25 : Wednesday

Step Twenty Five: Be outgoing! You need to be prepared to talk to him in any situation, around any people. Be ready for any conversation, and don't be shy! And SMILE. This cannot be stressed enough. Any performance, ever, requires a smile. So put those pearly whites on display and get yourself a man!

Pants are on? Yes.

Last night, Jason and I spent hours cuddling while watching movies and eating popcorn. The most exciting thing that happened was him falling asleep before I did, because I had to carry him back to his bed. I collapsed immediately after setting him down.

I really should stop glancing at the steps every morning, but old habits die hard. I've got the boyfriend... but I need to keep him. Not that I doubt his loyalty. I suppose it's just my inner Balthasar, telling me that Juliet is dead even though she isn't.

No. Someone get this copy of Romeo and Juliet away from me; the Shakespearean stuff is taking over my brain. The story is great, but I don't want to end up like Romeo and Juliet. Felix and Jason's end shan't be the same.

I lay my hand on his cheek, unsure if he's awake or not. His skin is soft and smooth, and I have to very consciously resist the urge to place a kiss there instead of the palm of my hand. He's so warm, so pretty in the sunlight-through-the-curtains lighting. I smile, unable to help it.

"Lixie?" he mumbles, cracking his eyes open. "Mmmmmmorning."

"Good morning, Jason."

Somehow, Jason manages to drag himself out of bed. I discreetly avert my eyes, and he turns around to wait for me, too. We decide on cereal for breakfast, because pancakes would probably cause me to throw up on stage.

Yeah, today is the talent show. I want to scream, and shout, and, like, do jumping jacks, or something. My nerves are buzzing, my hair standing on edge. My hand shakes when I start pouring the cereal, and my brain goes into hyperactivity as I notice something. "Jason, didn't you say that you put milk in before cereal?"

"Hmm?" Jason glances down at his bowl, into which he's already poured the dry stuff and is about to pour the milk. "Oh, yeah, I lied, so that the conversation with you would continue."

I blush. "Aww, that's sweet. But you didn't have to lie..."

"I didn't know that at the time," he cuts in, ears red. "Plus, your reaction was priceless. The way you tried to contain yourself, even after your outburst? Cute."

The way he says 'cute' warms my heart. Jason's whole being, in essence, simply causes my heart to go all over the place. "Shut up." My words do not reflect my feelings, actually. If I had it my way, Jason could compliment me all day.

"Never."

We finish our meal and get ready for a day off of school. Jason gets to come as my plus-one. Also, Blake said he wasn't available, and I don't have any family members that live close enough to be invited.

"Question," I begin, putting my hand over Jason's as we sway, side-to-side. "Do you know where we get off?" We're on a bus, on our way to wherever the talent show is going to be tonight. "Because I don't know, and, if you don't know, then we're just vibing here for no reason."

"I don't know, either," Jason admits.

"Is there a map?"

"Is there?" Jason smirks at me after the sassy remark. "The Internet is accessible for a reason, Felix. Look it up."

"Sigh," I say, pulling my phone out. "Okay, so, we should have gotten off eight stops ago. But that's okay; we'll reach the stage in another hour-or-so. And we still won't be late, since you insisted on that awful 'buffer time,' making us wake up early."

"But it worked out in the end."

I grin at Jason. "Yeah, you balance me out. Even if it involves the morning. And being awake during the morning, horrible though the prospect is."

Jason gives me a brief kiss on the cheek before releasing a long breath. "Lixie," he mumbles, adjusting his grip on the metal pole, "I'm nervous for you. You learned the whole routine in one day, and that's no mean feat. Are you sure you're good with this?"

"Yeah, it's good. Worst-case scenario: I don't win any recognition, or whatever. Best case? It works out, just like this butter time."

"Butter," Jason deadpans, his body slumping. "Butter, Felix? Butter time?"

"Buffer," I correct myself, catching myself before I sigh. "Buffer, Jason. Buffer time."

~~~~~~~~

I never fathomed orange and silver looking good together, but here Blake and Russell are.

"So, you actually went through with this?" Blake says, nervously chuckling. "How's the b-o-y-f-r-i-e-n-d? Did he help?"

"Yeah, we did the whole thing over the course of a few hours, yesterday."

Russell bites his lower lip and nods. "Blake and I have been working on our thing for just a few days, too."

"Cool."

The fact that they're here should surprise me more than it does, honestly. Of course Blake and Russell have entered the talent show together. Why on Earth wouldn't they?

I have no idea what they're doing; they have no idea what I'm doing.

It's silver and orange versus me, and I'm not really sure how to feel about these odds. Their heads, put together, remotely resemble some sort of ice cream pop. I can practically taste the odd flavor.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and everything in between and beyond, please turn off your cell phones, and enjoy the performance. Welcome to our Twentieth Annual Showcase of Misty Bay Academy Talent! We have fifteen acts, ranging from a one-person-performance to groups of up to twenty-three. For our first show of talent, please clap it up for our largest group of the night! They will be singing, rapping, and dancing to a song written by them.' Enjoy!"

I hear a large group of boys shuffle to the curtain, ready to flow out and onto the stage. One of their youngest members, a boy I know, grins at me as he leaves. I give him a thumbs up, mouthing 'good luck.'

"Cozying up to the competition, huh? I see how it is," Blake says, evilly grinning at me. I shush him with a vague gesture as the lights dim and their performance starts. It, like the many after it, is spectacular. They've obviously spent greater than three hours on it, countless weeks of hard work as opposed to a few moments of cramming.

"For our thirteenth and third-to-last act, please welcome Felix Gray, who will be going solo! He is going to perform a song-and-dance cover of... some song, by some guy, but it's very evasive. I don't think he told us what he'd be performing, actually. Felix, hit the stage."

I peer out at the crowd from behind the curtain. It takes mere moments to spot Jason, seated next to a fashionably dressed woman who can only be his mother. She's very... um...

Fashion-forward...

I miss the first cue. Goddamn it, Jason's mom! Rushing onto the stage without turning bright red is no mean feat, and I nearly fail. A blush creeps up my neck as I sing the first words, then the world grows hazy around me. When I'm performing, I go into my own world. Nothing can break me out, not even Jason's mom's green top hat and red blazer. I guess she is still in a Christmas mood, despite it being February.

My heart goes into sync with the music, beating in time to my voice, my movements, and the instrumental that I pirated from some website online. Not to worry—Jason swore on the late Pink Turtleneck that he wouldn't let the government know. My limbs tremble with tense power as I glide across the stage, locking my bones in place when necessary. My voice comes out of the speakers, clear and strong.

As the song comes to a close, I vocalize the last "ooh"s and "ahh"s and lament the lack of background dancers. The stage feels empty; I usually perform with someone by my side. I was once part of a dance club. My talents do not come from nowhere; they're not pulled out of the blue. Now I have no crew around me.

But I'm not alone. Before I let my eyes flutter shut for dramatic effect, as the last notes of the song fade into almost deafening silence, I see Jason and his mother. I know Russell and Blake are behind me, watching. And my parents, hopefully, are tuning in from Australia.

The lights dim, and I scurry off the stage. Russell is slack-jawed, looking as if someone drove a bus over one of his cats. Or two of them. Or more... I don't know how many cats the guy has. If I had to guess, I'd probably go with around fifty. Russell seems like a cat guy. He once told me about the first time Jason was over at his house, when he used to have identical cat twins. They're not around anymore, but the story was funny. Jason was confused by the two identical cats and asked Russell about them, and Russell said he did only have one cat that looked like it—but it moved really quickly. That freaked Jason out.

But I, very seriously, digress.

Wow, what a tangent.

"Hey, man, I really need to stop helping you out. First, I call Jason for you, then I sign you up for this? And both things turned out spectacularly. I'm, like, your guardian angel, or something," Blake jokes, patting my back as he pulls me in for a hug.

"Thanks, Blake. Good luck, you two." They go onto the stage as I grab a bottle of water and thank the contestants who congratulate me on a job well done.

Blake and Russell's performance is spectacular, a crazy display of acrobatics and rapping and singing and socks and dancing and contortion and how the quack is Russell so flexible and—oh my goodness—woah they're going to get first place and they're going to deserve it.

Maybe Blake signed me up for the sole purpose of knowing he'd be able to hold his gold medal over my head. For the rest of our lives, probably.

After Blake and Russell are done and well-enough rested, and after we all compliment one another properly, we're called out onto the stage.

"Well, ladies, gents, anyone in between or beyond, and the rats in the vents... what did you think of the show?" The one and only Tucker Jackson, our host and MC, beams at the booming applause. "Me too, honestly. Some of these acts were simply mind-blowing! The judges have discussed and picked their top four acts; three will receive medals, the fourth an honorable mention, and everyone else gets a participation award and an invitation to our after-party next week!"

He clears his throat, looking back at the fifteen acts. There's the huge one—the one with twenty-two members—which takes up half the stage, a few soloists and me, Blake, Russell, and a bunch of other people I don't really know and don't really care to learn more about.

Tucker winks at the audience, already preparing a joke. "Can we get a drumroll, please, for our honorable mention?" The crowd gives him a hand-against-leg... roll... since they don't have drums. "Oliver Patel, and his fantastic drum solo! Congratulations, Oliver."

The cashier who sold me How to Get a Boyfriend 101 walks to the center of the stage and shakes Tucker's hand. I blink. Who knew that someone with such a disapproving demeanor could be so good at playing the drums? Although, it could also make sense. I'll have to remember to let him know that my little sister thoroughly enjoyed the book.

"For our third-place act, our bronze medalist, we have six girls who put on a spectacular show. Please welcome The Wannabes!" The girls take their medals, beaming.

Tucker glances back at the remaining thirteen acts. "For our silver medalist, or medalists," he's quick to correct, "I'd like everyone to slowly clap their hands above their heads. Felix Gray, come on up here!"

I didn't win first place. That's okay; Russell and Blake will probably get it, and they'll deserve it. I'm honestly ecstatic that my three hours of intense work paid off. This is where procrastination got me, and I'm not complaining. I've learned my lesson, and learned it well. The best way to success is procrastination. Can't wait to list that one as my senior yearbook quote, if I can remember it.

"Thank you," I say into the microphone after my feet carry me to Tucker, looking pointedly at where I know Jason is sitting. I can tell, because his mom's hat is a shining beacon. "This means a lot."

I step back, toying with the medal Tucker loops around my neck. It's simple, but I know I'll cherish it. I watch as Tucker announces the obvious winners. A speech is expected from Russell, Blake, or both of them.

Russell is very quick to grab the microphone. "So, uh, saying this in front of a lot of cameras probably isn't the best idea. Mom, Dad, if you're watching from the living room, hi. Thanks for not bothering to show up." He laughs, though it sounds more like choking, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, Blake and I worked really hard on this. Really hard. And... over the course of that hard work, I came to realize a few things."

Blake, his eyes wide, turns to me in a panic. 'What the quack?' he mouths. I only suppress a smile, thinking that Russell has some real guts. Or no guts at all, since he doesn't look sick yet.

"Like, Blake is good at anything he sets his mind to. I mean, you all saw the performance. He pretty much—no, entirely—wrote the track, the lyrics, and he dragged me out to practice the choreography during every spare moment he could find."

Russell shakes his head, giggling. Giggling. He's so whipped; it's kind of hard to watch. But it's like a train wreck. I can't look away. I want to see when he'll crack and throw up. There's no way he's making it through this with his lunch still inside of him.

"I'm just really trying to stall what's next, because I'm so nervous. So afraid. I'm scared that Blake won't return the feelings I have for him, even though I'm nearly certain he does. Because, Blake, I really, really, really want to go out on a date with you. No no homo, bro." The audience collectively gasps, a few ex-girlfriends of both of them going as far as to flinch in shock. I see someone slowly lower a BTFC sign—or maybe I'm just imagining it. Either way, that's a bit cuckoo.

And still, through all of it, Russell's face remains not-green.

A wonder in of itself.

Blake's jaw drops as he sputters. "Russell... I really, really, really want to go out on a date with you, too. And I've been waiting a pretty darn long time for you to realize that."

I catch Jason's eye, sharing a secret smile with him from across the room. Were we that obvious?

Blake crosses the stage in a few short, excited steps, leaping up to kiss Russell on the lips. They vibe there, gay as can be, PDA'ing right in front of everyone's salads (though no food nor drink is allowed in the auditorium, but they all have salad in their stomachs anyway—especially Russell, who's managed to somehow keep his from exiting his body from the wrong side).

And I couldn't be any happier for them, cliché as Russell's method of confession was.

~~~~~~~~

"Lixie, you are insane. I didn't think I could like you anymore than I already did, but you proved me wrong. The dancing. The singing. The stage presence. You're really something else, Felix."

I blush as Jason continues rambling. "Jason," I interrupt, gently cutting him off, "thank you. I really appreciate it."

"Of course." Jason wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer to him. As I turn my head so as not to stab his shoulder with my nose, and that very same nose brushes against his.

Just a few centimeters away from my first kiss with Jason.

"I'm really proud of you," he whispers, leaning just the slightest bit forward to bridge the gap.

Fireworks explode in my chest, sending waves of heat to every part of my body. My nerves stand on edge, noting every detail of Jason's only-slightly-chapped lips. It isn't a deep kiss—not in the slightest—but its meaning goes beyond which base it reaches. I come away from it with a hint of mint toothpaste on my lips, and I just can't stop smiling.

It's also not a fairy-tale kiss, and it's nowhere near the perfect kisses I've read about on pirated sites (but, once again, not to worry—Blake swore on his collection of oddly scented perfumes, now in Zoe's care, that he wouldn't let the government know). The quick peck, as it's probably better described, is magical nonetheless, and I couldn't feel more proud of... of everything. How far I've come with my interest in a guy out of my league, not even knowing if he is gay or not, just following my heart. After he pulls away first, I crush him in another hug.

And another hug.

And, yet again, another one.

All the way home, I can't seem to pry myself off of Jason's side. I say a few words to his mother after he introduces me as his boyfriend, while secretly holding onto the back of Jason's jacket. Seems like a nice lady. Well, aside from her avant-garde choices in the realm of clothing. But hey, bad clothes are better than no clothes, when it comes to my boyfriend's mom.

That is one thing straight girls and I have in common.

At least, I should hope so...

"Lix, aren't you tired? I'll—"

As soon as we're in the dorms, I reattach my lips to Jason's.

If it felt good as it did the first time, I'm feeling like I won the biggest competition in the world.

Like I won the biggest, best prize that could ever be won.

And, in a way, I suppose I did...

Jason is here with me.