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“Yeah? That’s not what your mom says.”

A roar of laughter erupts. Corners of his mouth pulled up, Smith salutes Zach with his beer. It’s clear the team needed a good laugh to squeeze out all their nervous energy.

Mikey, already high off too much sugar and booze, asks, “Do you honestly think we’ll beat the Spartans this year?”

Zach, clearing his throat, narrows his eyes at Mikey. “Damn right.” He takes a gulp of beer. “Do you know why, kid?”

Mikey shakes his head, far from affronted.

Zach points at the faded mascot on Mikey’s obviously secondhand hoodie. “Because we’re a pack. We’ve got pride.”

“Pride,” chuckles Gio, jostling Willie with his elbow.

Willie rolls his eyes.

“We’re a family,” Zach says, serious as a heart attack. “You bunch of assholes aremy family, so I’ll make sure we tear them apart.” He lifts his beer can. The fire spits and crackles a rhythm over the silence.

Charlie whispers, “Hell, yeah.” He clinks his can with Zach’s. That’s all the others need before they growl and chuckle, letting Zach’s moment of vulnerability pass without jeers. Some days, Zach is a better leader than Sebastian will ever be.

Zach turns his head and drags his knuckles over his eyes.

Leaders can be vulnerable, too. Sebastian isn’t alone in his uncertainty about the future. And he isn’t alone in leaning against a tree, either.

“Hey.”

The sun coasts out of view. Next to Sebastian, Mason chugs a beer. Eyebrows raised, he cocks his head.

Sebastian has no idea what to say, since this is the first real word Mason’s said to him since their blowout on the field. Cottonmouth sets in. Sebastian’s tongue is heavy behind his teeth. He wants the awkwardness to go so he can have his friend back.

Mason considers him. He says, “Okay,” as if all is forgiven.

That’s it, huh?Sebastian’s shoulder to shoulder with Mason. The air between them isn’t completely clear, but Sebastian settles for Mason’s off-center smile and the scent of smoke wafting toward them. This is their brand of normal. It’s not messy, filled with hug-it-out confessions.

“You’re being a loner.” Mason flicks his eyes toward the team.

“I’m not.”

“Totally are, bro. What’s up?”

Sebastian rubs a hand over his eyes. He wants to tell Mason about Emir, about how nice things are, or how he’s freaking out about their newly re-formed friendship and how he’s waiting for it all to fall apart.

He says, “I’m cool, dude,” because he’s not ready to go there.

Mason is. “So.” Mason lowers his beer. “Where’s Shah? You didn’t invite him?”

“He wouldn’t come.”

It’s another thing Sebastian can’t wrap his head around: how different Emir can be when it’s just the two of them. No longer rude or abrasive, he’s still painfully shy with the guys, but he can laugh in Sebastian’s ear every morning after their jog.

“He needs to be more involved with the team.”

“Why, so you can be an ass to him?”

“You’re really raw about what happened, huh?” Mason seems exasperated, but Sebastian doesn’t care.

Frustration has been building, because Willie, who’s an unbelievable mind reader about these things, gets it, but Mason just doesn’t. Today, Sebastian is a superhero. He says, “Yes, I am, Mace. Emir is a pretty awesome guy and, once upon a time, he was my friend. You’re my friend, too, but you’ve been an ass for weeks about him.” He exhales, jaw tensing. “I’m over it.”

The crinkles in Mason’s brow are his tell. He’s processing.