Page 15

“Where were you last night?”

Sawyer’s fingers clacked on the keyboard as she checked reservations.

I was seated on the floor behind the elaborate host desk at The Cove, and the Friday dinner rush was set to arrive at any moment.

She’d begged me to come hang but had been lobbing questions at me since I got here.

“You had a ‘D appointment’ with Mason instead of helping me plan for tomorrow, didn’t you?

” she continued, eyeing me over her glasses.

“Nooo,” I said through a mouthful of breadstick I’d swiped from the kitchen.

I had tried to clear my head on the walk home from the rec center. Tried to forget how Cohen had called my name as I left. The way he’d said it had made me walk faster. I didn’t have it in me to deal with his hot-and-cold attitude, not after making up my mind to help mentor.

“Besides, I haven’t even talked to Mason since we fell asleep…” I trailed off, thinking about the unopened Instagram message I’d received late last night.

The DM had popped up moments after I approved a follow request from the private profile bedmas_22, and the preview was just a simple “hey.” Given the username, I knew it had to be Mason Bedolla.

I’d gotten messages like that before, knew the fun places they’d lead.

But every time I went to open it, I stopped myself.

Because what was the use? Mason was only interested in the person he thought I was that night…

or his parents wanted to know why their gnome was destroyed.

I took another bite of breadstick, chewing as I thought. Then I realized it was quiet. Too quiet. I looked up at Sawyer, and her mouth was agape. “What?” I asked.

“You withheld just how much fun you had with him that night, and now you’re just gonna drop that tidbit without any context?” she asked, swiveling in her chair to face me. “Like by sleep do you mean…?” She made a crude gesture with her fingers that wasn’t anatomically possible.

“Give each other a secret handshake?” I joked, and she gave me an annoyed kick with her Doc. “Okay, fine. We might’ve engaged in…extracurricular activities. And I might’ve slept over. It’s a long story that ends with a garden gnome breaking my fall and—”

“You stayed?” She cut me off.

“Not intentionally,” I said, rubbing my shin.

“So are you gonna let him get to know you?”

“I dunno…”

“Then you’re gonna Z-step him?”

“I. Don’t. Know,” I enunciated, throwing the breadstick at her in annoyance. “It was one time. I think it’s best if I avoid him…Why are you giving me angry eyebrows right now?”

“Because you’re doing it again,” she began with a level gaze. “The whole avoidance thing. You did it to Jonathan with the tattoo, Bailey the skateboarder, Zach from West Point baseball, and the list goes on.”

“C’mon, Saw, give me a break.”

“Even though Cohen despises Mason for whatever reason—”

“Who doesn’t Coco hate?” I scoffed.

“Mason was actually nice unlike all those other jerks,” she concluded.

“Damn, this is like dodgeball all over again, only this time it’s…” I motioned offhandedly. “Dodging a dick that you’re trying to throw at me.”

“You know that’s not funny, Zeke,” she said heatedly, jabbing a finger at me.

But bringing up the past didn’t make her forget why she was shading me.

“You avoid talking about your parents’ divorce and telling me why you’ve been distant lately”—I gave in and started to explain where I’d been last night, but she didn’t let me speak—“and you bailed on QSA without an excuse. Kennedy and I had to plan the best we could.”

“God, you’re making me feel like a—”

“Zasshole?”

“Ha.”

I could tell her about the rec center’s mentor program, tell her how I wanted to do something more. Judging by her attitude, she’d only lay into me like Cohen had. After the vitriol he’d spewed, plus JACass’s phone call, it’d only feel like a third strike.

“I talked to my father last night,” I offered instead. See, I’m not avoiding it.

Her mood downshifted from keyed up to full-on concerned. “You did?” she asked as worry etched on her forehead. I nodded, already regretting that I brought it up. “What did he want?”

I shrugged, tension clenching my stomach. Both my appetite and nerve were lost. I couldn’t tell her everything he’d said, not without her pushing me to unpack things I’d rather keep in the past. Okay, so maybe I am avoiding it.

“While some would say I’m extremely good at body language, you’re gonna have to give me more than that.”

“And by ‘some,’ do you mean Kennedy?” I didn’t think it was possible, but she prodded me with only her glare.

“Okay, fiiine.” I gave in with a deep breath.

“It was the typical bullshit about my bad decisions. And when I grilled him about sponsoring Family First, he said it was just business. Nothing personal.”

“That is—” She snapped on a fake smile as the front entrance’s door chimed.

“Good evening, Mrs. and Mr. Sinclair. Your usual table is ready.” They exchanged pleasantries before their footsteps clacked down the rustic floorboards.

She turned to me and lowered her voice. “That is a seriously fucked-up thing for him to say, Z.”

“Right?” I leaned my head back against the desk, exhaling roughly. “I don’t know how he could say that when the state governor is intentionally targeting queer kids. That’s pretty damn personal to me.”

“I’m so damn proud of you,” she said, her eyes softening. “Are you okay, though?”

I smiled at her, bringing my hand to my chest. “I am, titty promise,” I vowed. “Not letting my father get me down anymore.”

“Good, because you’re sticking it to ‘the man’ with these speakeasies, well not literally sticking it like…” She made the hand gesture again.

“You’d make a great catcher,” I teased. “Because you just told me to pitch a curveball.”

“If that’s what you did to Mason,” she started, “then you do you.”

We both laughed, but the tension was still taut in my chest. “Seriously, sorry for missing last night. What do you need me to do for tomorrow?”

“I have it under control, and I know you’re dealing with a lot…So you get a pass. This one time.” She winked, twisting back and forth in her chair. “Kennedy and I mapped out where to put up the decorations, so all you have to do is show up early to help set up.”

“Okay,” I said, and then, trying to lighten the mood: “Speaking of, did you two map out each other’s mouths again?”

“What was it you said?” She pretended to think, tapping a finger on her chin. “Oh, yeah…We gave each other a secret handshake.”

“Definite girlfriend vibes,” I said, and nodded in appreciation.

“Let’s hope so.” Her grin was wide, pinching her pale cheeks. “All the stars are aligning in my favor.”

“How so?” I asked as the door chimed again.

“Because she’s using her cosplay skills to go as Captain Jaymes Catz’s girlfriend, Ava Daise, from my fanfic.” She plastered on another smile to greet the guests, but it dropped as she tsked. “You’re late, Cohen, and not even in uniform yet.”

“Sorry, the campaign meeting at Estrella Books ran late,” he explained in a rush.

Anger twisted me like it had when I’d left him standing in the hallway.

I ducked under the counter as though I could will myself to disappear.

His habit of making me feel like shit was triggering.

Balling my fists in my leather jacket’s pockets, I held my breath.

Afraid he’d hear me. Afraid the tightness vibrating inside me would erupt if he did.

“Go get changed before my parents see you,” she instructed, reaching for a drawer handle. “Don’t forget your server apron.”

She opened the cabinet underneath the desk, and I saw stars. “Shit,” I hissed as it banged me in the face.

“Sorry, sorry.” She pushed my tangled hair back. “How’s your head?”

“Haven’t had any complaints,” I joked, but my laugh died when Cohen’s messy cowlicks appeared over the counter.

“Zeke?” he asked, looking down at me like he always did.

My cover was blown. “Gotta go,” I groaned, standing with a wince. The start of a headache was forming, and I needed to be anywhere else but here. “Saw, I’ll have the decorations ready. Pick me up at seven tomorrow, okay?”

“Oookay.” Her eyes darted between Cohen and me in confusion.

“Later,” I called over my shoulder.

It was a straight shot to The Cove’s back entrance, where I’d parked my dirt bike.

The hallway kept with the rustic theme, old-timey pictures and signs flashing by.

With each stomp of my sneakers, I could feel the tension winding tighter and tighter inside me.

You’ll only ruin everything with your Zasshole attitude, Cohen had warned.

Just keep your head down and stay out of it, the JACass had ordered.

Both of their voices were testing my newfound resolve.

“Wait up,” Cohen called, his voice breathy as he rushed to keep up.

“No,” I said, and lengthened my strides.

“Zeke.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Can we please just talk?”

I spun around to face him, and he nearly collided into me. “There’s no need. I said everything I wanted to say.” Too much actually, I mentally added, a blush warming my face.

“At least let me apologize for saying—”

“We all know how much of a fuck-up I am. You remind me all the damn time.”

“You aren’t, though.” The depths of his brown eyes caught me in their stare, but I refused to glitch over him. Not right now when I was on the verge of lashing out. “I’m sorry for how I handled things in freshman year. I didn’t know you were afraid…if you would’ve just talked to me then we—”

“Do you know what’s worse than you being a total dick to me?” I asked, and he went silent as the front entrance chime echoed down the hallway. “You pretending like you care.”

“You don’t understand—”

“I don’t need to.”

My chest was threatening to burst, and I had to get out of here before I lost my cool. Or he saw me cry. I started to push open the door, but Sawyer’s voice stopped me. “Mr. Chapman and Mayor Buchanan,” she welcomed with sarcasm-laced politeness.

I glanced over Cohen’s shoulder and saw my father standing at the host desk.

He had a generic smile in place, and the mayor’s self-righteous stare was pointed at Sawyer.

My fists were shaking as they were led into the dining room.

I turned on my heel, and Cohen reached to stop me again.

Crimson had bloomed up from his neck as he stood there, as he licked his bottom lip, as his eyes filled with pity I didn’t want.

Another apology was on the tip of his tongue, and I couldn’t take it.

“Don’t,” I warned him, shoving outside.

The summer evening enveloped me with its heat as I straddled my dirt bike.

The phone call and Cohen and the mayor’s Family First ordinance—that magnifying glass was back.

I needed to calm down. Go for a ride so the engine’s warble drowned it all out.

But then I glanced back toward the restaurant and faltered.

Through the windows, I could see my father and the mayor in the far-right corner. They were at the same table where he’d tried to coax me into living with him. How could they sit there and laugh like they weren’t destroying my life, the lives of every queer person in Beggs?

I had to get as far away from this place as possible.

Pulling my helmet on, I refocused on kick-starting the engine.

Revving the gas obnoxiously loud. Then I went to downshift and tore out of the driveway only to stop short.

Across the parking lot sat a bright-blue truck.

The same one the JACass had gotten me for my sixteenth birthday.

The same one with a window decal for Wildcats Baseball.

The same one that carried the weight of all his expectations.

And I could unlock it with the fob on my dirt bike key ring.

Don’t be immature, he’d ordered, but I was feeling very immature right now.