1. Ellis

CHAPTER 1

ELLIS

As soon as we've said our goodbyes to our parents and pulled out of our driveway, Elliot starts in on me. He hasn't left me alone since he found out that Huntston University's "Howler" app has a meetup function for new students to make friends. According to some of the older members of the baseball team, it's basically just used as a hookup app and not always for its intended purpose of giving campus news and class updates to students.

"I downloaded the Howler meetup app last night," he says in a sing-song voice. "I got like five immediate matches."

"You know, I honestly thought the long-distance thing was going to take at least a month to fizzle out," I say, rolling my eyes. He throws a balled-up napkin at me, and it lands on the screen of the tablet Mom and Dad got me for graduation. I flick it away and continue doodling on the sketch I've been playing with, ignoring my brother.

He ignores my jab about his longtime girlfriend, who is going to an all-Women's college two hours from Huntston University. "There's a lot of gay stuff in the forums."

"You wanna turn around and have this conversation with our parents? Because I'm pretty sure they'll be surprised if you're coming out."

"Very funny," he says. "I was looking for you, obviously."

We pull into Gabe's apartment complex, where Gabe is waiting with his bags and a few boxes. Elliot parks awkwardly across several open spaces, and I get out to crawl into the back seat so the besties can gossip and leave me alone.

"You don't even have to use your real name," Elliot continues. The trailer door slams loudly, and Gabe hugs his mom before opening the passenger side door.

"Can we talk about this later?" I say to Elliot in a hushed voice as Gabe climbs into the front seat.

"Got everything?" Elliot greets Gabe with a complex handshake they made up when we were eight. They're ridiculous, but people who don't have to witness it every day think it's the best thing. Entire stands of people cheer every time they meet each other between the pitcher's mound and home plate before games.

"Locked and loaded," he answers, ending the sequence of handshake moves with an explosion and a finger gun at me. "Little E."

I lift my chin in a quick nod, but don't look up. With eight hours of driving ahead of us, it's better that I don't start the trip by telling Gabe off for calling me Little E . If I'm quiet enough, I can fade into the background. Eventually, they'll forget I'm here and when they start talking about girls or baseball too much, I've got headphones and a playlist of angry rock music to drown them out with.

We all wave at Gabe's mom, who is blowing her nose on the front steps of their apartment building, as Elliot carefully pulls away. She gives us a watery smile and yells for Gabe to call when we arrive at the campus .

Sometimes I feel a little irritated that Elliot somehow inherited control of the vehicle our parents bought us for our sixteenth birthday, but on days like today, I'm thankful he's the one driving. I'm not sure I'd trust myself to manage pulling the small trailer we have hitched behind the Jeep through the tight parking lot of Gabe's apartment complex.

"So, what are we talking about?" Gabe asks, and I fight the urge to groan. One minute into an eight-hour drive, and I'm already done.

"I'm trying to get Ellis to download Howler," Elliot says.

"Isn't that basically just a glorified campus hookup app?"

Elliot shrugs. "If he's going to be out in college, he might as well go big. Join a campus pride group, start meeting people." He makes eye contact with me through the rearview mirror, ignoring my pleading expression for him to stop talking. "You can't hide behind your sketchbooks forever. Now's your chance to shine, little bro."

"I'm two minutes older than you," I remind him. "And I don't need you to help me hook up with guys."

Elliot scoffs.

Gabe turns around to look at me, eyebrows raised. "You're coming out?"

My face heats. "I'm already out," I grumble.

"To us," he says, as if I came out to him personally. My brother told him, of course. "But you weren't out at school."

"And yet, everyone seemed to know anyway."

He's perfectly aware of the rumors and teasing I was subjected to throughout middle and high school. After I officially came out to my family, Elliot doubled down on threatening anyone who talked shit about my sexuality, but Gabe never cared as much. The only time he ever reacted was when their teammates ribbed him about if I tried to get in his pants whenever he spent the night at our house, which was often enough that we called our guest room Gabe's room. All he did was joke back that I'd be too afraid of his huge dick.

"I'd rather not make a big deal out of it. I just want to blend into the crowd. I'm not trying to attract attention."

"Not sure you're going to be able to avoid that, pretty boy. You're basically jailbait."

"Good thing we're going to college and not prison then," I retort, pretending to dig through my bag again to hide how red my face is turning.

Gabe has always loved giving me shit about being "too pretty". It embarrasses the hell out of me, because I get so flustered. No matter how much my brain tells me he doesn't mean it as a compliment, it heats my blood. Every time the word "pretty" leaves his mouth, the breath leaves my chest. It's mortifying how much he affects me. Luckily, both Gabe and Elliot are either too dumb or too obsessed with each other to notice.

There's a long enough silence that I think I've safely shut down the conversation. Chancing a glance toward the front seat, I'm relieved to see that Gabe is no longer turned around to look at me. He's facing my brother now, with a strange expression on his face. My eyebrows draw in, wishing I could read his mind whenever I can see the gears spinning like that. Gabe isn't as dumb as people make him out to be.

"You seriously think it's a good idea?" he asks my brother.

I scoff. "Why do you care?"

"What could it hurt?" Elliot says. "I'm just trying to help him have a better college experience than high school. "

"So you're totally okay with some rando trying to get his dick into your little brother?"

"For the love of God, STOP!" I shout. "First of all, stop talking about me like I'm not right fucking here. Second, I'm not his little brother. Third, and most importantly, I don't need nor want your help or opinions about anything. I can take care of myself. And whether or how I decide to meet people or let any randos dick me down is none of your goddamn business."

"We're just trying to watch out for you?—"

"I don't need you to watch out for me!" I snap. "This is exactly why I didn't want to come to Huntston, Elliot."

I'm only following them to Huntston because Mom and Dad bribed me to get through one year. If I keep up my grades and manage at least one extra-curricular group or activity, they're going to let me try art school in New York.

"If you don't let me do my own thing, no one is going to realize that I'm perfectly capable of being on my own. I don't need you to take care of me, and I don't need you to fight my battles. What I need is for you to get off my ass."

The car is silent for several moments before Gabe smacks Elliot on the shoulder.

"Yeah man, get off his ass, so someone else can get on it!"

Jesus fucking Christ. One year, I tell myself. One year.