You and Me and Him Read Free

Thanks.” He smoothes out the napkin and sets it next to his lunch.
    “So what did you do when you were there?” Nash asks.
    “I, um, well, I was kind of young, only eleven.” The blush is back, and Tom sputters a little. He starts gnawing on the nail on his middle finger. He’s trying hard to avoid saying something.
    Nash and I both wait. Nash because he asked the question, and me because I am curious about what Tom’s hiding.
    Finally Tom spills. “Um, we saw lots of medieval stuff—you know, the Tower of London, knights, castles, that kind of thing.” He’s looking at us like he hopes we’ll fill in the blanks and save him from having to explain the rest.
    We’re nodding, but it’s clear we aren’t getting it.
    Tom sighs. “I was in sort of a Dungeons and Dragons stage, pretty much obsessed with the Middle Ages, weapons, armor, all that. Every guy goes through that, right?”
    Tom and I both look at Nash, realizing at the same time that this phase of adolescent manhood passed him by.
    “Okay, maybe not everyone, but I grew out of it. I’m not into D&D anymore. I quit after I got passed over as Dungeon Master.”
    “Dungeon Master?” Nash and I ask at the same time, but Tom holds up a hand.
    “That’s a story for another time,” he says. “I’ve already humiliated myself enough for a first day of school, and I should know—I’ve had nine of them.” He points his finger back and forth at Nash and me. “Besides, now you both owe me.” He leans back, crossing his arms like he’s won some kind of prize.
    Nash and I exchange glances.
    “Owe you?” I ask.
    “An embarrassing story or fact about yourself. One each.”
    Nash starts to protest, but Tom puts one hand on Nash’s arm and holds up his other one to silence him. Nash stops talking. Typically nobody can shush him.
    “Not now, but soon,” Tom says.
    Nash looks at Tom’s hand on his arm and nods. They start talking about other things: plans for after school, which teachers to avoid.
    I keep watching Tom. He’s pretty, but there’s something more going on under there, something different. He’s really listening to Nash, leaning in, keeping eye contact. He’s not looking around for an escape route or scoping out his other options. Not yet. A guy who’s been to that many schools knows that hanging with Nash and me is not the best he could do. Yet here he is. Why? That’s what I want to know. I stare at Tom, mulling over his motivations, when I hear my name.
    “Maggie?” The voice comes from behind me.
    I recognize it right away, even though I haven’t heard it in a while: Kayla Hill.
    “Maggie, is that you?” she says, like we haven’t gone to the same school for a decade.
    “Kayla,” I say, my voice cautious. Kayla is at the top of the food chain, no mistake. Her end-of-summer tan stands out against a bright yellow sundress that hugs her curves. Her whole being screams popular. I wonder why she’s decided to go slumming by talking to Nash and me—then I see her wide brown eyes laser-focused over my head at Tom.
    “How have you been?” Kayla coos. “It’s been so long!”
    “Yeah,” I say. “About four years.”
    Kayla laughs this little laugh that sounds like a bell ringing and kind of swats at my arm like I’m a real kidder. But we both know it’s been at least that long since Kayla and I spoke.
    “Hi, Nash,” she says, polite but not friendly, then reaches out her hand to Tom. “And I don’t believe we’ve met,” she says. “I’m Kayla.” Tom shakes her hand.
    “Tom.” He smiles that killer smile. “Nice to meet you.”
    “You’re new, right? I’m on the new student orientation committee.” Kayla smiles back at Tom, and their combined wattage is overpowering. “If you need anything, you let me know.” Her voice is warm and inviting, like caramel, and I remember for a moment what it feels like to bask in Kayla’s glow.
    “Will do,” Tom says.
    “Bye for now,” she says, waving, and sashays