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And it had worked. We’d gone to every prom, every party, every double date together. We’d even been voted homecoming king and queen. (He’d kissed me on the cheek since everyone now knew we “didn’t like PDA.”)

After all this time... Stefon was more than my fake boyfriend. He was my best friend.

But now everything was changing. And that scared the crap out of me.

“What if we extended our agreement, just for the summer?” I asked.

He raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“My mom’s already planning our joint going-away party. And if I come out and they take it badly, I’d just be stuck in the house with them all summer. It sounds like literal hell.”

He took a breath, his shoulders rising and falling. “You don’t want to start dating? See who’s out there? I know there are apps—maybe we can meet someone from LA or even Elmbrooke?”

“You want to start dating?” I asked, stunned.

He reached over and held my hand. It felt just as brotherly as ever. “The last four years have been great, doing everything with my best friend, but I’m tired of putting that part of my life on hold. I want to see what’s out there.”

Fear scrabbled at my stomach. Because if Stefon stopped being my boyfriend, if he started dating boys, that would only lead to questions from my parents.

Questions I wasn’t ready to answer.

“Please, Stef. Just a few more weeks.”

He hesitated.

My stomach sank. “Please. You can date someone else, meet someone else. But please don’t tell our parents yet. Not until we’re leaving, okay?”

He let out a sigh, then nodded. “For you.”

A corner of my lip twitched into an echo of a smile. I had a deadline. But I knew, when it came time, I still wouldn’t be ready.

“Come on,” he said, getting out of the trunk. “Let’s go get some ice cream.”

Three

Xiomara

Waldo’s Dinerwas just as crowded as I thought it would be. My friends and I shouldered past all the people walking out and scanned the diner for an open booth that would seat the five of us.

That’s right. Five.

As in, I was the fifth wheel, and everyone else was coupled up.

Usually I didn’t mind being single, but times like these, I really wished I had someone. If only so I didn’t get stuck sitting in a chair at the end of the table while the others cuddled up next to each other and held hands.

I wished I could have someone there with me to at least take up another seat. But there we were, sliding into a booth and borrowing a chair from another table so I’d have somewhere to sit. It didn’t help that my size meant I was halfway in the aisle and constantly apologizing to people walking by.

I apologized to another person and then turned back to my friends. Ronnie held out her phone with a picture of a girl on the screen and said, “What do you think of her?”

I raised my eyebrows. “That she’s blond?”

“And pretty, right?” she said.

Now I was getting suspicious. “Why?”

“We made you a dating profile. I filtered it to only people who say they’re eighteen or younger.”

I reached out and pushed her phone down to the table. “No.”