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“Oh, Bumble Bee, you’re too perfect.” Her fingers swipe away his tears. “I knew what you two had was special. As kids, you were inseparable. Whatever it is, things have a way of working themselves out.”

Sebastian’s against having a Taylor Swift oh-my-god moment. He scrubs the back of his hand over his eyes and sits taller. “You think so?”

“Honey, the universe is a bizarre place. Back then, Emir gazed at you like you were a solar system. So much to see! It’s fate.”

Sebastian laughs. None of this is funny, but holy hell, it’shilarious. He’s just come out to hismom. He’s got tear tracks on his cheeks and wants a giant root beer float. It’s as if the whole damn world knew before Sebastian that he was lonely without his best friend, that he’s in love with Emir.

“Well.” Lily nudges his side, asks, “Does he know?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Tell him!”

It sounds easy. How hard can it be to say three words when he’s already royally screwed things up by not sayinganything?

“Thanks, Mom.”

She squeezes him. “I love you, Bastian, and I truly love that boy too. Get your act together, because when I visit you in New York, I expect him to sit right next to me at all of your games.”

28

Pure, seconds-from-puking panic hits Sebastianan hour before Friday’s game. The stadium is packed end to end. Bloomington soccer is the real draw for locals. No one misses a home game.

“We’re ready,” he whispers to himself, pacing the tunnel outside the locker rooms. He can’t sit. He’s too jumpy and anxious and delirious. This is his pregame ritual, and no one disturbs him, no one except Grey. She keeps poking her head out of Coach’s office. Her big, reef-green eyes stare at him; her mouth is puckered as if shemightsay something.

“I’m fine.”

She nods once, then disappears.

Sebastian unclenches his hands, shakes out his fingers, and returns to pacing. He didn’t bring his headphones, so he can’t crank The Killers and give himself something to transfer all his restlessness into. He scuffs his cleats on the cement and prays his stomach gets off the Tilt-a-Whirl it’s been on all day.

“Dude, I can’t believe you didn’t know the answer to that one.”

“I can’t believeyoudidn’t warn me about the quiz today.”

Sebastian flinches at the voices. It’s Hunter and Emir. Their laughter precedes their slow walk into the corridor. Shadows created by the poor lighting make it easy for Sebastian to hang back, plastering himself to the wall. He’s been working toward sayingsomethingto Emir. He’s just not there yet. And rehearsing “Hello” and “I love you” in the bathroom every morning isn’t helping.

Hunter tousles Emir’s hair. “Something distracting you lately, Shah?”

“Yeah, making you look like a loser on the pitch!”

Sebastian thumps his head on the wall. Damn it, he’s missed Emir’s raspy chuckle. It’s a shame his balls aren’t big enough that he can justtellhim that.

Farther up, a door swings open and out barrel three of St. Catherine’s defensemen. Sebastian only recognizes one: Mason’s biggest rival, Cole Henry. Two bruisers flank him. One has shaggy gold-brown hair and an ugly smirk, and the other, a lean guy, has dark stubble and eyes green as spring grass. His jersey reads MICHAELSON, but his scowl says “Chief D-bag.”

They stride up, blocking Emir and Hunter.

“Looky what we have, fellas,” says Cole. “If it isn’t Bloomington’s sissy squad.”

The hall echoes with their guffaws. Sebastian tenses. His sweaty fingers curl into fists. He’s used to teams giving each other crap. It’s all strategy, like any other sport. Hell, Carl or Zach do it to players frequently. If you can get in an enemy’s head, the advantage is all yours. But these assholes are intent on something else.

Michaelson says, “The rainbow rebels, right?”

Shaggy punches his shoulder. He leers at Emir, then Hunter. “Careful, they might call their unicorn-riding coach on us.”

They all howl, and Hunter’s jaw tenses. Emir, on the other hand, stands tall, eyes black with thin gray rims. Sebastian’s certain Emir is going to deck one of them, and then he’ll be out of the game, dissolving any chances they’ll have on defense. Of course, Sebastian will be benched, too, if any one of these idiots lifts a finger against Emir.

“Lay off,” Hunter says, gruffly.