Jacques a Dit

by someofthissomeofthat310

It's French Appreciation Day at Creekwood High School and the French Club has planned a bunch of activities to celebrate French culture. Students complete different activities with their first period classes. First activity: Jacques a Dit. Martin never found Simon's emails.

Jacques a Dit

Summary: It's French Appreciation Day at Creekwood High School and the French Club has planned a bunch of activities to celebrate French culture. Students complete different activities with their first-period classes. First activity: Jacques a Dit. Martin never found Simon's emails.

I stare up at Mr. Wise, certain that I heard him incorrectly. He had asked me and Abby to stay after class as he was dismissing us from AP English, and my immediate thought had been that we'd completed our practice test terribly. Nope. It has nothing to do with the AP test. It doesn't even have anything to do with the class. We are apparently the only two people in our AP English class that take French, which means that, since Mr. Wise doesn't feel like it, we're going to be leading our class through the activities for French Appreciation Day while he "figures out ways to help us get to the 5 we all want". It's kind of hard to argue with that.

Why does our school offer a billion different language options? I had been hoping that Friday would be a really easy day, one that I could spend fantasizing about Blue, but now I have to do stuff. Like, what gives? I'm a good student. I do my homework; I study for tests and quizzes; I don't argue when our teachers give us an absurd amount of work or when Mr. Wise assigns us essays every week; even distracted, I haven't managed to blow up the school during a chemistry lab. So, why am I being punished just because I didn't feel like taking Spanish? Freshman Simon was an idiot.

When Mr. Wise dismisses us and hands us passes to class, I turn to Abby in the hallway. "Think if we're leading our class, we can lead them right out of school and do something fun?" I ask hopefully. Even though we technically only have 3 minutes to get to class before it's considered a cut, we're taking our time. Our pass essentially works as a get-out-of-jail-free card because Mr. Wise didn't write the time on it.

Abby laughs in that carefree way of hers. "If you really don't want to do it, I'd be fine leading it by myself," she tells me.

"No, I'll help. I just wanted a free day," I explain gloomily.

"We'll make it so fun you'll forget that we have responsibilities," she promises. "And it's just our English class. Leah and Nick are there. They'll laugh with us because we won't give them a choice. And Martin's in there. How could our day be boring with him?"

I chuckle. Martin is a complete goof. Abby's right. Worst case scenario, we can count on him to whore himself out for a cheap laugh. He's kinda a genius at that. Since the play ended, I haven't really seen Martin outside of school, and I miss his sense of humor a little. There's only so much he can do when we're all in AP prep mode. "Our gang of AP English nerds. What could be more fun?" I tease.

Even though I have to do work on one of the few school days that are dedicated to slacking off, I find myself excited when Friday finally rolls around. Abby's been hyping it up to everyone in our class, so I think everyone's excited, and she has set a very high bar. I'm almost a little nervous that we won't reach the bar she set. Mr. Wise takes attendance then gives Abby and me a script that we're supposed to follow for our first activity. He tells us he'll be in the teacher workroom if we need him. Abby and I sit and wait. The script says not to start until Madame Blanc comes on the intercom to officially start French Appreciation Day, so we're waiting for that cue.

While we wait, I find myself thinking of Blue, much like I do 99.9% of my time – he kind of has a permanent residence in my brain at this point. I wonder what class he's in and what activity he's about to experience. I'm sure he's going to hang onto every word that is spoken because he's really serious about school. I get this mental image of Blue sitting on the edge of his seat as he listens to his teacher talk about French culture. He hasn't specifically said anything, but I'm pretty sure he takes Italian. Back in November, he'd talked about this project that only the Italian students needed to do, but I never figured out if he just noticed how many people were working on the project or if he'd needed to do it himself.

Every time I get or send an email to Blue, I like to picture him sitting in front of his computer. I used to think Blue was Cal Price, but then I spent more than ten minutes with Cal Price outside of play practice, and I realized that they are nothing alike. I mean, Cal told me he hates reading and writing, so it was kind of undeniable that he's not Blue. When I think of Blue now, I just picture a silhouette wearing clothes.

Blue and I have been talking via email for six months now and I'm dying to meet him. I think he's getting close to being ready for that. We're a lot more specific in our emails than we used to be and I have a sneaking suspicion that he wants me to find out who he is. I've tried piecing it together, but I didn't realize how little I know about the people I go to school with until I tried to figure out who he is.

I wonder if he's been trying to figure out who I am as well. I've been dropping hints left and right; I've even name-dropped Nick and Leah a few times. Clearly, we're both oblivious when it comes to each other because neither of us has figured it out yet. Or, if he's figured it out, he hasn't felt like he could ask me. I had been crushed when I realized Cal wasn't Blue. It isn't even because I like Cal or anything like that; it is more so because I was suddenly back to having no clue who Blue is. So, while I am suspicious of just about every guy at our school, I refuse to let myself think that anyone is Blue until I'm presented with undeniable evidence. At this point, I am pretty sure that undeniable evidence has to be Blue telling me who he is.

I'm pulled from my musings about Blue when Madame Blanc comes over the intercom to let us know that we should begin our 'immersion into French culture'. Most of this will take place in our English classroom; in fact, until the big assembly in the afternoon, we'll spend all our time in this classroom. Well, we do get to leave for lunch, so there's that. We have the script for our first activity and once we finish that, we'll have to wait for the next script. I feel like there's gotta be a better way of doing this, but I didn't have to organize the event, so I guess I don't get to complain. And I guess it must have worked out last year because I didn't even notice that this is how it went.

At least we get to start off doing something fun. We're playing Jacques a Dit, or Simon Says. that's what the script specifically says. There's some history of Jacques a Dit, but the words seem to swim in front of my eyes. Jacques a Dit is the French version of Simon Says. Does anything else need to exist? I blush a little thinking of Blue playing this with his class. I wonder if he'll make the connection and figure out who I am. I specifically chose Jacques because it was my way of still being me even when I was anonymous. Blue's crazy smart. I expect it to fill me with fear, but it makes me hopeful that maybe the anonymity is almost over. I can almost picture the way that his face will light up when he realizes who I am. Maybe, if he figures it out, he'll pull me aside in the cafeteria and tell me that my nickname is clever. I dunno. I'm not fishing for compliments, but he seems like that kind of person.

"Hey!" Abby calls trying to get our classmate's attention. We lost them in the lull and, except for Nick, no one really acknowledges her now. And… Nick's practically in love with Abby, so it's not like she's fighting for his attention.

I climb on Mr. Wise's desk, partly because he's not here to yell at me and partly because I've kinda always wanted to do it, and whistle… or I try to whistle. Nothing comes out. I'm only a little embarrassed to admit that I love standing on his desk. It's almost thrilling. It probably seems really freaking nerdy, but I feel like it's my passive way of breaking the rules without actually breaking them.

"Yo!" I call loudly. A silence falls over our class and it kinda pleases me that I am so effective. It helps that I'm taller than everyone which is a brand new feeling for me. As I realize they're waiting for me to say something, I feel self-conscious. "Right, so we're gonna get started. My friend, Abby Suso here, is going to explain our first activity."

"Thanks, Si," Abby says. She's laughing. "Are you gonna get down?"

"Are you kidding? I'm taller than everyone in the class right now. This is great," I tell her. I'm not short… not exactly. But I'm shorter than most guys in our school… and some of the girls, so this is a pleasant change. My joke earns me some scattered laughter.

Abby rolls her eyes. "Enjoy that," she says sarcastically. "I, on the other hand, am not going to shirk my duties."

"I got their attention, didn't I?" I point out.

"Welcome to French Appreciation Day 2015!" She says it like she's announcing a football game or something. Our classmates cheer and clap, and I begin to get that giddy, ridiculous feeling. Maybe Abby is right. We're gonna make this the best French Appreciation Day ever. It won't be hard to beat last year. I remember sleeping through most of it. Last year was the first French Appreciation Day at Creekwood, so I have to hope that maybe they changed some things for this year. "We're going to start by playing Jacques a Dit. Simon, if you're not too busy climbing on furniture, you can explain the boring bit."

"Wait!" I say as she passes me the script. "We haven't introduced ourselves yet."

"I think they know who we are," Abby laughs.

"My name is Simon," I say loudly, ignoring her. I glance at the script. "Fun fact. Simon says? We call that Jacques a Dit in French. Don't be fooled though. Jacques a Dit actually means James Says in French… I wonder why Jacques means James and not Jake… you'd think, right?" I glance at Abby who just shakes her head at me before I turn back to the script. "Right. So, Jacques a Dit…" I sigh. There's literally over a page of information about the history of Jacques a Dit in this script. I'm gonna lose the whole class. Except maybe Bram, but he actually paid attention to the documentary about how tin cans were made, so I don't think he counts. If he could stay awake through that (and he was the only one that did), he probably finds this crap interesting too. " I can't make this interesting. Okay, the moral of the story is Jacques says, you do. If you want to read the script, I will definitely let you borrow it but, if you couldn't care less and you want to start having fun, we'll move on. For today, we will forget that Jacques means James and you may call me Jacques because who doesn't want a French alter ego?" I puff out my arms like a superhero. I usually have a French alter ego, but I don't say that part out loud.

Someone gasps and I look up from my script curiously. My eyes find Bram and I'm extra confused when I see him. He's looking at me like I'm one of the wonders of the universe. A few other people shoot him weird looks before they refocus their attention.

I try to ignore his stare as I turn back to the script. I know absolutely nothing about Bram other than the fact that he's crazy smart and always quiet and that he, apparently, has a bigger problem with staring than I do. "So, the winner from this class will get to compete against all the other winners this afternoon when we come together in the auditorium to wrap up French Appreciation Day," Abby explains. "There's a prize fantastique for the overall winner."

"Without further ado. This says to do a practice round. So Jacques a Dit stick out your tongue," I say. I stick out my tongue to demonstrate and the entire class follows suit. "If there's no Jacques a Dit, you don't do it. Close your eyes." I try to open my eyes as much as possible and I don't see a single person close their eyes. "Great, I think we're ready. I have an eagle-eyed view up here" – just another reason climbing on the desk was a genius idea – "so Abby will decide on the prompts and if I tell you to sit down, sit down. No complaints. No arguments."

"But, what if you're wrong?" Nick asks.

"Nick, you can take your seat. Does anyone else want to complain?" I ask jokingly. There isn't a sound. Nick doesn't take his seat, but I don't expect him to. "Didn't think so. Abby?"

"Jacques a Dit stand on your right foot."

I scan our classmates. Everyone looks good. Except… "Uh, Bram? You should have balanced on your other right. You can take a seat." It's weird because Bram almost looks a little relieved to be out so soon; it makes me wonder if it's intentional. I'm aware of his gaze on me, and I do my best to ignore it.

"Jacques a Dit do jazz hands." I'm grinning as I scan the classroom. Everyone's doing it.

"Jump up and down," Abby says.

Nick's the only one that does it. "You've got to sit down for real this time. Sorry, man," I say to him. It's his own fault. He knows better.

"Jacques a Dit yodel," Abby says with a huge smile on her face. As our classmates start to do it, I double over with laughter. I have no idea who didn't yodel because I'm laughing too hard to figure it out, but I can't care. That's the funniest thing I've ever heard. We should always have to yodel. It's terrible. "Jacques a Dit say, 'Abby, you're so great'."

Everyone except for Leah does it. I glare at Leah until she takes her seat with a stony expression on her face. I'm not about to call her out in the middle of class, so I'm a little glad that she sat of her own volition, and I'm pissed at her for acting like this. I still don't understand what happened between Abby and Leah. Leah gets defensive whenever I bring it up, and Abby claims to not have a clue, but Leah seems to have some kind of vendetta against her. Abby doesn't seem to have noticed that Leah had to sit down. It's better that way.

She's already on to the next one. "Jacques a Dit cross your eyes. Jacques a Dit stick out your tongue. Jacques a Dit clap your hands. Snap your fingers."

I have trouble keeping track of the first three because she moves so quickly, but she gets nearly half the class on that last one. I point at people to sit down and once everyone that needs to has taken their seat, Abby continues.

"Jacques a Dit rub your stomach and pat your head." She gets another three people on that one simply because they have trouble with that movement. "Jacques a Dit do the shopping cart." Abby starts the dance and I immediately join in. We're pretending to sway as we push a shopping cart when I realized not a single person is dancing.

"Wow, you all freaking suck," I say. "We're not stopping until someone does it." I pretend to reach for a can to put in my imaginary shopping cart. God bless Martin because he rushes to the front of the room and mimics me and Abby. Abby prompts us as we go to the register, put in our pin, and load up the car. When we finish, it is to thunderous applause. We all bow and I have that feeling. I feel like I did during play practice or that time on the field trip in the fifth grade; it's like I fall a little in love with everyone in our AP English class. There's no mean laughter, no judgment. Just a lot of people laughing and feeling carefree because of what we just did.

"I guess we have a winner," I say. I'm laughing so hard I'm actually crying a little. And I'd been afraid this would be boring.

"I'm so glad I got this on video," Garrett says. He's practically crying too. "God, this is the video we didn't know we wanted, but we definitely needed. I'm totally posting this to Tumblr."

I climb down off the desk. I'm afraid if I don't sit down I'm going to fall. I take deep breaths, but my attempts at calming myself down are interrupted by intermittent spurts of laughter.

Someone knocks on the door. It's some freshman and I guess she isn't expecting to see us all hysterically laughing because she hands Abby an envelope and practically runs away. I glance at the clock. That was the fastest sixty minutes of my life. Abby looks at the script. "So this next one is an immersion into the French language. Simon" - she pronounces it like sea-mon, which makes me smile - "what do you say we turn this into a game as well. Just for kicks."

"Let's do it," I agree.

"Great. We're gonna be team captains. We'll take turns picking people to be on our team," she says.

"I'll pick first," I volunteer.

"What happened to ladies first. Where's your chivalry?" She teases. When I glare at her, she continues, "I guess chivalry is dead."

"If you want me to be chivalrous we can duel on horseback," I say sarcastically. I actually kind of hate when people say chivalry is dead. Of course, it's dead. We don't have a knight's code anymore. We have indoor plumbing. We don't barbarically fight to the death over women. It should be dead. "I admit, I look like a knight in shining armor, but I have all my teeth, so I'm pretty sure I'm exempt from their code."

"Touche, touche," Abby says. "Before we start picking teams, does anyone volunteer to keep score and choose words for us to translate?"

"I'll do it," Anna volunteers. I nod towards her and shift uncomfortably. I know Anna moved on after she broke up with me, and that we're kind of friends in a we-don't-talk-outside-of-school way, but I never really got over the guilt of having started something with her when I already knew I was gay.

I look out at my classmates and pretend to consider my options as I try to push Anna to the back of my head. "I pick Leah," I say. I'm pretty sure if I didn't pick her first, she would kill me, so I didn't have to think too hard.

"Nick," Abby calls. Nick goes to stand behind her.

"Aaliyah, you seem smart," I decide.

"Bram."

My turn. "Pick Garrett," Bram whispers as he walks past me. "He's fluent in French."

"Garrett," I say without hesitation. I may not know Bram well, but I'm pretty sure he's honest. Someone that speaks that little isn't going to waste his time with lies. I have no clue why he's trying to help me when I'm the opposition, but I'm not complaining.

"Martin."

"Connor."

"Frankie."

"Pete."

"Maddie."

That leaves Henry and Hailey. They are twins and I feel weird about splitting them up, like Abby and I should have chosen better. They don't seem to mind as Hailey joins my team and Henry goes with Abby. There isn't a huge demand for AP English and two kids are out, so it's just the fifteen of us for today.

"Great," Abby says excitedly. "So, we can work with each other." She glances around the classroom and pulls a teddy bear off the shelf. "When a team has the answer, someone can run up front and grab this. Whoever gets the stuffed animal gets to answer. Anna will keep a tally. We'll alternate who can run for the stuffed animal so that it's fair."

"Deal," I say. "Let's take a minute to strategize." I don't know if it's my imagination, but as I figure out the order we can run up in, I feel like Bram is staring at me. Every time I turn to check, it seems like he's just looked away. I don't understand why I'm obsessing over him so much. For some reason, French Appreciation Day and Bram are getting into my head. I'm leading the day. That's probably why he's staring. I need to stop overthinking this.

When we have our orders determined, Anna gives us our first word. I would have known it even if Garrett didn't whisper, "bread." I had thought it was hilarious when I first found out that pain meant bread, even if it's not pronounced like pain. I don't even know why I found it so funny. Connor runs up and grabs the stuffed animal before Abby can. One point to Team Spier. I feel victorious already. We get that poulet is chicken and that chemise is shirt, but Nick, Martin, and Henry beat my team to the stuffed animal so they get bonjour is hello, film is movie, and fleur is flower. I console myself by reminding myself that they got all the easy ones.

It's taking a lot longer than we thought it would, so it seems like Bram and I will be the tiebreaker. It doesn't help that we stop to talk in between every question which effectively makes an hour fly by. "Copain," Anna says.

"Boyfriend," Garrett tells me. I run for the stuffed animal and reach it at the same time that Bram does.

So, here's what people don't know: I have this competitive side. This really competitive side. Like, when I let it out, sometimes things get ugly. So, when Bram pulls on the stuffed animal, I pull back. I'm still not sure how it happens, but suddenly his arms are around me as he maintains his hold on the stuffed animal and I'm looking into these endless brown eyes. I lose all sense of up and down and forget that I'm in the middle of a game. For one moment, there's only those eyes and this warmth that's slowly spreading through me making me feel undeniably alive. I also feel uneasy, as if there's something my body wants me to do, but my brain hasn't quite gotten the memo yet.

Bram must feel it too because he releases his hold on the stuffed animal. I'm supposed to say what copain means, but my brain isn't really functioning. I look at Bram and the word pops into my head. It doesn't pop in because I remember Garrett saying it, though that is starting to come back to me too. It pops into my head because that's what Bram made me think of while we were practically wrestling over the stuffed animal. He makes me think of having a boyfriend that I can playfully fight over stuff with, a boyfriend whom I can look deep into the eyes of, a boyfriend to l-. No Simon, just no, I lecture myself. I remind myself of my policy - I do not fall for straight dudes. "Boyfriend," I whisper, looking away from Bram. I think my cheeks must be on fire but, if anyone notices, they don't say anything.

I see Abby looking at me curiously. Nick, Abby, and Leah all know I'm gay, but Abby has taken a special interest in that. She's the only one that talks about boys with me (because she's under the impression that I need the practice) and seems to be the most disappointed with my love life or my lack thereof. She definitely notices my weird reaction. I don't need to look to know that she's raising her eyebrows and giving me those eyes. Anytime she thinks she found the perfect guy for me, she makes her eyes super big like we're in middle school and we're hiding my secret crush on someone. It's sometimes painfully obvious, but she tries, so I can't really get mad at her. For now, she's going to have to live with disappointment. I am so not having that conversation with her until I understand my weird reaction.

The girl is back again. This time she's carrying a cardboard box. Abby passes me the script and starts to open the box.

"Oh, yes!" I say excitedly as I glance at the script. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls…"

The girl knocks on the door, interrupting me. "Madame Blanc says she needs the name of your Jacques a Dit winner," she says. She looks so flustered, the poor thing.

"Martin Addison," Abby tells her.

The girl gives us one last weird look before she disappears. I have a feeling our class isn't going about this in the most orthodox way, but whatever. I'm having a blast. "So, where was I?" I ask. I climb back up onto Mr. Wise's desk. In a weird way, it makes me feel like I'm on top of the world. "Ladies and gentlemen. Boys and girls. Gather round for a lesson in how the French used to dress."

I still can't shake the feeling that Bram is watching me, but everyone is watching me, so I have to remind myself that it's normal for him to be looking at me. Abby and I put on some absurd costumes and parade ourselves around while we talk in ridiculous French accents.

By the end of the hour, my stomach is grumbling. We get to go to the cafeteria for lunch and if the grumbling of other students is anything to go by, this group of AP nerds is having the best time of anyone in the school. Madame Blanc must have gotten the cafeteria workers on board because there is French bread pizza, French fries, and mini cheese quiches in addition to the normal cafeteria fare. It looks about as edible as it usually does, but you've gotta appreciate the effort.

When we leave the cafeteria, I bring some water with me, hoping that it will provide a distraction if I need one. I think I'm building this up in my head, but I could have sworn Bram was staring at me again during lunch.

Our script for the next hour is on the desk when we walk in. "It's another game," Abby says excitedly. We lucked out and got all the fun activities. At lunch, Morgan told us that she's been listening to her teacher go on and on about French music, French literature, and French history all morning. Poor Morgan.

"It's going to require us to break up into pairs. I think we should stick with the same pairs that we were in before." She turns to look at me and winks. It takes everything in my power not to groan. Why does she hate me? I mean, I know she doesn't, but still. I'm confused enough about my feelings and why Bram of all people is causing me to feel these feelings. I don't need her adding to that. "This is called 'Game of the Goatee.' When played in France…" she pauses as she reads ahead. "This is a hella weird game. Basically what you're going to do is say this poem out loud with your partner. Then you grab the other person's chin and pretty much make weird faces at each other until someone smiles or laughs. Anna, would you mind writing this down?" She waits for Anna to get to the chalkboard. "As a disclaimer, this has been revised to make it less weird. I don't think I want to know what it looked like before. It goes 'I hold you. You hold me. By our little chin goatee. Until the first one of us two laughs'."

Bram and I end up going fourth. My team is being obliterated. We haven't won a single time. Garrett started laughing before Frankie even grabbed his chin. Something about knowing that I'm not supposed to smile or laugh gets in my head and I'm already fighting the urge to laugh. So, as I situate myself across from Bram, I'm simultaneously nervous and excited. My hormones need to check themselves because I can't keep being this weird around someone who is straight. Despite my stern talking to myself, my stomach is still doing flip-flops.

We both recite the poem and then I'm holding his chin, and I'm in no danger of laughing. The urge to smile or laugh has disappeared and instead has been replaced by the urge to never let go of his chin and never break this eye contact. I feel like I'm lost again. His eyes are endless and part of me wants to keep looking into them until I reach the very center of his soul. The way he's looking at me makes me feel like I'm made of jelly. I'm supposed to make funny faces, but I don't think I have the slightest control over that right now. My world starts to feel like it's spinning and I feel that thing again, but I still can't put words to what it is. I put my free hand on the ground to steady myself.

Except it's not the ground, it's my cup and suddenly I'm aware that there's water everywhere. It effectively breaks the magic of our moment. I jump to my feet, grateful for something else to focus on. I don't know if anyone felt the intensity of what just happened, but there aren't any hushed whispers, so I don't think so.

"Shit. Sorry. I'm going to go grab some paper towels," I say quickly.

I don't realize Bram follows me until I'm searching the janitor's closet for paper towels. I know he must have some somewhere. I have discovered some really weird stuff that the janitor is hoarding, but not a single roll of paper towels. I have a feeling I'm going to have to settle for toilet paper to clean up the mess I accidentally made.

"Hey, Simon?" Bram asks from the door of the closet.

"Yeah?" I look at him curiously. I wonder if I got him wet or something. Nothing else would explain why he followed me out here.

"I don't think you got a chance to play Jacques a Dit. I've got one for you." He looks nervous and he shuffles his feet. I wonder if Abby is putting him up to this. I think this is the most I've ever heard him speak, so no wonder he looks so nervous. I make a mental note to tell Abby to leave him alone.

"Okay." I'm kind of curious what Abby wants him to say. I can't imagine she'd do anything like try to get me to come out to him, so I don't know what her plan is exactly, but Bram has this weird look in his eyes, a look that makes me feel like every atom in my body is alive and tingling. My stomach is suddenly doing flip-flops again. I don't know what my brain thinks is going to happen, but I would love for it to stop sending these signals to the rest of my body.

"Jacques a dit kiss Blue. That means Simon says kiss me," Bram whispers.

He's so quiet, I almost convince myself I imagined it, but I see that look in his eyes and the nervous way he looks at my lips, and I know I didn't; I know this is real. My heart feels like it doesn't know whether to stop or speed up which results in this irregular thumping in my ears. Bram is Blue. Bram is Blue. Bram is Blue. I wonder if it will stop seeming so impossible if I keep thinking it. Weirdly, that's not the thing I am most focused on. I feel like I have all the time in the world to think about how Bram is Blue and Blue is Bram. Most of my brain is focused on what he asked me to do. He asked me to kiss him. I don't realize until that exact moment that I am almost desperate to kiss him. It's what the unidentifiable urge was earlier and during the game just now.

I forget about our quest for paper towels and the mess waiting for us in our English classroom. I forget that we're in school and that anyone might walk past us. I may even forget my name. I'm not sure. Everything's a little blurry as I close the gap between us.

It's everything I dreamed it would be and more. I've spent countless nights imagining Blue's lips on mine, imagining his hands caressing my cheeks, imagining pulling him closer to me because he'll never be close enough. Despite my active imagination, I am unprepared for the feelings that kissing him creates in me. I feel like I'm on fire, but it's a good fire. It's kind of like a fire in a fireplace that makes you feel warm and loved and like you are home. It's a fire that needs his lips to keep burning and I have no intention of letting the flames die down. The longing shocks me. I want more, and I don't want the kiss to ever stop. I want us to always be able to do this. We should always be able to feel like we're on top of the world. Bram smells like soap and deodorant, which I don't expect to be a good thing, but turns out to be amazing. Everything about the kiss leaves me wanting more.

Too soon, he breaks our kiss. His eyes have a wild look in them, and he's breathing heavy. He looks like he doesn't want to stop either, but reality has pulled us apart. We may have forgotten for one beautiful minute, but school is in session. There are students in every classroom and teachers that may be patrolling the halls and a janitor that could come looking for supplies at any minute. "We should probably find those paper towels," he says quietly.

I nod, but I can't quite make myself look away from him. "I think we need to find a time to talk."

He bites his lip. "How committed are you to the Jacques a Dit competition this afternoon?" He asks. "We could slip out. They would never even notice."

I smile. Bram. Cutting school. Who saw that one coming? "I'd like that," I admit. It helps that it's a low-risk ditch. Bram's not wrong. Having the whole school in the same place means that we won't be the only ones treating the day like an early dismissal. No one will be taking attendance and most teachers don't care enough to even pretend to keep track of their students.

I turn back to the closet, but I know it's a lost cause. Bram's the one that spots some raggedy towels on the top shelf. They're crumpled and faded, but they should get the job done. I grab one and we head back to our classroom. I finish cleaning up the water just as the girl comes by again. "This is the last one," she tells us. "Madame Blanc says you should head to the auditorium when you finish, even if you finish early."

"Thanks," I tell her. I don't say what I'm thinking which is that I will most certainly not be reporting to the auditorium.

I let Abby take the lead on this one. It's all about French history, which I normally would have been excited to act out with Abby, but not right now. I still feel like I'm made of jelly and I worry that if I open my mouth, Bram's name will come out like a mantra.

That hour is the slowest of my day. I think that has more to do with my eager anticipation than the actual material, which Abby does a really great job with.

When Abby finishes, the whole school is swarming the halls to get to the auditorium. I make eye contact with Bram and a huge smile crosses my face. We are effortlessly able to blend in with our classmates and sneak out undetected. I lead him to my car. "Did you drive here?" I ask curiously.

He shakes his head. "Garrett and I usually carpool. Today was his day to drive."

He gets in the passenger seat of my car, and I feel self-conscious about the mess. There's nothing excessively gross, but it is cluttered. "Where are we going?" I ask.

"Wherever you want," he assures me.

I hesitate before I start to drive. I'm going to my safe space. It's a great place to organize thoughts and feelings… or to explore them. Before I came out, I used to come here all the time. I never brought Nick or Leah or Abby with me and it was one of the few places I could really call mine. The number of times I thought about Blue here? I feel like it's already partially his place as well.

I haven't been here in a while, but as I look out at the park I feel like it's been no time at all. I'm the only car in the lot next to the park. Bram strikes me as a park kind of guy. I don't know what it is about him that makes me think that, but I get the idea that he'll appreciate my park. We end up sitting on the hood of my car as we look out at the park. It has this calming effect on me, which is good. I need a calm head if we're going to talk.

"Blue," I say, playing around with the word on my tongue. It's funny because I've been looking forward to this moment since I decided I wanted to meet Blue, but I have never actually thought about what I want it to look like or what I would say. I think part of me always assumed Blue would take the lead on that. I know now why I couldn't figure out who Blue is. Bram doesn't talk at school and I really never tried to get to know him. "You're quiet."

"Now or in general?" Bram asks.

"Both," I shrug.

"I'm quiet around you," Bram explains. He's looking out at the park instead of at me.

"I'm one of the cute guys who get you tongue-tied?" I tease.

"You're the cute guy," he corrects. I feel like I'm blushing from head to foot. He chews on his lip. "You have no idea how much I wanted it to be you. It's one of the reasons that I was so nervous about meeting you. I worried that if it wasn't you, part of me would be disappointed."

My heart is thumping in my ears. He wanted it to be me. He wanted it to be me! "And now that you know it's me?" I ask curiously. "What do you want?"

"I want whatever you want," Bram assures me. The way he's looking at me gives me that jelly feeling again. I'm really going to have to get a handle on my hormones if I ever want to be functional again. Looking at him, it doesn't seem so bad to let them take the reign for now. "I'm all in if you are."

"All in," I say. I listen to the words as I say them. "Like what? Like boyfriend?" I try to sound nonchalant, but my heart is beating so loudly I'm pretty sure Bram can hear it, so I don't think I'm doing the best job.

"I mean, yeah. I think I'd like that. If that's what you want," he says. He sounds a little flustered and it occurs to me I'm not the only one with crazy, out-of-control hormones.

"That's what I want," I agree. I look into his too-brown eyes. This time, I don't worry about getting lost in them. It seems worth it to me. "Jacques a Dit kiss me?"

He smiles and brings his hand up to caress my cheek. If our first kiss was perfect, this was close to Godly. We do it right this time. We take our time and start off slow. I feel the warm skin of his cheek, the soft hair at the nape of his neck. I lean closer to him to deepen the kiss. My eyes are closed which magnifies everything I am feeling. I want to feel it all. It's all new for me; I don't know how I went seventeen years without feeling this way.

When we break apart, I can't stop smiling. Our first kiss had been rushed and terrifying because we could have gotten caught. This one? It's absolutely perfect. It's the kind of kisses that story book characters have, the kind of kiss that makes me understand why people might give up everything for the people they love because the world no longer seems to belong to me. Now, it seems to belong to us.

My phone buzzes. I open it to see a missed call and three text messages from Abby.

Where are you? None of us can find you in the auditorium

Um… I'm pretty sure you're not here

I JUST NOTICED THAT BRAM'S NOT HERE EITHER. COINCIDENCE? I THINK NOT ;)

I know I'm going to have to tell Abby and Nick and Leah about what went down here, but the idea doesn't seem so daunting.

"Everything okay?" Bram asks.

"Abby noticed our absence," I explain with a shrug. And then because I don't know what else to say, I add, "so Garrett speaks French?"

Bram chuckles. "Yeah. He lived in France when he was little because his dad worked there for a few years. I thought that would be a huge clue for you, my sacrificing our win. But you just looked really confused."

"I was," I admit. "I thought you were staring at me, but I couldn't figure out why. I'm so oblivious."

"No, you're not." But I am, I really am. The more I think about it, the more I can't believe I hadn't realized. It seems so obvious now. OF COURSE, Bram is Blue.

"I'm really glad it's you," I whisper. I don't think I realized how lucky I was until this exact moment. Blue could have been anyone, but he was Bram. Quiet Bram, who I'd always suspected was really funny inside his head. Quiet Bram, who I'd daydreamed about on countless occasions. Quiet Bram with the soccer calves.

I can't help but blush at that last one. I'd never really thought about calves until I saw Bram's on Gender Bender Day, and I haven't really been able to stop thinking about them since.

"Valentine's Day is next weekend," I blurt out.

"Yeah, it is," he agrees.

"Do you want to do something?" I ask. I'm trying to sound nonchalant, but I'm pretty sure I'm epically failing in that regard. I've had girlfriends on Valentine's Day and that never meant much to me. This year, I have Bram and I feel like I really want to celebrate that.

"Of course," he says, looking at me like his answer was obvious. And maybe it is, but maybe I needed to hear him say it.

Bram and I sit on my car for over an hour. We hold hands, I rest my head on his shoulder, and neither of us speaks, but I don't think we need to. I think we've had a lot of practice talking to each other, so it's nice to just sit and be together in a way we couldn't do when we were hiding behind our computer screens.

This is perfection.

~ Almost One Year Later ~

One day short of a year after Bram and I got together, it's French Appreciation Day again. Thank God that Bram is in my first-period class again because this is basically going to equate to a day of us sitting in the back of the classroom and flirting. At least, that's what he thinks it will be. Honestly, if I wasn't so excited for my plan, that kind of day would be perfect.

He has no idea that this is coming. There are only a dozen people in our AP European History class, so I know today's going to be a fun day. Especially since we're friends with all those people, and they're all in on this.

I cannot wait to see his face.

Abby and I convince Ms. Dillinger that we can handle guiding the class through the day. Abby even throws in a "you work so hard Ms. Dillinger, you really deserve a break." I thought Ms. Dillinger was going to hug Abby… or cry; she looked so flattered. She agreed that she deserved a break and told us she'd be doing prep in the teacher work room all day.

I don't look at the envelope that's on Ms. Dillinger's desk. I know exactly how today is going to go. Abby and I practically had this down to a science. "So, Abby and I are gonna do things a little differently today. We will be your expert moderators as well as participants. And today, we're going to start off with a little ballroom dancing," I say loudly. All eyes are on me. "Ballroom dancing originated in France. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Partner up and move all the desks away from the center of the room!"

I motion for Bram to come towards me. Abby smiles at me, and I grin back as she presses play. "Hello, my name is Abby Suso," Abby says with a huge smile. "Today we'll be learning how to waltz. The first thing you're gonna want to do is hold your partner close. Pretend you like them. Hell, pretend you love them. But make sure you stay school-appropriate. Your private life should most definitely stay private." Abby winks at me. One time. We pocket dial her one time and she never lets us forget it.

I ignore her and pull Bram close to me. We're standing in the middle of the classroom, but we might as well be alone for all that I notice the people around us. It's a good thing Bram is so focused because he's able to listen to Abby's instructions and lead. We fall into a good rhythm and pretty soon, I'm not the only one that's forgetting about the people around us. We waltz for what feels like no time before Abby tells us the hour is almost up.

A freshman boy knocks on the door. I take the envelope and put it on top of the other unopened envelope. "Madame Blanc wanted me to inform you that there's been a slight schedule change. We're going to do Jacques a Dit as the very last activity before the assembly instead of right before lunch."

I shoot Abby a slightly panicked look because that changes everything. Suddenly, someone threw a giant wrench in our perfectly choreographed plans. If he hadn't announced it in front of the whole class, I would have just ignored that and gone on business as usual, but I couldn't do that without raising suspicions from one particular person who needed to stay in the dark right now. "Great," Abby says. The kid leaves, and I can see the gears working in her head. "Simon and I are just going to step outside for a minute so we can get more information about the schedule change."

We step out into the hall. "That goatee game," she says quietly. "We can play that right after lunch before Jacques a Dit, just like we planned."

"And right before lunch?" I ask. "We have two hours to kill now."

"Well, if we're not doing the goatee game next, what if we do a two-hour trust activity. People in France trust each other, right?" She suggests.

"Don't you think that's stretching it?" I wonder.

"Oh, and ballroom dancing isn't stretching it?" She asks sarcastically.

"Fair enough," I concede. "Okay, so what should this trust activity look like?"

"I think we're gonna need a blindfold. You know how those work, don't you?" She sounds so innocent, but she has this smile on her face that tells me she's trying to push my buttons.

I groan. "Why didn't you just hang up?" I ask.

"Because I didn't understand what I was listening to at first," she shrugs. "And then by the time I did, it was too late and I had all this ammunition to use against you."

Why couldn't I have pocket dialed Leah? She would not have held this against me like Abby does. I guess at least it's harmless with Abby. She won't tell anyone; she'll just make me and Bram feel mortified.

"So, blindfolds," I redirect.

"And we can turn the classroom into an obstacle course where your partner has to guide you around. We'll time each couple," she says.

"That does sound fun," I agree.

We go back inside. "Trust," I start. "There's trust in France." Abby starts laughing and we're attracting some pretty weird looks, but I don't care. We're embracing our inner weird.

It takes us nearly thirty minutes to turn the classroom into an obstacle course and then another fifteen to explain what we want to do, but it's so worth it. It's hilarious watching people being guided into desks and chairs.

Bram and I are no exception. I use some pretty obscure clues like 'do a ballerina twirl around the table.' To his credit, he does pretty well with most of my clues and, honestly, seeing him parkour over a desk made this whole activity worth it. We finish with the best time which earns me an eye-roll from Abby - who had fallen down under Nick's guidance - and a kiss on the cheek from Bram.

Then it's time for lunch. That, at least, is totally norma, and I feel so much better knowing we're back to our planned territory. When we get back to the classroom, I feel my excitement rising and there's kind of a charged buzz of excitement around us. Our classmates know what is coming and I think they're just as curious to see how it will play out.

"Time for the goatee game," Abby calls. "But we're gonna change this a bit and turn it into a more modern compliment battle. Still with the chin grabbing of course. Simon and I will demonstrate."

She and I sit across from each other. I already feel like hysterically laughing and we haven't done anything yet. "I hold you. You hold me. By our little chin goatee. Until the first one of us two laughs," we chant.

Then she grabs my chin and looks deep into my eyes. "Simon" – she pronounces it like sea-mon again, which is a sure-fire way to get me to laugh – "do you know you're looking fiiiiiiine today." She drags out the 'i' in fine for a comically long time.

I feel my lips twitching. "I know I'm looking pretty fine," I say.

She looks like I just confessed to a murder… or told her they canceled Scandal. "No, no, no. that's not how you say it. You're looking fiiiiiiiiiine," she says.

There's no holding back my laughter as I repeat, "I'm looking fiiiiiiiiine."

"Simon laughed, so my next victim would come up. We'll just go in a circle," Abby tells us.

It takes several rounds before Bram ends up across from me. He's been here for a bit because he's ridiculously good at hiding his emotions. With most people. I'm pretty sure I can get him to crack.

I know I can't get him to laugh because he does have a really good poker face. That's what most people don't realize about Bram. They take it as a challenge to try to get him to laugh, but Bram usually laughs in his head. It's rare for him to laugh out loud, so their attempts are futile. I settle for a different approach than most others have taken. We say the chant and grab each other's chins. I bring my free hand up to his cheek. It's warm and soft and perfect. He almost closes his eyes and I can already see the corner of his lips twitching. "Bram," I say quietly. I look deep into his eyes. It's been almost a year and I still get lost in them all the time. "I love you more than Oreos."

Sure enough, a huge smile spreads across his face. Maybe this wasn't the best choice because now all I want to do is kiss him and I can see that he wants to kiss me too. We'd been told that the whole wanting-to-touch-each-other-constantly thing would wear off, but it hasn't for us yet. I always want to hold his hand or kiss him or do something. How strongly I want to kiss him is sometimes overwhelming. "That's cheating," Leah grumbles. "None of us can say that to him and not sound creepy."

"Your loss," I say with a shrug. I glance at the clock. We're almost out of time. "I think that's enough for now. We can take a break before we start playing Jacques a Dit."

"You're just saying that so you can win," Leah points out.

"Okay. You want to go up against me?" I ask. "Take a seat."

And she does. We say the chant and we grab each other's chins. "Leah," I say. I don't think they realize this, but Bram and Leah are pretty similar in some ways. When they set their mind to it, they won't laugh - Leah only laughs out loud sarcastically, but I know exactly how to get a smile from both of them. "I like you more than you like gay manga."

Leah smiles and then chuckles once when she realizes she's smiling. "Well played, Spier," she says. She ruffles my hair as she stands up.

That effectively brings us to the end of the hour and we instruct everyone to stand up and get ready for Jacques a Dit.

Our first round goes by pretty quickly. It's a good thing Bram is so bad at this because he gets out in the second round and by the fourth round, Nick is the only one left standing.

Last week, we'd had a pretty competitive game of Jacques a Dit during lunch while Bram was at the dentist to determine who the winner would be, and Nick won; every else had been instructed to pretty much throw the game today. It was important that we get to this second game though. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Leah retreat to the corner with her phone.

"We have so much time left, I think we should play again," Abby says. "Jacques a Dit get with your partners from earlier." She waits a minute as we get with our partners. "Jacques a Dit face the back wall." Bram turns so his back is to me. There's a lot of shuffling as some people come to stand behind me. "Jacques a Dit face your partner." Bram turns and his face contorts comically. His eyes are wide and after a second, he brings his hand up to cover his open mouth. I really hope that Leah's getting this on camera. "Jacques a Dit Simon take it away."

"Jacques a Dit go to prom with me?" I hold out the two prom tickets and smile. I hope it isn't too much. I know he didn't want a big promposal, but I thought this was both small enough and big enough to be perfect for us.

He nods and pulls me close to him. It's important for me to say that we literally never kiss in front of our classmates. Like literally never. Well, he'll kiss my cheek and my hand, but never anything more than that and even that's pretty rare. I don't even think most people in here have ever seen us kiss. Leah has once because she has incredibly inconvenient timing always, but I don't think anyone else has. So, as he leans in to kiss me, it feels more special than any of our other kisses. I've never thought he was ashamed of me or anything like that, but the fact that he's so overwhelmed that he's doing this in front of almost a dozen other people means a lot to me.

People wolf whistle. "Okay, you guys. Save something for prom night," Abby says.

I give her the middle finger from behind Bram's back and ignore her. I am usually the one with the poor impulse control, so it surprises me when Bram doesn't ignore her. "Hey, Abby. Do you want some cheese?" He asks.

Abby's eyes get big and she looks mortified but that shuts her up so effectively. "How did you do that?" I ask.

"I'll tell you later," Bram promises. He still looks a little flustered. It's a good look on him.

Fortunately for me, later doesn't take too long to get to. Within a few minutes, everyone is on their way to the auditorium. "Interested in leaving early?" I ask.

"I thought you would never ask," Bram grins.

Hand in hand, we leave the school. He follows me to my house so I can drop off my car and then we go to our park. It seems fitting and, without discussing it, we know that's where we'll end up. We've been here countless times in the last year. I used to think that I couldn't possibly bring someone here with me because it was my sanctuary for such a long time, but Bram only makes it feel safer. We sit on the hood of his car. "So, tell me about the cheese," I practically beg.

Bram chuckles. "Nick felt bad for us," he tells me. "He didn't give me details, but he told me what to say. He thought we would be able to use it so that she would stop obsessing over your butt misdial. I think he's as uncomfortable about it as we are."

"I wonder what the story behind it is," I mutter.

Bram shrugs. "I don't have that answer for you." He gently taps his thumb along the edge of my palm, adequately distracting me.

"So, we're going to prom together," I say with a big smile.

"Did I mention I hate you… except not really. That was so perfect," he tells me. His smile reaches his eyes, making him look like his whole world revolves around my promposal. That's how I can always tell whether he really likes something or whether he's trying to spare my feelings.

"I love you too." I don't think my smile is going to go away for a long, long time. I'm getting that feeling where it seems like not smiling would take more effort than smiling.

~ Six Years Later ~

Time feels like it's flying. Our prom was a blast, of course. But then came college. Those four years are what I mentally refer to as our dark days. Long-distance was hard, classes sucked, and we were always ridiculously mopey because of how much we missed each other. When we saw each other it was okay, but it took a lot of hard work for us to survive the whole long-distance thing. I love Bram, but I get why so many couples don't make it. It was so hard to say goodbye to him over and over again, just to know that it would be two weeks before we'd get to say hello. Sure, we emailed every day and talked on the phone obsessively, but it wasn't easy.

It was hard, but we made it. My college graduation was one of the happiest moments of my life, followed by every single moment since then. We moved in together the day after my graduation because both of us had more than enough distance for a lifetime and because Bram was doing some five-year program that would give him his Bachelors and Masters in one fell swoop, and I refused to move back to Georgia and put even more space between us… in defense of me, Bram refused as well. It's weird, we kind of had an argument about it, but both of us were arguing the same side. I think we were just really nervous at the prospect of moving in together - we have very different cleanliness standards - but we've made it work.

After he graduated, our lives seemed to take off. We have the same schedule for the first time in years, and we're thriving. The week before Valentine's day, Bram and I are home to visit our families. It's hard living away from them in New York City, so we make a point of coming home a couple of times a year. We can't always make long trips because Bram would never leave his college students like that – he's a bigshot professor now and I couldn't be prouder – and I can't exactly pick up and leave.

It surprised both of us when I found my calling during college, especially since I started as a General Studies major. That's a nice way of saying that I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. Now, I teach sociology which roughly equates to talking about myself all day and making sure my students have a safe space to share stuff about themselves, with intermittent facts about sociology thrown in there. I love every minute of it… except the paperwork. I have a newfound respect for all the teachers at Creekwood High because the paperwork really does suck. I guess I never really gave much thought to how much work our teachers put in to create lessons and actually teach us. And don't even get me started on goals and IEPs and 504s and budgets. It's a lot of freaking work, but it's so worth it. I feel like this is what I was meant to do. It's my little way of sculpting my students so they create the kind of world I wish I lived in during high school.

Bram's the one that suggests that we go to our park. At dusk, it almost looks like magic. We haven't been here since we were home for winter break our sophomore year and that's when we had the will-we-make-it talk because both of us had started to doubt it.

The stars provide more than enough light to illuminate the park and as we walk through it, I feel like I'm in a storybook.

"Simon?" Bram asks after we've stopped walking.

"Yeah?" I ask him curiously.

"Do you know how much I love you?" He asks. His eyes are too serious for me to think that he's joking. I study him curiously, not sure where he's going with this. "I love you so much, Simon Spier. I've loved you since I found out who you were during French Appreciation Day our junior year. I fall in love with you a little more every day that you continue to be part of my life. I am so lucky that my mysterious Jacques ended up being you and that you gave me the best love story of all time. I am lucky to have found someone that embraces my nerdy side and isn't afraid to be a nerd himself. I am incredibly lucky to love you and to be love by you. Every day with you has been a gift, and I want to be yours forever. So, Simon…" He gets down on one knee. "Jacques a Dit… marry me?"

"Yes," I whisper. My voice is barely audible, but I can't manage anything more than that. My heart feels like it's too big for my chest. "Yes." I think my voice is louder, but I can't be sure because my heart is beating in my ears and it drowns out all other sounds. Bram's still looking at me expectantly, so I repeat myself. "Yes." This time, I know I make noise because I hear it through the sound of my heartbeat.

Bram practically jumps up and kisses me. As I tug him closer to me, I can't help but smile into our kiss. We're engaged. And he did it in the most perfect and Bram way possible.

"I love you," he whispers when we break our kiss.

"I love you too," I whisper back. "And I will for the rest of my life."