab it without noticing if it was Victoria or the guy who put it there. The crowd is dispersing now that Craig’s little show is over, and both Ben and Parker are staring at me, waiting to see my reaction. Craig disappears into the Game Over tent. For once I don’t run. Just turn and continue our stroll through the booths as if nothing unusual just happened.

We reach the end of this row of tents and turn to the next one.

“Say something,” Ben finally says, shaking my shoulder.

“What are you going to do?” Parker asks. “He didn’t even tell you where to meet.”

“Yes, he did.” I pause and flip over the button to read it for the first time. It reads “Tell Me It’s Not Game Over.” I roll my eyes just to keep from crying.

* * *

I enter Suzushi’s at eleven sharp, and am promptly ushered to a table in the back. Craig is waiting and when I sit, he hands me a rose.

“I feel sort of silly doing this. I’ve never given a guy flowers before. But you’re worth feeling silly for, so I just wanted you to know.” He rubs at the back of his neck. “I can’t believe you came.”

I thought Craig was so confident and sexy, and he hid his flaws so well, that I think I fell in love with a slightly idealized version of the man. But looking at him now, the clamp that was holding my heart back and not letting me get my hopes up drops away completely. Oh, I’m definitely getting an explanation, but god damn it this man is mine, sappy insecure shit and all.

He can’t let himself look at me for long. He fidgets with his menu and then the glass of water.

“You really can’t sing,” I say, just as he takes a sip and chokes on it.

“I’m so sorry.” I reach across and pound on his back until he swats me away.

Craig takes a deep breath, then laces his fingers together and places them in his lap.

“Zach, I know I fucked up. You’re so amazing, and being there with your family that weekend just reminded me that, well, I’m not. And with all the crap they were giving you, I just thought if you had a boyfriend who was professional and smart and someone they respected, then you wouldn’t have to try so hard to get along with them. It would make your life so much easier.”

My mouth drops open, but before I can even begin to tell him how ridiculous that is, he stops me. “Please, just let me get through this.”

I shut my mouth and let him, even if I really want to share my revelation that we both have these idealized versions of each other that we really need to drop.

“I realize now that was stupid,” he continues. “I should have told you about my family, or lack thereof, growing up. You’re so smart, if you had only known, I’m sure you would have seen all my freak-outs coming a mile away. Or I could have at least talked to you about my insecurities, instead of making these unilateral decisions that I thought were best for you.”

He finally takes a breath and looks at me, and I feel like his heart is in that look.

“What changed?” I ask, because I really want to know what made him come to his senses.

“Kieran made-”

“Kieran?”

“He’s one of my gaming friends. The redheaded guy you saw me with the other night. We’re just friends. But he’s the one who made me see that it wasn’t you or even your parents who didn’t think I was good enough for you. It was only me. That I needed to learn to accept myself.”

I blink back tears at the idea that Craig would ever feel so unlovable. That I was so afraid of embarrassing myself that I didn’t let Craig know he was loved. I reach across the table, palm up, and waggle my fingers until he places a hand in mine. I clasp it so damn hard, I probably break his fingers, but I don’t want to let go.

“If I ever let you think for a second that you weren’t worthy of me, I’m sorry. You are an amazing man who inspires me to be myself and to love myself, quirkiness and all. You are kind and generous and adventurous, and absolutely fucking beautiful inside and out, even when you’re scared shitless or embarrassing yourself for the sake of others. And although you can’t sing, neither can I, so we’re all good there.”

Craig laughs through his sniffles and I catch a tear that escapes to roll down his cheek.

“I love you, Zach. Can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, except for making me get all mushy and emotional before we even get our miso soup.”

He huffs out another gentle laugh but still looks tentative, and I realize I may have been thinking it, but I haven’t said it out loud yet. So I do.

“I love you too. And I miss you. So fucking much.”

Our soup finally arrives, but we keep one set of hands linked. We turn in our sushi menu and I order crickets, making Craig cry with laughter. The conversation sobers once Craig gets talking about his family. He never knew his father, and his mother was a drunk and druggie who left him to fend for himself at a young age. When he tells me the story, he acts as though the fact that he couldn’t go to college was the worst result of their actions, but it’s obviously the root of all of his insecurities and fears over being unworthy and unlovable. And I’m determined to make sure Craig never feels that way again.

Our sushi arrives and we finally separate, but Craig continues to share. He tells me about getting accepted to Front Range Community College and Ted’s job offer.

“I’m going to take Ted up on his offer.” He eyes me as he says it, still wary of my acceptance. Still unsure of his choices.

“I think Ted is a much better businessman than I gave him credit for, to see all of your potential and reward you for it. School isn’t for everyone. Just because I’m wired that way doesn’t mean it’s a good choice for you. You love Game Over. And you’re going to be a brilliant manager. I’m so proud of you.”

Craig’s the one blushing this time, but he deserves it.

“You and I both need to push each other off our pedestals, you know?” I say, but he doesn’t look like he gets me. “You think I’m this genius, and I might be book smart, but I have the social awareness of an android. And it’s your social skills that tricked me into thinking you had it all figured out.”

“It?”

“You know, life and shit.”

Craig laughs. “Ha. No. Really not at all.”

“Right. So, you know. We’re human. And I’m finding I like that about you.”

Craig smiles at that until the waitress brings over one final dish, and I break out into an enormous grin as the bowl of crickets is set on the table.

Craig tries to mask his look of horror, but it doesn’t work. His voice sounds forced as he asks, “So … was that Parker I saw you with today?”

“You’re stalling,” I say with a laugh as he gives the crickets the side-eye. “But yes, that was Parker. It’s sort of a long story, but he and Shelby are divorcing and he’s staying on our couch temporarily.”

“Wow, so you two are getting along now?”

“He’s not so bad away from Shelby and my family. He realized, through the whole ordeal, what a bitch she is.”

He’s still not trying the crickets and I’m positive he thinks he’s been successful at avoiding them. I tap my finger against my mouth, internally cheering as Craig gets distracted by my lips. “Hmm. Maybe I need to give you some incentive.” I lick my lips and the tip of my finger, and Craig lets out a soft whine.

“Incentive for what?” he squeaks.

“For my boyfriend to eat a damn cricket.”

Craig puts his hand back across the table and twines our fingers together.

“Say it again.”

“Boyfriend?”

“No, cricket. The word, it gets me hot.” Craig fake-pants out his words.

I laugh and pull my hand away. “Asshole.”

“But I’m your asshole.”

“Mmmm.” I pick his hand back up and kiss his fingertip. “That you are. All mine. And now that I know what makes you run, I’m never letting you get away again.”

And for that, Craig pops a damn cricket in his mouth.