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Mason elbows him and says, “You’ll do fine, dude. You’re built of awesomeness.”

If you only knew…

“I’m mostly okay with that, being a mess,” Mason says. Sebastian believes him, mostly.

In the line at the ice cream shop, Willie and Grey argue like a married couple about flavors. Sebastian’s grateful those two have become inseparable over the summer. Grey has been a crucial distraction, keeping Willie’s mind off the fact that he’s sidelined by his knee.

What truly trips Sebastian up is how soft Mason has gone for Grey. He doesn’t kick her from their table every day; he says a few polite words between mocking or talking over her, and hesmiles. Like right now, when he says, “Who invited The Brat?”

The sky is changing from cotton candy colors to indigo. The wind is light against their faces. Sebastian whispers, “Willster to the rescue.”

Mason says, “He loves to watch me suffer,” and glares at Willie, as if he’s trying set him on fire with his mind.

“Still don’t like her?”

“She’s tolerable.” Mason Riley is such a poser. One side of his mouth twitches. “She talks too much. And she looks at me, like—” Mason waves a hand, and Sebastian says, “Like she’s drunk in love with you.”

Sebastian’s familiarity with Mason’s expressions tell him one thing: Mason is smitten. He hangs an arm around Mason’s shoulders and pulls him in. “It’s not so bad,” he insists. “You two are kinda friends now, right?”

“About as much as you and Shah are,” Mason says, casual as can be.

Sebastian might spew chunks all over his favorite sneakers. He chokes out, “He’s okay.” Mason is the one guy Sebastian knows who does irrational, stupid things, and lives life as if regret is a foreign word. Sebastian shouldn’t hide Emir and their confusingwhateverfrom him.

“Uh huh.”

“Things are,” Sebastian pauses, “interesting.”

Mason raises his eyebrows but doesn’t interrogate Sebastian. He respects the bro code.

Good, because Sebastian didn’t want to have to hire assassins to put Mason out of his misery. Then who would he soak up the last dregs of summer with?

The ice cream shop has old-school megaphone speakers attached to the sides that play music Sebastian’s parents danced to. They’re blaring a crackled Elvis Bishop tune. Sebastian flashes on that one scene inGuardians of the Galaxy. He loves that movie. He loves the nostalgia the music evokes, the way it fits this perfectly weird little town. Next to him, Mason hums, tapping a foot.

This distraction keeps them from noticing Grey. She’s a ninja, suddenly thrusting a cone at Mason. Her big green eyes reflect the last hints of sunset. “Peppermint.” She waggles the cone in Mason’s face. “Your favorite, right?”

“Jesus,” Mason says, almost in a squeal.

Willie hooks his chin over Grey’s shoulder. He says, mockingly, “Sheknew, dude, how awesome is that?”

“As awesome as someone shoving that plastic spoon up your—”

“Is that a thank you?” Grey cuts Mason off. She has one eyebrow raised.

Mason grumbles, shifting until his thigh is pressed firmly against Sebastian’s. “Just sit, Patrick.” Eyebrows lowering, he growls, “Quietly.”

Grey flops on the bench. She hands Mason the cone. A satisfied curl appears on her lips when he licks viciously at melting ice cream.

“Small victories,” Willie whispers to her.

Mason flips him off.

Sebastian folds his hands behind his head, doing his best to stretch out while squashed four-deep on the bench. He hums “Blister in the Sun” while Mason and Willie continue their brotherly bickering. Grey tries to get a word in. She’s not annoyed. Maybe it’s because Mason doesn’t shut her down each time she opens her mouth.

Around them, the team fills the streets: having water gun fights, window-shopping, parading around like a bunch of teens drunk on good weather and freedom.

Sebastian should get in on that.

“Isn’t that Shah?” Mason points at the ice cream shop.