Love, Creekwood Read online

  So what I’m trying to say is I get where you’re coming from, at least about the one-foot-in, one-foot-out feeling. But maybe that’s just what happens when you find a person you like better than the rest of the world. You say yes to your person and no to the world, over and over and over (until you’re old and married, I guess? Jesus Christ, I don’t know).

  Anyway, I’m so sorry you’re having such a shitty time with all of this. I really hate how much you’re hurting. But, Simon, you don’t owe anyone your happiness. You know that, right? You can mope around and miss your boyfriend and be sad when he does stuff without you, and that’s a pretty fucking normal way to feel, actually. I’m not saying you should be an asshole to him about it. But don’t be an asshole to yourself either.

  I love you, mopehead. Glad you made your flight.

  FROM: [email protected]

  TO: [email protected]

  DATE: OCT 24 AT 1:19 PM

  SUBJECT: HEAR ME OUT

  Ms. Burke, I’ve taken all your concerns under advisement, and I have reached the conclusion that I’m on the right side of this issue. I intend to make my final case below. I ask only that you read it with an open mind and heart.

  Reasons Why Leah Burke and Abby Suso Need to Be CatDog for Halloween: A Point-by-Point Analysis

  CatDog is an underappreciated icon, who deserves all the honor and respect in the world after being overlooked for decades (by everyone but my brother, Isaac William Suso, who once had to be talked out of getting a six-inch CatDog tattoo around his bicep. But tattoos, as you can imagine, are a completely different conversation. Might I remind you that Halloween costumes are fleeting and impermanent, much like our very existence?).

  CatDog, being both a cat and a dog, is therefore at least twice as creative as any single cat or dog costume.

  Built-in conversation starter: CatDog’s bodily functions.

  CatDog can be accomplished with the barest shortlist of items (two extra-long yellow T-shirts, yellow tights, felt, glue, poster board, markers, extra fabric, face paint) (okay, it’s not the barest shortlist, but it’s cheaper than a Hogwarts robe).

  Literally what could be sexier than a conjoined cat and dog??

  Frankly, I kind of dig the idea of being physically attached to you all night.

  In conclusion: Will you take my dog body to fuse with your cat body for as long as we both shall attend Caitlin’s Halloween party this weekend?

  xoxo

  Abby

  FROM: [email protected]

  TO: [email protected]

  DATE: OCT 24 AT 3:15 PM

  SUBJECT: RE: HEAR ME OUT

  You know, for all the hours I spent daydreaming about what it would be like to date you, I somehow failed to anticipate the involvement of CatDog. You realize CatDog is essentially a penis with animal heads on either end, right? And are the cat and dog romantically involved with each other? Are they siblings? I don’t know, Suso. If we’re going to walk around dressed like them all night, I feel like we should know their deal.

  (I can’t believe I’m letting you talk me into this. Like, I actually, seriously can’t believe it, even as I’m typing this. These four-letter-L-word feelings are starting to be a PROBLEM.)

  So, I’m the cat, huh?

  Kind regards,

  LCB

  FROM: [email protected]

  TO: [email protected]

  DATE: OCT 28 AT 3:04 AM

  SUBJECT: THIS NIGHT

  All right, first of all, Bramster, your latest Instagram post is a personal attack. You in a Ravenclaw robe????? Text me a warning next time or something. You know PERFECTLY WELL I now have to drop a thirsty heart-eye emoji in your comments section (where my sisters can see it!!! THANKS A LOT). You’re just so fucking gorgeous. Sometimes I see a picture of you, and I’m like, holy shit, that’s my boyfriend. I should really make a PowerPoint with pictures of you and call it Sorry, Gents, He’s Taken. It’ll be great, I’ll make the whole world die of jealousy.

  Anyway, hope you and Garrett are having a happy Halloween weekend (which should definitely be called Halloweekend, why aren’t we doing that??) (wait, I just googled it and apparently people ARE doing it, so congrats I guess to all you Einsteins out there who made it a hashtag. Way to be a million times smarter than me). Okay, I already forgot what I’m talking about. GOD I HAVE SO MUCH TO TELL YOU, but I don’t know where to start, because I’m a liiiiiittle drunk right now. Not like cartwheels-on-Founders-Green-wearing-only-Mickey-ears-level drunk (Nude Mickey, whoever you are, you were joyful and free, and I love that for you).

  So guess what?? College is amaaaaazing. And before I forget, Kellan told me to tell you to go to Big Nick’s Pizza, because it has the best pizza and milkshakes, and this is according to his cousin Dannon Maya who (despite being named after yogurt apparently??) is a REAL New Yorker. Wait haha sorry, it’s TWO cousins, Dan AND Maya, which makes so much more sense. Needless to say, Kellan is slightly drunk and also dressed like a ventriloquist dummy (which is a plot twist I did NOT see coming . . . Kellan likes clowns and dummies!).

  But I have to tell you about tonight, Bram, and I actually kind of want to cry right now, because I’m so relieved my brain remembers how to be happy. Tonight just felt like COLLEGE. It was exactly how I’d always pictured it. I wasn’t even planning to go out, because all I had was a striped-shirt bank robber costume, aka the most basic bitch costume ever invented. But then Liza came over (can’t remember if I told you about her, but she’s our customs person. Kind of like an RA, I guess? Basically, she’s a sophomore who lives on my hall, and she’s like a big sister to our whole customs group). So Liza took me under her wing (literal wing, she was dressed like an angel) (also, she’s an ACTUAL angel!). I don’t even know how it happened, B, but I pulled Liza’s tutu on over my jeans and polo shirt, and now I’m Billy Elliot??? (“Stranger Things Ballerina Edition” was a really good guess though, props to Garrett from me!)

  So a bunch of us from my customs group ended up in this guy Jacob’s room (did I mention there are two Jacobs on my hall, plus an Isaac and a Rachel? I feel like I’m living in the Old Testament. IF ONLY WE HAD AN ABRAHAM). Anyway, it was me, both Jacobs, Liza, Kellan, Grover, and this girl Jocelyn from downstairs, and I’ve hung out with Liza and the Jacobs before (watching TV or chatting in the bathroom, that kind of thing), but I hadn’t really sat down and talked to them. So we kind of piled onto Jacob’s bed, just ranting about politics and talking about all our people from home (of course they got an EARFUL about you). And then somehow there was vodka and orange juice, and we were planning to go to the big Halloween party at Bryn Mawr, but we ended up just skipping that and going to the one at Founders Hall (which is when I left you the voicemail).

  I don’t know, it all just felt so fun and carefree. I danced with the girls for a bit, and I had this weirdly intense conversation about pandas with someone dressed like a panda (I don’t even know their name, we were in line for the bathroom). And then we were walking home, and Bram GUESS WHAT: Kellan and Grover were holding hands!!! And it turns out they’ve been together since orientation week, and I missed the memo because I’m just that fucking oblivious. Bram, this whole time, I really thought they were straight-bro BFFs. I’m literally that woman Marjorie from the train station (“I just have to say, it’s so refreshing when young men are willing to be affectionate with their friends!”). I should just turn in my gay card. I don’t even deserve to drink iced coffee at this point.

  Oh god, this email is like a whole ass novel. I’m sorry!!! I just miss you so much, honey. Babe. Sweetie. Oh my god, I legit can’t pull ANY of these off with a straight face. Are we just never going to have pet names? Darling??? I kind of love that one. It gives me Monty and Percy vibes (though truly, what does Percy see in that hot mess of a boy?). So, darling, I hope you and Garrett are having a most excellent Halloweekend. More pictures, please!!! I love you so much, Brammy Bram. Come back to Philly ASAP, okay, so we can show Marjorie somethi
ng REALLY refreshing.

  Love,

  Simon, Ballerina Edition

  FROM: [email protected]

  TO: [email protected]

  DATE: OCT 29 AT 11:29 AM

  SUBJECT: RE: THIS NIGHT

  Dear Jacques,

  Hi, darling. ☺ I very much hope you’re still sleeping. So I can’t decide if your email completely charmed me or completely wrecked me. Maybe both. The problem, Simon, is that drunk you sounds just like sleepy you, and thinking about sleepy Simon Spier is kind of a gut punch right now. Have I mentioned how much I miss your head on my pillow? I miss it the most. Especially the part where you keep nodding off while talking (which is, by the way, the exact energy of your email). Anyway, the point is, I’m hopelessly in love with my drunk mess of a boyfriend.

  (For what it’s worth, I think I know what Percy Newton sees in Henry Montague.)

  Thank you very much for the thirsty emoji (both of your sisters did indeed “heart” it, as did your mom, of course). Last night was . . . fine? Don’t get me wrong, it was a good haunted house. It just might have been a little too good (confession: I don’t really see the point of haunted houses if I can’t leave halfway through and make out with you in the back of Nick’s car). Garrett loved it, though. He’s still passed out, but I’m waking him up in a minute, since he has to get to LaGuardia by three. It was actually really awesome having him here. He caught me up on everything happening at Tech (except Morgan, because he’s still insisting nothing happened. Still!). Overall, he seems happy. It does sound like he might be having trouble keeping up with the workload (I’m not sure running away to New York for the weekend was the solution to that particular problem, but I’m trying to quiet my inner nerd and let our angel bro live).

  Oh, I’m so glad you finally got to have your College Feeling. I’m actually a little choked up over the thought of you in a tutu (wouldn’t your kid self be proud?). It just made me really happy, in the same way your rainbow shoelaces make me happy. I love watching you try on this part of yourself. You don’t have to give up a single day of iced coffee, Simon, I promise.

  Tell Kellan I say thank you for the recommendation! I can save it for when you’re here in December, if you want. I’m really glad to hear about him and Grover! I kind of suspected it when Kellan stayed in Grover’s room that whole weekend (also, you realize Kellan has a framed picture of Harvey Milk on his desk, right?). So maybe you have a touch of Marjorie in you, but don’t we all? I’m not exactly batting a thousand on this stuff either (see also: prom night).

  Anyway, I love you. And I miss every edition of you. Text me when you’re up, okay?

  Love,

  Blue

  FROM: [email protected]

  TO: [email protected]

  DATE: NOV 5 AT 10:18 AM

  SUBJECT: HELLO, I’M A GENIUS

  This just in: I, Abby Suso, have officially figured out the solution to boredom itself. Right now, I’m in Analytic Geometry and Calculus (it’s just as enthralling as it sounds), but the point is: I’m emailing you!! From Analytic Geometry and Calculus!! So, here’s the trick:

  Open up a Word doc.

  Title it “Anal GC” (god, I love abbreviations).

  Minimize it into a horizontal bar with the title showing, loud and proud.

  Open up a “compose email” window and slide that lil dude right under your Word doc.

  And . . . voilà! MOVE OVER, ANAL CALCULUS. Welcome to Emailing Love Letters to My Girlfriend 101, where class is always in session. Let’s see, what’s on the syllabus for this morning? Shall we discuss the geometric properties of our dorm room? Leah, much in the spirit of CatDog, I’d like to note the vast and complex advantages to be derived from merging two separate entities into one (wow, I sound like a lawyer prowling for sex). Okay, what I’m trying to say is we’re long overdue for some strategic furniture rearrangement.

  To be clear: I, Abby Nicole Suso, am officially proposing we push our beds together, and I will make my case below.

  Picture this: We push my bed to your side of the room, instantly freeing up almost a full wall on my side (and then we cover it with those temporary, fake white brick panels for the ultimate Pottery Barn aesthetic!!!).

  I am aware, of course, that having a single bed is a Statement. That said, us being literally incapable of being near each other without some form of physical contact is also a Statement. So maybe we just lean into the Statement?

  WE END UP IN ONE BED 90 PERCENT OF THE TIME ANYWAY, LEAH BURKE, AND YOU KNOW IT.

  I’m just saying, the analytic geometry of the situation looks pretty clear to me! (Speaking of geometry, my professor just caught my eye and gave me a satisfied nod—she is LOVING my diligent note-taking!!)

  So I forgot to tell you, I talked to Simon yesterday when you were at the library! He’s doing better, I think? I’m sure he told you about his cute weirdo roommate coming out (actually, I don’t think Kellan was ever not out, but Simon is Simon is Simon). Anyway, our boy is clearly loving having a platonic gay guy BFF, and he would like us to know that Kellan has a healthy general interest in horror and paranormal phenomena, and is not, in fact, “into clowns.” And apparently Kellan and his boyfriend talked him into going on some Philadelphia ghost tour on his birthday weekend?? (Um, I’m not the only one who remembers him and Bram at Netherworld last year, right?)

  Anyway, it’s nice to hear he’s finally hanging out more with Haverford people (oh, and I finally asked about the “customs group” thing—apparently it’s basically just his hallmates?). I don’t know, Leah, I’ve been so worried about him since fall break. Didn’t he just seem a little bit off when we saw him? I know the long-distance thing is hitting him really hard, and I think this is their longest stretch this semester without seeing each other. I wish I knew how Bram’s holding up. Did Garrett say anything when you talked to him? Can we just, like . . . text Bram and check in? Would that be weird?

  God, I don’t even know how they do it. I can barely handle your bed being across the room.

  Okay, class is ending in a second, so I’m rereading this really quickly before I send it, and hmmmmm I feel like it’s missing some critical love letter elements. Maybe more four-letter L words would help? Just a thought!!

  xoxo,

  Abby

  FROM: [email protected]

  TO: [email protected]

  DATE: NOV 5 AT 2:11 PM

  SUBJECT: RE: HELLO, I’M A GENIUS

  Okay, Suso, I’m trying out your methods in Intro to English Lit (but if you think I’m not still titling my doc “Anal GC,” you don’t even know me). Anyway, so far, so good! Question, though: Are we trying to learn any of the actual course material here, or nah?

  Well, Abigail, I’ve reviewed your proposal, and I have no objections (other than the fact that I’m clearly setting an unfortunate precedent of being easily persuaded by multipoint lists). (God, you’re going to ask me to marry you one day with a numbered fucking email list, aren’t you?) But even I have to admit that points two and three are very persuasive. Pottery Barn, though. You know you’re emailing me, right? Leah Burke? Not, like, Simon’s mom?

  Moving on to your most important question: Are you the only one who remembers Simon and Bram at Netherworld? You mean the time they both got so scared they had to be escorted, crying, out the emergency exit? I bet Simon’s going to be a real treat on that ghost tour!

  So, I knew about Kellan being gay. I’m thrilled to hear he’s not “into clowns.” (God, I’d fucking love to know how that conversation went down.) I’m really happy for Simon. And jealous, of course, because I’m a territorial asshole. But I know he deserves a gay guy best friend, too, especially one who isn’t a train ride away. I do worry about him. He’s been kind of a mess since August, hasn’t he? Garrett says Bram’s okay—he’s just kind of distracted and glued to his phone a lot. I’m sure it’s fine if we text him. The whole thing’s just a bummer. I sort of wonder if one of them should just transfer or
something. Though, Simon definitely seems more upbeat this week, so maybe I’m just being dramatic. But yeah—I don’t know how they do it either. I’d have a very hard time being that far away from you.

  God, I keep going back to what you said about us and physical contact. Not going to lie, Suso, that hit me like a brick to the face. You’re not wrong. I just didn’t really think about it until you said it. I guess it’s automatic at this point. I see your hand, and I have to hold it. Your mouth exists, so I have to kiss it.

  You know you terrify me, right?

  Sincerely,

  LCB

  FROM: [email protected]

  TO: [email protected]

  DATE: NOV 16 AT 10:02 AM

  SUBJECT: THE EDGE OF NINETEEN

  Dear Jacques,

  Well, it’s the last day of your first year of adulthood (soon to be the first day of the last year of your teens—is your head spinning yet?). I can’t believe how long I’ve known you. I can’t believe how recently I met you. My brain keeps scrolling back through all our Novembers, and I don’t know how you do it, Simon, but you make memories feel like time travel. Everything uploads in high-definition when it comes to you.

  Remember last year? Homecoming, when we didn’t dance. And Nick’s cabin afterward, when we didn’t sleep. Or November of junior year, when I told my secret email boyfriend I imagine him fantasizing about sex. (Do I remember? Simon. You know I basically stopped breathing until you replied, right?) Or sophomore year, when Ms. Warshauer announced a pop quiz about Chaucer. You told her she was the cause by which you die, and she laughed so hard she had to leave the room for ten minutes.