Chapter Eight

chapter eight

I SLEEP IN ON SATURDAY, BECAUSE I FINALLY CAN. I MAKE MYSELFeggs while Dad does an hour on his treadmill watching some gardening show. Today I am just going to enjoy myself. And fix the Harrison thing. Find him a new man. I’ve been going over the list again in my head, making sure key people were invited to Taylor’s party, but the truth is, none of them seem quite right. Maybe Jimmy broke up with his boyfriend, there was a rumor like that. And if we could get Ethan to at least use some cologne so the pot smell isn’t so overpowering… No, no, I’m doing what I did last time. I need to see them all in action. See chemistry, like Taylor said. The same way I matched her with West.

But first I need to tell Harrison it’s not happening with Clarke. I’ll do that tonight. First thing at the party, tear off the Band-Aid, so we can focus on finding him someone else.

Miles texts me to see if I want to go to the party together tonight. He volunteers to drive home so I can drink. I text him back that I will accept his generous offer, which he responds to with the laugh-crying emoji, for some reason. The rest of the day I spend going over the men some more in my head. Even though I know it’s not the right way to do it, I can’t seem to stop. So I shower, snack on some grapes, eat a quick dinner of a sandwich, and put on an excellent outfit—a very well-fitted royal-blue sweater and some gray jeans. Then I go across the street to meet Miles. He’s waiting for me, looking… odd. Lighter? Happier?

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask, approaching.

He laughs. “Nothing. What? I’m great.”

“Yes, I can tell.”

He laughs again. “So you think me being happy is bad?”

“No,” I say quickly. “I just mean… I thought maybe you were faking it for some reason, overcompensating.”

He rolls his eyes and hands me the keys to his car. “I’m great. You drive there, I’ll drive back?”

“Sure,” I say.

He cracks his knuckles, nervous.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” I say, getting behind the wheel.

“I really am.”

“Well, good,” I say, pulling out of the driveway. “Me too. Clarke isn’t interested in Harrison, but I’m going to fix it. I know what I did wrong.”

“Oh? Well, that’s great. I actually—”

“Yes. The problem is, I didn’t really look for chemistry before. That’s why I set up Taylor and West. They were so clearly into each other. And that’s what I need to look for.”

“I think you’re right. I think—”

“But the problem is, I don’t know who that could be. And I need to tell Harrison about Clarke first.”

“Oh, that’s—”

“Going to be difficult, yes.”

Miles starts laughing suddenly. And he keeps laughing enough that I turn to him at the stop sign, glaring.

“You think his heartbreak is funny?”

“No,” he says, still laughing, quickly shaking his head. “Sorry, no.” He stops laughing. “I was just laughing because I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.”

“Oh,” I say. He’s right. “Sorry. Did you have something you wanted to tell me?”

He suddenly goes still. Palpably silent. Then he shakes his head. “Just… why is this so important to you? Finding a boyfriend for Harrison. I assume things between the two of you are over, right?”

“Yes, obviously. But he’s still my friend. So I want him to be happy. I know a boyfriend isn’t for me… no.” I shake my head. “I talked about it with Taylor, and I should be more honest with myself. It’s the breakup I don’t want. The pain of that. But my friends, like Harrison and Taylor, people I care about, they’re less fragile than I am. They’re willing to risk it. They’re sturdy enough for love. And I want them to have as much of it as they can take. I want them to be flooded by it…” I let myself trail off, realizing how silly I sound. And how sincere. Because I am. It’s all I want for the people I love—Taylor, Harrison, maybe even Miles here. I want them to have as much love as they can stand. I want them to be bowled over, buried in love. I want to see them thrive in it.…“Because if I see that, maybe I’ll know I can survive it, too,” I say. I pause, waiting for him to mock me. My own fault for opening up to Miles of all people, but I suppose we are friends of a kind.

“Well, if that’s what you want…,” Miles says, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Then that’s what I want, too.” He takes a deep breath as I park across the street from Taylor’s place. “I kind of want…”

“Oh, please don’t ask me to find you a girlfriend tonight,” I say, hoping he’s not about to get all sincere, too. I think I just used up our mutual limit for the night.

He laughs. “What? No.”

“I mean, I will. But not tonight, okay?”

He laughs harder, shaking his head. “I wasn’t going to… just…”

I open the door and we get out. Miles is still laughing as we walk to the door.

Inside, Taylor has done the best she can with the decor. There are pink streamers up, and some pink eco-friendly mushroom-foam balls she’s covered in faux flowers and sprayed with opalescent paint, then hung from the ceiling in the living room in different combinations, like the flower chandeliers from the museum. They don’t quite match beige, but they distract from it, which I suppose is the best anyone can hope for. She has bottles of alcohol lined up on the side table in the living room, along with a big stack of red plastic cups. And people are already here, enjoying. I guess our lateness isn’t as fashionable as I’d hoped.

“I need to find Harrison,” I say to Miles, by way of saying I’ll see him later. I’m sure he has his own friends to mingle with. So I’m surprised when he follows me to the bar. I need a drink before I let Harrison down, but Miles is driving us back, so he shouldn’t drink.

“Just one,” he says when I raise an eyebrow at him. “I’m doing it now so it’ll be out of my system when I need to drive us home.”

“What do you even want one for?” I ask, pouring us both screwdrivers and adding a touch of grenadine and a cherry apiece. “You rarely drink.”

“Just nerves,” he says, taking his cup and toasting it with mine.

“What’s wrong with your nerves?” I ask, then drink.

He keeps drinking, and behind him, Taylor comes up to us, leading a handsome guy by the hand.

“Hey, guys,” she says, beaming at me especially. “This is West’s brother, Andre. Andre, this is Miles and Emmett. Emmett is going to Stanford next year, with you.”

I reach out my hand and smile at him. He’s even better-looking in person, the moody art student vibe, but a little cleaner, a little more cheerful. He has a wonderful smile, and as he leans in to shake my hand, I smell what I think must be ivy on him, green and fresh. Cologne, probably. Did he wear it for me? Taylor did say she’d been selling me hard.

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “Taylor and West have said so many good things.”

“About you, too,” I say, smiling.

“I’ll just let you two talk,” Taylor says, her grin so large it might pop off. “Miles, come with me, I need help in the kitchen.”

She leads Miles away and Andre smiles at me again. He’s got stubble, and the sides of his head are nearly shaved, but long natural coils are on top. “So what are you drinking?” he asks. “It’s a cool color. This room needs it.”

I laugh. “Taylor’s parents do not share her artistic eye,” I say. “And it’s just a screwdriver. A little grenadine as an excuse to put a cherry in.”

“Can I have a sip?”

I admit my body tingles a little the way he asks it, so I reach out and hand him my glass. He drinks, then hands it back.

“Nice,” he says. “Not too sweet. It’s good to be able to mix drinks in college. All the guys will love you for it.”

“Really? That easy?”

“Well, that and you’re good-looking.”

I laugh. “I’m sure many people at Stanford are good-looking, if present company is an example.”

“Oh no,” he says. “I’m the exception. Handsomest one there.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, we took a vote and everything.”

“And yet you’re hitting on me, a mere high school senior.”

“Well, like I said, no one else there is very good-looking.”

I laugh. “So, what do you study there?”

“Architecture. I just did a study abroad actually.”

“So you and West both have a love of art, just different.”

“Exactly.” He sips his drink again, his lips wet against the rim of the cup, and I’m about to say something else, keep the banter going, but behind him, I see the front door open, and Clarke walks in. I manage not to frown, in case Andre misinterprets it, but then Clarke drags in another guy. They’re holding hands. He looks familiar, like maybe I’ve seen him on KamerUhh.

I need to find Harrison. This will devastate him. Clarke is so tacky doing this, too, trying to prove something, maybe. He sees me and waves, his hand still linked with the other boy’s, his face somehow triumphant, nasty. I smile back.

“I need to go find a friend,” I tell Andre. “I’m so sorry, impending social disaster.”

“I remember high school,” he says. “You’ll come back?”

“Yes,” I say, throwing him a real smile before turning around and looking for Harrison. I can’t believe I’ve been flirting with some college boy instead of looking for him. I’m a terrible friend.

I spot him on the sofa, talking to one of the girls from the environmental club. He’s holding a glass but spilling it a little. How many has he had?

“… so I just say you should use three times the amount,” the girl is saying. “Then the next one tastes better.”

“It does!” Harrison says, excitedly, his drink sloshing again. I sigh—maybe this will make it easier. “Emmett!” he says, suddenly noticing me, thrilled. “This is Lindsey, she made me some drinks, she’s got this whole philosophy about alcohol, and I think, I think she might be onto something.”

“Could be,” I say, smiling politely at Lindsey. “Could I borrow you for a moment? We need to talk.”

“All right,” he says, getting up, then almost falling back onto the sofa, then pushing himself up by the armrest. “Can you believe this is my first time drinking anything other than wine at Passover?”

“I actually can,” I say, taking him by the arm and leading him out of the living room and upstairs. I see Clarke in the kitchen and block Harrison from seeing him as we pass by. There’s a guest bedroom up here no one ever goes in, and I drag him into that.

“Whoa now, Emmett,” he says, smiling at the bed. “I’m trying to date Clarke now, remember? We have a deal. Did you see his KamerUhh video last night?” He pulls out his phone. “That Speedo again. He is so hot.”

“Listen,” I say, sitting him down on the bed. I look at him. He’s smiling, innocent, sweet. He’s handsome, too, and a nice guy. Clarke is really a fool.

I swallow. I need to tell him. “That’s what we need to talk about. I’m afraid Clarke isn’t really interested in you.” Tear off the Band-Aid.

His face looks confused, but then it ripples, turning down, his smile slouching.

“Oh,” he says, finally.

“He’s a narcissist, more interested in KamerUhh views than actual looks or personality.”

“I don’t have enough followers to date?” He looks up at me, and his eyes are watery. “I didn’t think that mattered. I would have been more…”

“It doesn’t!” I put my hands on his shoulders. “Only to Clarke, and you can do better.”

“I really liked him,” he says, crying for real now.

I wrap my arms around him and let him cry for a little. He hugs me back.

“Am I unattractive?” he whispers, still hugging me.

“No, not at all,” I say. “Otherwise I never would have…”

“I don’t feel attractive right now.” He pulls back. His eyes are red, a little bleary, but he makes himself smile, which is good. “Can you make me feel attractive?” He leans forward and kisses me, and for a moment, I kiss him back before pulling away.

“Harrison, no, you’re drunk, and you made me promise not to do this anymore, because you want a real boyfriend.”

“I want you,” he says, putting his hand on my thigh. “I want to feel you again. I want you to tell me I’m hot.”

“You are hot.”

“Then come on,” he says, his hand drifting farther up my leg. “I’m horny and lonely and I’ve just been rejected because I’m not online enough.”

“You want a boyfriend,” I say, trying to keep my tone sympathetic. “And you’re drunk and rejected and confused. It’s emotionally messy.”

“It was messy from day one, Emmett. We have sex, you seem to like me, and I like you, maybe had feelings for you, but you won’t date, so you try to find me a boyfriend who doesn’t want me.… It’s already messy, Emmett. It’s always been messy.”

He maybe had feelings for me. I suspected it, of course, but I really didn’t want him to say it. I didn’t want to have to be the bad guy who likes him back but… not like that.

“Oh.” He leans back, closing his eyes. “I just said something.”

“No you didn’t,” I say quickly, erasing it. “And you don’t have to worry. I actually already have another guy in mind for you.”

His eyes open and he looks at me, confused. “You do?”

“He’s perfect, trust me.” Handsome, flirty, sincere, probably has chemistry with everyone. He’s exactly what Harrison needs. He can take care of Harrison.

“Then why didn’t you set me up with him?”

“I just met him,” I say, standing up. True, it means giving up Andre myself, but that’s for the best, too, because I don’t want to break my no romance before twenty-five rule. I was never going to. It’s much better this way.

“All right,” Harrison says, a little dazed. He stands. He’s less wobbly.

I lead him back downstairs and pour him a cup of iced coffee from the fridge (Taylor didn’t put it out, but this is an emergency and it’s me) and make him down it, then a glass of water.

“You feeling better?” I ask.

“Well, I’ve still been rejected for not being online enough and confessed I caught feelings for my former fuckbuddy turned matchmaker, so I’m not sure I like how much more aware of all that I am, because it’s mortifying, but I feel less drunk.”

“Seriously,” I say, brushing his hair out of his face. “Forget what you told me. You don’t even like me that much.”

He laughs. “No?”

“No. You just think you do, because I’m good-looking and nice.”

“That’s a good start.”

“You deserve more.”

He looks at me, surprised, and then he frowns a little. “Emmett,” he starts, but then he closes his mouth for a moment, reconsidering. “Thanks.”

“You’re my friend. It’s my pleasure. Now come meet Andre.”

I bring him into the living room, where Andre is chatting with Taylor and West. He looks up and sees me so I march Harrison in front of me, over to them.

“Andre, this is Harrison. Harrison, Andre. Harrison, Andre studies architecture. You like buildings, right?”

“Oh yeah,” Harrison says. “I like tall ones.”

Over his shoulder, Taylor glares at me.

“Emmett, will you help me in the kitchen?” she asks.

“Sure,” I say. “You two keep chatting,” I tell them. Andre shoots me a confused look as I walk after Taylor. She turns the moment we get to the kitchen, her hand slamming down on the counter.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, all innocence.

“Emmett. We’re best friends and have been for years. Andre said you two really hit it off, and now you’re marching Harrison in front of him while Clarke strolls around with his new boyfriend. Did you not like Andre?”

“I like him a lot,” I say. “But he’s boyfriend material. I don’t want a boyfriend, remember?”

“You don’t want…” She sighs. “That’s not what you said.”

“It’s what I’m saying now,” I say, sticking my chin out.

Her mouth turns into a hard line and she folds her arms. “Fine. If you really don’t want a boyfriend, then fine.”

“I don’t,” I say, frowning. “And I don’t think it’s nice of you to get angry at me for it.”

“I’m angry at you for lying. You do want a boyfriend. I’ve seen the way you look at West and me. You practically said so last night. And now you’re… what, changing your mind?”

I sigh and look at the counter. There’s a bottle of tequila someone has conveniently moved here. No cups, though, so I march over to the cabinet and take out a plastic glass, and pour myself a shot. I swirl it in my glass before downing it.

“I admit,” I say, still looking at the glass, “I sometimes feel a little… lonely. We used to spend a lot of time together, and now you spend it with West, and I’m so happy for you and wouldn’t change that for anything. But that’s all you’re seeing.”

“Emmett.” She puts her hand on my wrist and I look up. “You know I love you. You know we’ll be friends forever, you told me so. That’s not what it is. I don’t know if you really think that’s what it is, and I’ll drop it if you want, but last night… you said you wanted someone to kiss in the snow. You don’t want that now?”

I think about kissing in the snow again, snowflakes on eyelashes, lips on lips. I shake my head. Harrison needs this more than I do. He deserves it more. “If I did want that, and maybe sometimes I do… not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because our brains aren’t—”

“I know that line. Why not? For real?” She squeezes my wrist.

“Because it’s more likely to end. And if it ends I’ll…” I swallow. That tequila hit me. “… be distracted,” I finish. It wasn’t what I was really going to say. But it’s true enough. “And then I won’t get into med school.”

“That’s why?” Her eyes search me. “Because like I said, a breakup isn’t going to be like losing your mom.…”

I shake my head, and she goes quiet. She knows I’m holding back. She knows this isn’t even about my mom, not exactly. It’s about my dad. But I don’t want to say anything else out loud. It’s a cruel thought. I hate that it even came into my mind.

“I don’t want a breakup. The reason isn’t important.”

“All right.” She shrugs. “But I don’t know if Harrison is a good fit for Andre.”

“Andre is gone in a few weeks; he was just flirting because he wants a holiday hookup. I’m sure anyone will do, and Harrison is wonderful.”

“Yeah, but does Harrison only want a few weeks?”

“Oh, hi, Emmett,” comes a voice loudly from the kitchen entrance. I look up and see Clarke still holding hands with his date. I wonder if they’re surgically attached or if Clarke simply won’t let him let go. “This is July,” he introduces the man. He’s cute, with floppy brown hair, gray eyes. “He goes by HottestMonth on KamerUhh? He’s got nine thousand followers.”

“That’s great,” I say, smiling and shaking HottestMonth’s free hand. It’s limp, the way a dog hangs its tail between its legs. “How nice to meet you.”

“Emmett only has like seven thousand,” Clarke says, inaccurately. “You should follow him, babe, he needs the likes.”

“Oh, no need. But I’m so glad to meet you. Clarke deserves you,” I say.

HottestMonth grunts a little and nods. I’m not sure he speaks at all.

“Let’s get back to the living room,” I tell Taylor. “I need a mixer for my next drink.” She nods. “Nice meeting you,” I say, smiling, as we leave Clarke and his date alone.

Except they follow us. Well, Clarke does, dragging HottestMonth with him. I try to ignore them as we head back to Harrison, Andre, and West, who have been joined by Miles.

“It’s a really fun exhibit,” Harrison is saying. “Pretty.”

“It’s interesting how they try to decolonialize him, but they fail, of course,” West says. “But how could they not, right? Still, the final part, where you can take elements and rearrange them—it lets you do to his work what he did to these landscapes and it’s pretty cool.”

“You’re back,” Andre says as we enter the circle. “They’re telling me about this weird art exhibit. Apparently everyone loves it, and I should see it.”

“You should,” I say. “Just bring a helmet—lots of falling debris.”

“What?”

“Oh,” Clarke says, butting into the circle behind us. “And this is Harrison. He’s not, like, in our league at all, follower-wise,” he says to HottestMonth.

“Really?” I say to Clarke. I glance over at Harrison, who’s looking at the floor.

“Clarke, go away,” Miles says. “You want to bring some guy to a party, fine. But now you’re being intentionally cruel, and that’s just tacky.”

Clarke rolls his eyes. “Oh, whatever.”

I almost want to punch him.

“Clarke, no one here wants to talk to you,” Miles says, sounding tired.

Clarke actually sneers, his grip on HottestMonth’s hand going white. He’s really angry, but I don’t know if he’ll stop without a reason, so I slip my phone out and start recording him from my hip.

“Hey,” Andre says in a soft voice to Harrison. “Let’s go to the kitchen and get another drink. I think there’s tequila in there.”

“Yeah,” Harrison says.

Andre links his arm with Harrison and leads him away, while the rest of us glare at Clarke.

“Don’t be an asshole to my friends ever again,” Miles says.

“Or what?” Clarke says. “He was an asshole to me first,” he says, nodding at me.

“What?” I glare. “I just told you I wasn’t interested.…”

“Yeah, because you wanted to set me up with that loser.”

“You said your followers want you with a boyfriend,” I say, hoping he’ll go on about using them for prestige again. “Harrison is—”

“Oh please, as if my vapid followers would want to see me make content with some nerd. You know I’m better than that. I need genuine likes, not pity likes.”

“You misinterpreting things isn’t my fault, Clarke,” I say, the tequila in me making my voice a little less than nice. “And as to your question: Or what? If you bother Harrison again, I’ll simply post this video of you calling your followers vapid.” I hold up my phone. “Tell me, how do you think that’ll affect your follower count? Or make people view your new couple’s content?” I let my eyes run down his arm to where it meets HottestMonth’s. He’s pulling away now, but Clarke’s grip is iron.

“It’s funny you even care about KamerUhh views anyway,” Miles adds, that superior smirk playing on his lips. “I thought all the real influencers moved to VDO months ago. KamerUhh is what my mom uses.”

Clarke’s mouth opens like he’s been slapped, and for a moment, he’s silent, and I let myself smile. Then he lifts his nose in the air and sneers at each of us in turn. “This party sucks anyway,” he says before marching out, dragging poor HottestMonth with him.

“Damn,” West says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Miles or Emmett go all mama bear like that before.”

Taylor laughs. “Last year he punched a freshman who called me an… impolite word.”

“I didn’t punch him,” I say quickly. “I simply made a fist and a face, and that was scary enough to him that he backed up and tripped on the pavement. Hit his head.”

“The face you made was like being punched,” Taylor says. “I saw it. If you ever made it at me, I’d fall backward, too.”

“Well, you don’t ever have to worry about that,” I say quickly, taking her hand and kissing it. “I love you. I love all of you. Even you, Miles.”

“Yeah?” Miles asks, smiling weirdly. “Well, then hopefully you won’t hate me when I tell you something.…” He takes a deep breath, then starts laughing. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” he says, shaking his head, staring at the ground, still laughing. “I mean… it’s you, all of you, so… I’m into guys—I’m queer.”

For a moment, it’s like all the sound in the room has gone out in a burst of static. I smile. I’m happy for him. That’s what a nice person would feel.

“Oh, honey!” Taylor says, immediately giving him a hug. “I’m so happy for you. It’s way cooler.”

I watch them hug, Taylor so joyful for him, but for some reason, my whole body is ice.

How could he not tell me? He’s been my friend for years. He saw me come out. He could have… we could have… I take a deep breath. No. I won’t make this all about me. That’s not nice. He’s a condescending asshole, but he’s my friend, too, my oldest friend, and now he just did the thing I know, I know, is scary even when it shouldn’t be. So I reach out and give him a hug, too.

“Welcome to the club,” I say. It’s lame, but for some reason, I can’t think of anything right to say. Anything perfect. And I still feel… shocked. Fooled, maybe. Like I’ve been missing something right under my nose for years.

“Thanks,” he says. He takes another deep breath, wipes his eyes. “I know it’s not a big deal. I mean, I have two moms. But… like… yeah. It’s scary!”

“It is,” Taylor says. “But now it’s awesome.” She raises her glass.

“Yeah,” Miles says. “It kinda is. I was waiting for my mom to get back to tell her, so I could tell them together, first, in person. That felt important. And now… I’ve told you guys.”

“You should tell everyone,” West says. “I mean, I can’t welcome you to the club, but I can say it’s awesome being yourself, right?” He reaches out and gives Miles a hug.

“Thanks,” Miles says. “But you’re right. I gotta tell everyone. I mean, I will. I don’t want to hide it or anything, it’s just… a lot of people. So don’t feel like it’s a secret. You can tell anyone.”

“Ooooh, get the gay gossip out?” Taylor asks. “Then we’d better tell Georgia. She’s over there—come on.” She links her arm through Miles’s and offers her other to me.

“I’m actually going to go get more tequila,” I say, keeping my voice cheerful. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

I turn around and walk to the kitchen. Why do I feel… off? A little sick? I think about those blood tests again. I’ll ask Dad to run something more comprehensive tomorrow. Just in case. Blood tests don’t spot a lot of things. You need a full genetic workup. Someone needs to study every cell. Find out what’s wrong with me. Why I’m not happy for my friend.

In the kitchen, Harrison is grinning, talking to Andre, who’s leaning over him, flirty. Harrison glances over at me and nods, and I pour myself another shot of tequila and drink it. Then pour myself another. Then I head back to the living room, so I don’t look unsupportive. Because I’m not. Of course I’m not. I just must be coming down with something.

By the time I get back to them, Georgia is hugging Miles so tight it looks like his head might pop off. I smile. Because he’s happy and out now, and I’m happy for him. This weird pit in my chest, both like there’s a hole in me and like the hole is heavier than lead—that’s something else, something wrong with me, a stomach bug maybe. I’m nice. I’d never feel anything but happy for Miles.

“Fuck,” Georgia is saying as I approach. “John is going to be so sad he missed this. If he didn’t meet someone in Paris, I’m totally setting you two up.” My stomach churns a little.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Miles says, pulling away. “I know John, I don’t think he’s really my type.”

Georgia laughs and slaps him on the shoulder. “That’s hilarious. I’m just so happy for you, though. You have to join the Queer Alliance.”

“Yeah.” Miles nods at that. “Maybe I will.” He looks over at me, and I smile brightly, but he flinches and looks away. I feel angry. Why do I feel angry? I should definitely make sure Dad tests my blood… well, after the alcohol is out of my system. Tomorrow. Because something is wrong.

I sidle up next to Taylor and we watch Georgia coo some more before hugging Miles again.

“I’m just so happy for you,” she says. “Welcome.” I think she’s on the verge of tears. She’s genuinely so happy for him. Why aren’t I? I go back to the kitchen and get more tequila, and as I pour myself another drink, I spot Andre handing his phone to Harrison, who enters his number. That should make me feel good, too, it’s what I wanted, right? A nice guy for Harrison. I do a shot and pour myself another. The world is a little softer now. I don’t usually drink that much but I know the signs, so I have some water, to stave off a hangover. I don’t mind the tipsiness. Everyone is entitled to feel a little more at ease from time to time. Dad deals with his anxieties by taking my blood. Me drinking a little too much is surely healthier than that.

“Did you see?” Harrison says, suddenly next to me. “He asked for my number!”

“I saw,” I say, grinning. “I’m so happy for you.”

“I mean, I know he’s only here for break, but he seems really nice.”

“Yeah, I thought you’d like him.” I put my hand on the counter. The room is swaying a little.

“You all right?” He glances at my hand, and then at the plastic cup I’m holding.

“I’m great. Miles came out! Did you hear?”

“What?” His eyes go wide. “I need to go congratulate him. I mean, I know you don’t like him much, but he’s always been so nice to me.”

“Of course,” I say. “And I don’t not like him… I mean… don’t say that. We’ve been friends forever. He’s just annoying.”

“Oh yeah. That’s all I mean. I just mean… not like you used to, right?”

My eyebrows rise. “No, not like that. This doesn’t reinvigorate the old crush or anything. Dating him would be like asking to be lectured constantly. Do you like him like that?”

He shrugs. “I mean, he’s hot, and I think he’s really sweet. But I like Andre, and he has my number now, so…” He shakes his head. “Besides, Clarke is one thing, but I’m totally out of Miles’s league, right?”

“You can have any man you want,” I say, and swallow, because I believe it, I just don’t want him to like Miles that way. It feels… uncomfortable. Icky. I’ve slept with Harrison, I don’t want Miles sleeping with him, too.

He grins. “You’re such a good friend to me, Emmett.” He reaches out and squeezes my hand. “Even after what a wreck I was before. Thank you.”

“Of course,” I say.

“I’m going to go congratulate him.”

He walks out just as Georgia comes in and pours herself a drink. She looks over at me, squinting.

“So… Miles. How are you feeling about that?” she asks, sipping from her drink.

“Great, of course,” I say. “So happy for him.”

“Well, yeah, but… I mean, John came out like… six months after I did? But we were friends before that. And I remember I felt a little, like… angry. Because we could have gone through it together. Because I’d trusted him with it but he hadn’t trusted me yet.”

I nod. I do sort of feel that way, but I’m not going to tell her that. “Well, I’m just happy for him. Maybe I had a little too much to drink.”

“I’m sure that’s it.”

“And it’s not like we’re that close anymore. He got all condescending.”

Georgia laughs. “Sure. He’s definitely the condescending one.” She sips her drink. “Have some water,” she says. “And I know you’re happy for him, really. It’s just… you’re allowed to feel lots of stuff, and if you want to talk to someone about it, you can talk to me, you know. That’s all I’m saying. You don’t have to have the perfect reaction all the time with me.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you saying I’m not perfect?”

She laughs. “I would never. You’re just so used to knowing everything, being in control… and now you’re drunk and someone surprised you! It’s like you’re Opposite Emmett.”

“You’re right,” I say. She is. That makes perfect sense. “You’re really right. Sometimes I don’t handle surprise as well as I could. Or lack of control.”

“Have some water, then.” She takes my cup and fills it from the tap. “You look a little green.”

“It’s the lighting,” I say.

She laughs and walks away.

I drink some water as she leaves and watch the rest of the party come in and out of the kitchen. It’s a good party. At some point, someone turns on some music, and I dance with Taylor and have a rum and Coke, and pretty soon I’m feeling fine again. Harrison was right—tequila is not for me. Miles is queer, and I’m happy for him. Harrison and Andre hit it off, and I’m happy for them. It’s a good night for everyone. Everything is going great.

I’m sad when Miles taps me on the shoulder as I’m swaying to the music and asks if I want to go. I know he’s my ride, but part of me just wants to crash here. But then I look over at Taylor and West making out very passionately on the sofa and realize everyone else is gone already, so yes, it’s probably time we leave, too.

“Bye,” I say to Taylor and West, who ignore me, still embracing passionately. Suddenly the pink foam balls from the ceiling fall, one ball pulling another down, and another, like falling dominoes, cascading around them like a spring shower. They don’t even notice. Definitely time to leave.

Outside the air is fresh and smells like palm trees, green and watery, and I feel so loose, so fluid. I get in the car and lie back in the passenger seat as Miles drives us home.

“You have a good time?” Miles asks. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink so much.”

“Midterms and the carnival,” I say. “I deserved a rest.”

“Okay.” He takes a turn. The streets are empty, dark. “Nothing to do with me then, right?”

“What?” I ask, staring at my reflection in the window.

“I just mean, you seemed kind of weird when I came out. Maybe I’m imagining it.”

“It’s not all about you, Miles,” I say. It comes out meaner than I meant, so I laugh, to cover the tone up, but it just makes the silence that follows more awkward. “I mean, I was surprised. Why didn’t you ever tell me? When I was going through all my coming-out stuff… it would have been nice to go through it with a friend.”

I look over at him, and he smiles a little, his eyes on the road. “Now who’s making it all about him?”

“Well, you asked,” I say. “I just mean… it was kind of lonely until I met Taylor. And now it feels like it didn’t have to be.”

“I didn’t know,” he says. “If I could have made you less lonely, you know I would have.”

“You didn’t know?” I ask.

“Yeah. I guess I didn’t really have any sort of… anything for people. Like, I liked people, and I pictured myself getting married one day, and all that, but there was never a person. Just an idea, and the sexy parts… I didn’t feel them very strongly? And then one day, I’m looking at this guy, and he says something. Something kind of weird and kind and annoying, and right in that moment, I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to put my mouth on his and bring his body close and… well, a lot of other things after that. It was almost out of nowhere? Not really, when I think back on it. But also sort of? It’s hard to explain.”

“So there’s one guy,” I say.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll feel that for another guy someday, or a girl, or someone nonbinary. But clearly, I’m not straight.”

“So are you going to tell the guy?”

He laughs. “No. No, no, no.”

“Why not?”

“He wouldn’t like it.”

I sit up. “Did you fall for a straight guy?”

He stares at the road a moment. “Let’s not get into it.”

I laugh. “Don’t worry. We’ve all been there. Straight-boy crushes are the worst.” I remember mine—on Miles. So I guess it wasn’t as much of a straight-boy crush as I thought.

He pulls the car in in front of his place and shakes his head. He looks over at me, and I remember why I had a crush on him, too. He’s hot.

“You know,” I say. “If you want, since you’re new to all this, I could show you the ropes?”

“Ropes?” he asks.

“Sexually,” I say. “Just for fun. I know I’m not your straight guy. But you can imagine I am, I don’t care.”

His face goes flat, like I’ve insulted him, and I frown.

“Wow,” I say, “okay, sorry.”

“I just… that’s not for me, Emmett.”

“I just thought we could have some fun, you could learn some things for when you have a boyfriend, sorry.”

“I’m just not… I’m a romantic, Emmett. I think I’m demisexual. You know? I only really feel for a guy when we’ve clicked emotionally.”

“Sure,” I say. “And we’ve been friends how long?”

“You know that’s not how it works.” He sighs. “Emmett, you don’t even like me. You call me condescending behind my back.”

I clench my jaw. I wonder who told him that.

“Your voice isn’t as quiet as you think it is,” he says, as if he hears me asking it.

“Well, it’s not like you like me, either,” I say, opening the door of the car. “You’ve always made that very clear.” I hop out onto the driveway.

“That’s not true,” he says, “And I just told you something major and… come on, get back in the car, we’ll talk.”

He’s right. He did just reveal something. And I’m happy for him, I am, but… this has been a long time coming. “I’m happy for you,” I say, turning around. “But let’s just call this what it is. Ex-friends whose families are close. It’s fine. We can be civil like we always have been. I won’t make my dad stop seeing your moms. I don’t think he could.…” I take a deep breath. “I’ll see you later, Miles.”

I close the car door and walk across the street to my place. Inside, the lights are out. Dad is already asleep. So I go up to my room, get in the shower, and for some reason, I cry for a while.