Every Day (Every Day 1)

I have no idea if Hugo loves him or not. If I tried, I’m sure I could access moments when he loved him and moments when he didn’t. But I can’t answer the question and be sure I’m being truthful. I’m caught.

“My feelings haven’t changed,” I say. “I’m just a little off today. It has nothing to do with you.”

Austin laughs. “Our anniversary has nothing to do with me?”

“That’s not what I said. I mean my mood.”

Now Austin is shaking his head.

“I can’t do this, Hugo. You know I can’t do this.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” I ask, genuine fear in my voice. I can’t believe I’m doing this to both of them.

Austin hears the fear, looks at me and maybe sees something worth keeping.

“This isn’t the way I want today to go,” he says. “But I have to believe that it isn’t the way you want it to go, either.”

I can’t imagine that Hugo was planning to break up with Austin today. And if he was, he can always do it tomorrow.

“Come here,” I say. Austin moves in to me and I lean into his shoulder. We sit like that for a moment, looking at the ships on the bay. I take his hand. When I turn to look at him, he’s blinking back tears.

This time when I kiss him, I know there’s something in it. When he feels it, it may come across as love. It is my thanks to him for not ending it. It is my thanks to him for giving it at least one day more.

We stay out until late, and I am a good boyfriend the whole time. Eventually I lose myself a little in his life, dancing along with Austin, William, Nicolas, and a few hundred other gays and lesbians when the parade organizers blast the Village People’s “In the Navy.”

&n

bsp; I keep looking for Rhiannon, but only when Austin is distracted. And, at a certain point, I give up.

When I get home, there’s an email from her:

A,

Sorry I couldn’t make it to Annapolis—there were some things I had to do.

Maybe tomorrow?

R

I wonder what the “things I had to do” were. I have to assume they involve Justin, because otherwise, wouldn’t she have told me what they were?

I’m pondering this when Austin texts me to say he ended up having a great day. I text him back and say I had a great day, too. I can only hope that’s the way Hugo remembers it, because now Austin has proof if he denies it.

Hugo’s mother comes in and says something to me in Portuguese. I only get about half of it.

“I’m tired,” I tell her in English. “I think it’s time for bed.”

I don’t think I’ve addressed her questions, but she just shakes her head—I am a typical, unforthcoming teenager—and heads back to her room.

Before I go to sleep, I decide to see if Nathan has written me back.

He has.

Two words.

Prove it.

Day 6007