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Emir’s on the steps with an open book in his lap and an unlit cigarette behind his left ear. He appears uninterested in his surroundings. But his eyes are guarded, not letting anyone in.

“Whaddya say, Bastian?” Willie asks.

Sebastian eyes his feet and shrugs.

“Let’s justgo,” Mason insists, climbing off the hood to hop in the driver’s seat. “We’re missing the fun.”

“I’d call it mayhem,” Hunter jokes.

Emir’s eyes meet Sebastian’s, and Sebastian’s about to say something, go against Mason’s bratty attitude and invite him along, but Emir shakes his head. He and Emir can resemble friends away from everyone else, so why not around Sebastian’s friends?

“Yo, Bastian,” Mason shouts.

Sebastian falters. Screw Mason and Emir. He wants to tell Emir to get off his ass and come along, but Grey skips up and plops down next to Emir.

“Aren’t you going?” she asks.

Emir glances at Sebastian before lowering his eyes. “No, that’s not my crowd.”

In the background, Mason tuts.

“Well,” Grey says, pushing curls off her face, “They never let me tag along.”

“Because you’re twelve!”

“Willie wants me to come along,” she says to Mason.

Willie ducks when Mason twists around. He cuts a finger across his throat as if Willie is dead to him, at least for the next hour or so. “No effin’ way, Patrick,” Mason tells Grey. “The kids stay at home.”

“I’m the one who saves your ass when you come back, drunk and out of your mind.” Grey’s fierce stare pins Mason down. “I never rat you out. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Mason mumbles, “Thanks, but no,” with a scowl.

Grey’s usual neon vibrancy begins to dull.

Is that what it’s like having a crush on someone who doesn’t want you back? It steals your light?

“Whatever, Mace.” Grey rolls her eyes, but hurt tilts her lips downward. She turns back to Emir. “I’m not twelve, and I’m fun.” She sits taller, as if it’ll make her older than sixteen and cooler too.

Emir bites on his lopsided grin. “You think so?”

“Oh, Iknowit,” Grey assures in a way that could be misinterpreted, but then she giggles so hard she goes red all over, ruining the effect.

“I’m not,” Emir says, lifting his book. “But you can chill if you want. I’ve got sisters back home, so I’m sure I can handle you.” He points a finger in her face, warning, “But no trying to braid my hair.”

Grey lifts her hand to pinky swear. The easy bonding between Emir and Grey intimidates Sebastian. They barely know each other. Doesn’t he deserve that? Why does Sebastian get Emir the Asshole, with bitchy accessories?

“Whatever,” Sebastian whispers. And he most certainly doesn’t pout or stomp away like a kid, but he does climb into the passenger seat with a little less of a glow.

Willie tries to give him a fist bump. Sebastian returns it, half-assed. He kicks his feet up on the dash while Mason cranks up the car.

“I’m not gonna say it”—Mason totally does—“but he doesn’t like us.”

Sebastian ignores him. Emir just did Mason a solid by taking Grey off his hands, and he’s blind to it. He closes his eyes as Mason drives them away.

10

“So, what’re you having todrink, sweet cheeks?” Liza, with her blue-tinted hair, kind face, and soft wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, asks. She snaps her gum, waiting patiently.