Kate in Waiting by Becky Albertalli (ereader with android txt) 📕

a couple of options. I think we can fit an air mattress onto the floor of the guest room just fine. But Ryan, if you were open to it, maybe Matthew—”

“That’s fine,” Ryan says simply.

Mom nods. “So you’re fine having Matthew in the extra bed.”

“He could stay in my room,” I suggest.

Mom laughs. “Absolutely not.”

“On the air mattress!” I feel the heat rise in my cheeks. “I don’t mean. Like. That. I’m just offering.”

“Nice try. Not happening. And by the way, the six-inch rule is still six hundred percent in effect.”

“That is heteronormative and sexist.”

“Anyway,” Mom says. “Ry, honey, are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Matt’s cool.”

Oh. Ohhhh. Hold up. It hadn’t even occurred to me that Ryan and Matt might actually be friends. But why wouldn’t they be? They’re both seniors, both in AP classes, and the people in Matt’s pictures from Alabama definitely look like people Ryan would hang out with. It’s not like he’s never been to an f-boy party.

I’ve just never really pictured Matt’s world outside of Andy and me. But wow. For all I know, he himself could be an f-boy.

Except, no. Absolutely not. He can’t be. F-boys aren’t sweet and silly, and they definitely don’t do theater. I mean, Noah Kaplan is and does, sort of, but he’s always been somewhat of an anomaly among f-boys. Whereas Matt’s not an f-boy whatsoever. Would an f-boy hold his diaphragm while singing scales and doing warm-ups? Would an f-boy even give Andy and me the time of day? I don’t think so.

“You guys are awesome,” says my mom. “The best. Seriously. I’ll tell Ellen to check out of the hotel.” Her phone’s already pressed to her ear, ringing. “Sound good?”

Ryan nods.

But I just quietly combust.

Scene 45

“Shut. Up,” Anderson says, as soon as he sees me in history.

“I literally said zero words—”

“Matt just told me! Oh my God, Katy. Like, a tree? A fucking tree?”

“Who’s fucking trees?” asks Raina, sliding into her usual desk behind Anderson.

“Well,” Andy says, putting a hand on his hip. “According to my sources, a tree—an actual tree—fell onto Matt Olsson’s house while he was at rehearsal yesterday, so now apparently, he’s moving into Kate’s bedroom—”

“What? That is absolutely—”

“Damn,” says Raina. “Kate. Get yours.”

“Okay, first of all, he’s staying in Ryan’s room—”

“Still!” Anderson slips into his seat but turns right back to face me. “Kate Eliza, you are the luckiest girl on earth, I swear. Between this and the Larken and Harry stuff.”

The bell rings before I can reply, bringing the usual flurry of movement—people claiming seats, dropping backpacks, hugging, talking, ignoring Mr. Edelman. Noah walks in wearing a T-shirt featuring—I’m not kidding—the word “Daddy” and a picture of Daniel Tiger’s father.

I look up at him. “Really?”

“Just raising awareness.”

“Unbelievable.”

Anderson nudges my sneaker with his loafer. “Hey,” he says, eyeing me meaningfully. “I have to pee.”

Our signal. I nod almost imperceptibly, my eyes fixed straight ahead.

Ten minutes later, we’re practically skidding down the hallway, each with our own crumpled up hall pass from Mr. Edelman. It’s amazing—we didn’t even have to stagger our exits. But of course, Edelman’s one of those teachers who’s always visibly relieved to have fewer students in the classroom. We reach the BTF and assume our usual stall positions immediately.

“So. Kind of crazy, right? Matt’s moving into Hotel Garfield.”

“Uh, yeah, but more importantly,” says Andy. “What’s going on with you and Noah?”

For a moment, I’m speechless. “Me and Noah? Noah Kaplan?”

“You’re gonna act like there wasn’t a major vibe just now? Please.”

“Um.” I snap a quick, befuddled-looking selfie and text it to Anderson. “Andy, are you high?”

“I’m just saying. You had the look. The mouth.”

Anderson swears I do this thing with my mouth, some kind of twitch at the corners. He says it’s my tell when I like someone. I happen to think it’s bullshit.

“Andy, he’s a fuckboy. What are you talking about?”

“He’s a misunderstood fuckboy. Barely a fuckboy. He’s not exactly Jack Randall.”

“Jack Randall literally drew boobs on Noah’s cast.”

“Eww,” Anderson says. “Well, definitely don’t start dating him until he gets his cast off.”

“Oh, the boobs are gone. He has a replacement cast.”

“Well, in that case—”

“Also, what the fuck? I’m not dating Noah Kaplan!”

“Mm-hmm. If you say so.”

I can barely form words, I’m so shell-shocked. I just scrunch my legs up onto the side of the toilet and shake my head slowly. Anderson’s finally lost it. He has to be kidding, right? Noah? Sorry, but that’s clearly wishful thinking. On Anderson’s part, not mine. NOT mine. Because if I’m occupied with Noah Kaplan, Andy gets Matt all to himself. How convenient.

“Is this just you being weird because Matt’s moving into my house?”

“Pssh. No.” There’s this tiny rustle from his stall that makes me think he’s taking a selfie. Sure enough, within moments, I get a photo of Anderson rolling his eyes. “You know this means you’ll be sharing a bathroom with Matt, right?”

“So?”

“So? Kate, excuse me, are you forgetting about Bring It On? Kirsten Dunst and Jesse Bradford? The toothbrush scene?”

“Oh my God.” My stomach flutters. “Oh my God.”

“This is your life now, Kate. Sexually charged dental hygiene. Every single night.”

“But just Mom’s house nights—”

“You have to, like, check the medicine cabinet or something. It’s not creepy if it’s your own bathroom. Do you think he’ll bring condoms?”

“Why?”

“To have sex,” Andy says.

“In Ryan’s room?”

“I’m just saying, there are no secrets now. We are about to solve the mystery of Matthew Thomas Olsson.” Anderson pauses. “What if you walk in on him showering?”

“What if he walks in on me showering?” My stomach drops. “Or pooping!”

“You can’t poop while he’s there,” Anderson says, matter-of-factly. “You poop at your dad’s house now.”

“But what if—”

“Or my house. Katypie, I am dead serious. If you have to poop, you walk your stiff little butt out that door and over to my house. I’ve got you.”

“You’re an amazing friend. Like. Next-level amazing. You know that?”

“Make it up to me by inviting me over tonight,” Andy says.

I grin. “Consider yourself invited.”

Scene 46

Matt and