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The summer after seventh grade, the JACass had rented the nature preserve’s lodge to celebrate Chapman Law’s fiftieth anniversary.

He’d wanted to honor the family legacy after Grandpa Chapman passed away.

It was why we’d taken that matching photo together, an unveiling of the future of the law firm.

He’d paraded me around to meet clients until I escaped out onto the deck to catch my breath.

Back then, I hadn’t known why I was suffocating. Only that the long rectangle of a room was closing in on me with each handshake, with each expectation-lined smile. But now, standing in the same spot I’d been in when he announced his vision for my future, I wasn’t afraid like I had been before.

I pushed my shoulders back, pushed that dark memory away.

Mom had let me borrow her SUV to haul the decorations, and I’d spent the last three hours transforming the banquet hall into something new.

The projection screen where Chapman Law had made the announcement with our photo was now covered in a pride flag.

Tables where I’d been forced to kiss ass were put away, giving space for a giant dance floor.

And most importantly, there was no one with a firm grasp on my shoulder steering me around.

“This place looks great,” called a familiar gruff voice.

Owen, the ranger who’d offered up the lodge, stood inside the main door.

He’d been dressed as Miles Morales the last time I’d seen him, but tonight he was wearing a rainbow-colored shirt.

Its bold white letters declared he was an ally for his child.

It was endearing, and I wished my father was like him.

So much so that it caused a lump to rise in my throat.

A nod was all I could manage as I double-checked the decorations I’d put up.

By myself. Sawyer and Kennedy would be here any minute now and see what I’d spent three hours on.

Streamers hung from every beam of the pitched ceiling, twirling from the AC vents, while the curtains of twinkling lights lined the walls.

Complete with the green carpet leading from the entrance to the inflatable arches, the inside of the lodge was officially ready for a party.

All that was left to do was organize the QSA table.

“My kid’s too young to be here tonight,” Owen added, crossing over to me, “but they told me to tell Zeke hello for them.”

It took a moment for my brain to catch up, but then I noticed something familiar about Owen’s eyes. The rec center. “You’re Addi’s father?” I asked.

He nodded, shooting me a wide grin. “Thank you for helping them with their essay,” he said. “They said the pride flag makes them feel safe, and now they’ve convinced all our neighbors to hang one up.”

“That’s great,” I managed. The lump was getting bigger, harder to swallow around. The rainbow flag had never made me feel safe when I was younger. It’d been intimidating, made me want to hide.

“Addi is the reason I’m volunteering with Carmen Bedolla’s campaign,” Owen said, looking around the hall. “Whatever I can do to make them safe in this town.”

“Thank you,” I blurted. “For offering this space and, uh, being a good dad. I’m glad Addi has you.”

“And thank you,” he said, clapping me on the back, “for all your hard work. I’m sure your dad is proud of what you’re doing.”

“Yeah…” He didn’t know the JACass, but for a second I imagined how life would’ve been different if he were like Owen. If I had been supported like Addi.

The door swung open behind me, slicing through my thoughts. Sawyer and Kennedy had finally arrived. I plastered on a fake smile to mask my burning eyes and readied myself for their reactions. But when I turned, the corners of my mouth fell in confusion.

Cohen? He waved awkwardly when his eyes found me. Why is he here?

“Be right back,” I told Owen, excusing myself.

“I’ll get the sound system ready,” he replied.

Cohen’s gaze swooped around the room as I made my way over to him. Astonishment washed over him as he took in the lodge. It was moments like these—when he was unguarded, emotions on his sleeve—that reminded me of the crush I have on him. Had .

“You did all this?” he asked.

“Why, is something off?” I rushed to say. “I can fix—”

“It looks great,” he said quickly with his hands held up.

“Thanks…” His niceness made me skeptical. It was one thing at the rec center, but now? “Why are you here?”

“Sawyer and Kennedy went out on a date,” he explained, his attention snapping to the supplies on the QSA table. “So…I wanted to help set up.”

“That’s nice,” I said, disappointed they’d be late. “For them, I mean. When they get here…what?”

He worried his bottom lip and cut his eyes toward me. “About that,” he began while unloading the QSA supplies. “I wanna give you a heads-up that Sawyer is pissed…and they’re not coming tonight.”

“What?” I asked, unsure if I’d heard him correctly.

“She says you’re acting like you’re the QSA president,” he explained with a wince.

“Not that I think you are! But she said you were reckless. It’s obvious you pulled that stunt with the statue.

And if you get caught, they’ll find out about the speakeasies.

Then the club will be targeted and we’ll definitely be disbanded when school starts. ”

Targeted? First Sawyer told me I wasn’t doing enough, and now I was doing too much?

My chest deflated as I glanced back at the decorations I’d worked so hard on.

“No one saw me paint the statue,” I assured him, my gaze drifting to the sign-up sheets I’d put on the table.

“And at least I’m trying to save the QSA. ”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” He let out a soft chuckle, and… Oh my god. He was smiling at me. “I really appreciate you stepping up. That’s why I’m here to help you.”

“But you’re against”—I waved a hand absently around the lodge—“all this.”

“I get it now, why you’re doing it. What it means…” His smile softened into something more intimate, more reminiscent of the quiet moments we’d once shared. “You’re more than useful, Zeke, and I’m sorry if I made you feel less than that.”

“Stop,” I said, unable to bear it. “Why are you being so…so… nice to me?”

He inhaled deeply and avoided my eyes. “Because I’m the Zasshole, okay?” His exhale was rough, long-winded. “I’ve treated you like shit because…because I was jealous of you.”

“Of me?” I couldn’t keep the bewilderment out of my voice. “Why ?”

“You’re better than me at everything.” His face was getting splotchy again, and I knew he was being honest. “People always like you, even Derick had a thing for you. You were great at baseball, the top of our class, everything. Now you’re even better at being out and proud than I am—”

“No, I’m not,” I inserted, forgetting about the table setup. “I’m not good at that. At all. My father—”

“You don’t have to explain anymore.” He let out a timid laugh, almost a sigh. “I’m sorry I never asked if you were okay after you came out.”

My mouth opened, closed, opened again as my brain glitched.

Went into static mode. Rebooted. “Thanks?” My voice quavered.

Guests began to arrive, their softs oohs and aahs echoing through the banquet hall.

“I probably wouldn’t have told you the truth if you had, seeing as we weren’t… friends. So, uh, don’t feel bad.”

“We are now, though.”

Are we? He’d said it as if it were fact. No trace of his usual sarcasm.

I didn’t know what to say. And I didn’t know how any of this made me feel.

The speakers blasted Beyoncé, the bass thumping through my chest. I’d been dancing nonstop for the last hour while purposefully ignoring the QSA table.

Cohen was sitting there, right in my periphery.

The unlikeliest person to take my side. It should be Sawyer taking sign-ups and rooting for me.

My best friend, who is supposed to understand me, who I shouldn’t have to explain myself to.

Yet she wasn’t here, and I was relieved—and still weirded the hell out by how unsettled it made me—that Cohen had shown up instead.

She’d only push me until I caved and apologized for what I did in the square.

And I wasn’t sorry at all.

Painting that statue had felt good, calling out Mayor Buchanan even more so.

The fact that it had pissed him off gave me satisfaction.

Sawyer couldn’t take that away no matter how insolent she was acting.

If she’d actually shown up instead of being a rude-ass, she’d see that word was spreading about Pride.

That double the amount of people had shown up tonight, including a shocking appearance from Damian Jones.

The ending notes of the song sounded, and I pushed into the crowd. Farther and farther away from the QSA table. My only job tonight was to be the King of Pride everyone expected me to be, dance instead of worrying—

“Omph,” I groaned and nearly fell as someone bumped into my side.

“Sorry,” the guy said, strong hands steadying me. “Hey, it’s you.”

I knew those hands. That voice too. “Mason?” I gasped as the next song started. A surge of giddiness made me smile. “You came!”

“Decided to stop by,” he said, raising his voice over the song.

“But I thought you couldn’t come?” I asked, leaning in close to his ear.

“Guess you heard about me being grounded?” His breath was hot against the side of my face as I nodded, and it reminded me of the way his skin had felt underneath my fingers. “If someone hadn’t snuck out and broken that gnome, I wouldn’t have been.”

“Sorry.” I forgot what I was about to say. His hands gripped my waist and pulled me close. “Uh…hi.”

“Hey,” he whispered back.

He pressed his body up against mine, hands roaming up my shirtfront one button at a time. We vibed for a moment as the song blasted, as my mind played a baseball game. He really didn’t Z-step me. Swing. Because he’s here. Swing. Even after everything I’d told him. Home run!