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Amused lines form around Emir’s eyes.

“So, this is, um, me and you?” Sebastian pauses. “I’m allowed to call you my…”

It’s just one word. His brain isn’t used to referring to someone as his boyfriend. Maybe he wants to be okay with it. He’s already done the hard part, coming out to his family, defining what love is to him.

He can do this.

But Emir must sense his intent, because he brushes his mouth over Sebastian’s. He whispers, “Just call me Emi, okay?”

Lips still resting near Emir’s, Sebastian says, “Emi.”

His heart does acrobatics. Emir flashes this toothy smile that has been all for Sebastian since forever. So, he kisses Emir.

Five minutes later, slightly out of breath, Sebastian says, “I have no idea what I want to do after graduation.” If he’s going to do it, he might as well shed all his secrets.

Emir circles his arms around Sebastian’s neck. “College? Pros? Stripper?”

Sebastian snorts. He wiggles his eyebrows, and Emir quickly protests, “I’m not sharing you with anybody.”

“That’s good to know.”

The low-burning candles shine light across their faces. Sebastian slides a hand up Emir’s spine. “What about New York?” he asks. “I don’t have a plan, but if the pros don’t work out, maybe coaching?”

“Good idea. You’re getting better at that.”

“I’ve got a lot of practice with a stubborn player.”

“New York sounds good.”

“Yeah?”

Emir’s cold fingertips press Sebastian’s nape. His warm breath brushes Sebastian’s cheek. “We could make do.”

Sebastian almost loses focus. Emir’s thumb rubs that soft spot behind his ear, and Sebastian cranes his head back.We. Emir said “we,” and Sebastian has to be sure. Emir’s shy expression is confirmation enough.

“I’ve applied for a scholarship, and my parents have found some good deals on apartments,” Emir says. “The Village?”

It takes a second before Sebastian comprehends: Emir is askinghim. “Yes” slips from his mouth. And then he kisses Emir, again. It’s not perfect. Sebastian doesn’t care, because nothing about them has ever been perfect. But it’s soft, and he settles into the shape of Emir’s mouth, slow-building toward incredible.

“Finally!”

It’s Willie hollering, followed by wolf-whistles and laughter. In the bleachers, the whole team is either making dramatic kissy faces or gagging like total assholes.

Sebastian loves them. He loves that Emir hides his face in the crook of Sebastian’s neck, earning them a few more catcalls, before Emir owns his abashment. Sebastian loves that Zach is arm in arm with Jack.

Charlie screams, “Get it, Hughes!”

“I got it all on video,” yells Grey, shaking her cell in the air. She’s hip to hip with Willie, and Mason is leaning into her. Huh. That might work out.

A quiet coolness settles in Sebastian. He hasn’t figured it all out yet. But an entire season is ahead of him. And then graduation.

There’s still time.

The future is only grim because people see it that way. It’s unpredictable. Life is a summer storm of insecure thoughts. There’s an umbrella of precautions to prevent insecurity, but it doesn’t always keep the rain out of your face.

Besides, over the summer, Sebastian’s learned that he doesn’t mind the rain. Good things happen in the rain. It’s great for scrimmages and sleeping in and accidental kisses with the one person you think hates you most.

Right now, the future can kiss Sebastian’s ass.

He’s under a blue-purple sky. The air smells of burnt wax, ground spices, and chilled cider; his favorite autumn scents. And his team—nope, hisfamily—is cheering him on. The future looms, and it isn’t promising him a chance to watch Mason make the pros, to see Zach get the hell out of Bloomington, to crash in Willie and Hunter’s dorm. And that’s okay. He doesn’t let it ruin the moment.

Sebastian is sometimes directionless. The old scars from bullies are still healing. And, yeah, he can be dull and boring, but he’s okay with that. His family and friends are okay with it. His boyfriend, which sounds weird but awesome, is okay with it too. It doesn’t need to get better than this. Itcan; he hopes it does; but maybe that’s for another summer.

“Hey,” Sebastian says, his thumb rubbing Emir’s cold, dry lips. “Are you gonna get up early and go running with me tomorrow?”

“Shut up, Bastian,” Emir says. He grins. “Of course I am.”