Law frowns. “It’s not a big deal. It’s not like I spend the day crying into the pillow,” he jokes.
“No, you’ll just end up at the gym, and I’m sorry, I kind of tolerate exercise now, but that is no way to spend a holiday. You’re coming home with me,” I announce grandly.
He shakes his head and flops onto his back. “No, I’m not.”
I push myself up on my elbow. “But… you have to come with me.”
“No, I don’t,” he says, and before I can argue, he continues, “Think about it. Who else is going to be there for the holidays?” He gives me one of those raised-brow, meaningful looks, and I just stare back with a blank face because I have zero clue what he’s talking about.
“My siblings?” I offer with all the confidence of a kid who’s just been asked a question about the homework he hasn’t even opened.
Law looks like he isn’t sure if I’m kidding or not. “No. Asola,” he says. “I mean, I assume he’ll be there?”
“Oh.” Now I feel stupid because Falcon will definitely be there. His family lives next door. Ever since the summer we became friends we’ve been moving between the two houses with very little thought about who lives where. I’ve eaten countless meals at the Asolas’ dinner table, and Falcon was responsible for convincing my mom to incorporate such horrors as asparagus, sardines, and lentils into her cooking. I don’t think Ian ever forgave him for the lentils. Our dads go fishing together and our moms go out on margarita nights, and the Fourth of July family gathering will most definitely include the Asolas.
“Yeah,” Law says, but it sounds more like, Duh. The inch that separates our naked bodies feels like a mile now. Law stares out the window, refusing to meet my gaze. “If you think about it, it’s kind of the perfect moment to, you know, let him know about your feelings.”
My stomach drops. “Oh.” I can’t seem to form any coherent sentences.
Law still refuses to look me in the eye, but he nods and smiles. “Absolutely. It’s a festive and happy day. You couldn’t find a better opportunity.”
“Hmm,” I mumble noncommittally. Telling Falcon how I feel about him has always been the plan. The end goal. It’s what started this whole transformation business of mine. But I always thought I’d have an overwhelming feeling of rightness when the time came. Something that would make me go, Yes! This is it! This is the moment. I don’t feel like that right now, though. It feels unreal, but not in a good way. The thought of talking to Falcon does not fill me with excitement.
I don’t want to do this.
The feeling is sudden and alarming. I’ve changed my looks and the way I dress. I’ve been trying to change myself into somebody who’s worthy of being with Falcon. It’s not like he’s asked me to do it, but because I’m obviously a bit crazy—it might be that all those products and gels I’ve been using to tame my hair have gone to my head—because I feel something like resentment toward Falcon.
And to top off the overflowing bucket of crazy, I kind of don’t mind that I don’t look like a slob anymore. In fact, I feel a bit relieved that I now have clothes I can wear when I need to look a bit more put together.
My inner turmoil must look like worry because Law swallows and turns to me for the first time since the topic of Falcon came up. He takes my hand in his and links our fingers as he pulls me to him.
“Andy, you have nothing to worry about. You never did. Asola… he’ll be lucky to have somebody like you in his life because… you’re perfect. You’ve always been perfect.”
Butterflies. My stomach is full of them. They’re like battering rams, slamming into the walls of my belly and chest.
“I…” I have no words. Everything that I can think of to say feels inadequate.
“So chin up,” he says, but the smile that follows looks forced. “He’d be crazy to turn you down.”
Only then do I remember that we were talking about Falcon because my mind is still stuck on Law’s previous words.
You’re perfect. You’ve always been perfect.
“Besides, I’m used to spending the holiday away from family,” Law continues, unaware of my inner turmoil. “It’s not a big deal. I’m not sitting at home and moping. I usually go out and it’ll distract me just fine.”
My throat goes dry. What the hell does he mean by go out and it’ll distract me just fine? Does that mean he’s finding a hook-up? Because it sounds like he’s planning to find a hook-up. An uncomfortable feeling settles in my stomach like a weight that is dragging me down.
I’m not jealous. Not at all. Law doesn’t owe me anything, and he can go and have sex with whoever he wants to, whenever he wants to. I have no problem with that. Absolutely none. It’s not like the two of us are exclusive. Hell, there isn’t an us to speak of. I practically begged the guy to have sex with me because I was inexperienced. As far as I know, maybe Law just wants some good sex for a change, instead of my fumbling. A good friend would encourage him to go out.
I’m not a good friend, though.
“You have to come,” I say resolutely. “I’m not ready to talk to Falcon yet, so if you think that’s something that should keep you away, you’re wrong. Besides, we’ve been spending so much time together lately that you can’t just cut me off like that. I might go into withdrawal. And don’t even get me started on the fact that we’re not even halfway done with my sex lessons.”
Law stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Sex lessons,” he repeats flatly.
“Hey, you’re the one that committed yourself to teaching me the intricacies of sex, buddy, so you can’t just quit halfway through. I mean, I didn’t wait for the results of the physics test, and then go all, Ah, well, they passed. I’m off to the beach.”
“You didn’t,” he agrees with the same monotonous tone, but I’m not letting it stop me. Karma will probably come and bite me in the ass, but while I’m still breathing, Law is not staying in town to have lots of sex with festive party-goers. I’m sorry, he’s just not.
“And that means you can’t either. You’re stuck with me ’til the bitter end.”
Law stares at me for a moment, but then he shakes his head and smiles. “I guess I need to pack a bag, then.”
18
Law
Andy’s hometown is beautiful. Situated near the state line, it’s got a little bit of everything, so it could easily be in a tourism ad. There’s a view of the mountains. There are maples. There’s a lake. It’s downright idyllic.
The town itself is tiny. One of those places where your teachers have also taught your father, your mother, or both when they were in high school, and everybody knows everybody. It’s probably a nice place for raising kids. I imagine that children around here are free to play with the neighborhood kids with no need for their parents to chaperone. They can go swimming in the lake and run around in the forest. Wild and free. I can almost picture little Andy doing just that.
Andy’s childhood home is on a quiet street, surrounded by massive trees. The house itself is a two-story, gray colonial. Andy smiles as he looks at it before climbing out of the car.
“Home sweet home,” he says, and he really means it. My parents’ Manhattan apartment has never made me feel nostalgic or warm inside when I visit. They still have my room, but it’s in name only. Mom redecorated last year, so it’s more like a guest room now. Not that it really matters, I hardly visit for longer than two days at a time anymore.
“So this is where you grew up.” I get out of the car and open the trunk to grab our bags.
Andy grabs his duffel from me and grins. “Yup. This is where the magic happened.”
Just then, the front door opens, and a woman comes out. “Hi, baby,” she says cheerfully as she comes down the porch steps and pulls Andy into a hug. She’s almost the same height as Andy, but where he is sinewy, she’s slender and graceful. Andy’s mom has the same dark brown hair as her son, but her eyes are blue instead of gray, and her features are softer than Andy’s.
When Andy’s father c
omes out to greet us, it’s clear Andy takes after his mom, since Andy’s nothing like his giant of a father. The man is at least a foot taller than me, and I’m not short by any stretch of imagination. Also, Andy’s dad is blond. He’s like a Viking or a Norse god.
Andy hugs his dad, and then looks at me with a giant smile on his face. “Mom, Dad, this is Law. Law, these are my parents, Jane and Mark.”
I reach out my hand, but Andy’s mom just pulls me into a hug as well. “We’re so happy to finally meet you!”
“It’s good to put a face to the name,” Andy’s dad says. “All we hear lately when we talk to Andy is Law this and Law that.”
Now that’s interesting. I turn to Andy. “You’ve been talking about me?” Andy’s cheeks have gone bright red as he glares at his parents. “I may have mentioned you once or twice. Mom and Dad are pathological liars, though. A family curse.”
“I resent that,” Andy’s dad says. “I’m honest to a fault, except for a tiny white lie here and there.” He snaps his fingers. “Like when we told you they didn’t sell replacement batteries for that god-awful keyboard you loved so much.” The man looks at me and speaks from the corner of his mouth. “God love him, but Andy has no musical gifts.”
“The TV only works when it rains,” Jane says.
“Swallowing your gum makes your poop bounce out of the toilet.”
Andy groans at that and hides his face, but that doesn’t stop his parents.
“The security cameras are actually Santa cams, and he’s always watching,” Mark adds to the growing pile of lies. He smirks as he catches my eye. “Andy believed that one ’til he was nine.”
“Eating green beans will make your muscles grow.” Andy’s mom keeps listing, ticking stuff off on her fingers.
“Somebody broke into our house, but they only took the… what was that DVD again?”
“Finding Nemo,” Andy’s mom supplies.
“Enough!” Andy cries. “Can we just once pretend that we’re a normal family? Just for this one weekend?”
Jane and Mark look at each other and shrug at the exact same time. “Sure honey. We can definitely give it our best shot,” they say in unison.
Andy sighs and shakes his head at that. “Are the others here already?” he asks, changing the topic.
“Ian took the twins to the store to pick up the new patio table, since somebody”—Jane looks at her husband pointedly—“thought a DIY project was a good idea and tried to turn the old one into a ping-pong table. The girls are coming later today.”
“In my defense, Pinterest made it seem so easy.”
Andy’s mom pats her husband on the cheek. “It always does, hon. It always does.”
We grab our bags and head inside. “You two get the attic room,” Jane says as Andy groans, but his mom doesn’t seem the least bit affected by the expression of misery on her son’s face.
“How come I always get shipped off to the attic? It gets unbearably hot there in the summer,” Andy complains.
“It’s not my fault you don’t book a room in advance,” Jane says with a shrug.
Andy stops mid-stride. “I’m sorry, what?”
Jane cocks her head to the side. “Everybody else calls me before the big holidays and tells me which room they want.”
Andy gapes at her with raised brows. “But… why has nobody told me it’s a thing we do?” he finally asks.
“I don’t think anybody’s been told specifically. The others just caught on a lot sooner that you could call dibs on the better rooms,” Jane says with a shrug of her shoulder.
“So this is what betrayal feels like,” Andy mutters as we follow his mom up the two flights of stairs until we get to the small door that leads to the attic.
“Here we are,” she says cheerfully. “There’s a bathroom behind that door, Law. You two will have to share with the twins.”
Andy groans. “And the hits just keep coming.”
“I forced them to clean it, so you can relax. It looked fine this morning,” Jane reassures Andy, but Andy doesn’t seem to believe the bathroom could be in decent shape. “I put the sheets and pillows on the bed already, so just drop off your stuff and come back down, so I can put you to work.”
“So that’s why you were so excited to have us all home. You missed the free labor.”
Jane laughs. “That’s it. I endured thirty-six hours of increasingly painful contractions with you just so I would have somebody who’d peel the potatoes. You’ve cracked my evil masterplan. And here I thought Mrs. Patterson was crazy when she tried to tell me that you’re a genius in the seventh grade. It obviously took me some time to catch on, but now I can really see it.”
I can’t help but laugh, especially after Andy gives Jane an exaggerated frown. I like Andy’s parents. They don’t seem to take life too seriously, which is a contrast to my own parents. I’m already looking forward to meeting the rest of the Carters.
Andy’s family is loud. It shouldn’t exactly come as a surprise, since a) there’s a lot of them, even if we’re not counting the aunts, uncles and grandparents that will arrive at some point tomorrow, and b) Andy has told me about it and warned me in advance on the drive over. Still, compared to my own family gatherings, which mostly entail a quiet dinner at a fancy restaurant, the Carter family takes me by surprise.
I’ve been keeping to the background. I want to make a good impression, so it would be embarrassing as hell to call somebody by the wrong name or joke about something that turns out to be a sensitive topic among the Carter clan. I feel like I know these people because Andy has talked about his family a lot. Still, I’m uncharacteristically apprehensive, and a bit nervous.
Just in case, I quiz myself quickly as I stand before a wall of family photographs.
Andy’s older brother Ian takes after their dad. He has the same blond Thor look with his large frame and long hair.
The two older sisters, Cecilia and Emily, are also blonde, but where their brother and dad are hulking giants, the women are tall and slender.
Ryan and Landon, or the twins, as everybody refers to them, are slightly shorter than Ian and their dad, but still taller than Andy. They have the same hair color as Andy, but nobody else in the family has the crazy locks Andy sports on his head.
There’s also Cecilia’s husband, Matt, a self-admitted recovering workaholic, and their daughter, Lily, a shy ten-year-old who mostly just ignores me and has inherited the same love for science her uncle has. In Lily’s case, it seems to be astronomy that interests her most.
The wall holds a staggering number of pictures, documenting the history of the Carter family. It’s interesting to see their life play out in front of me, but mostly, my eyes are drawn to pictures of Andy. I start with the photos of him when he was a chubby baby, with large, serious, gray eyes, then move on to the ones of the toddler Andy with his mop of already untamable, curly hair. I move on to the teenage Andy, holding up a trophy at what looks to be a science fair, then to Andy on his graduation. I keep staring at that picture the longest. Next to Andy, there’s Asola. The guy looks the same as now, except for the wide smile that I’ve never seen on his face, since he usually glares at me when we’re in the same room. What stops me, though, is the fact that Andy isn’t looking at the camera. Instead, his eyes are fixated on Asola, and the look in Andy’s eyes… it’s part worship, part longing.
It’s like a sucker punch to the gut.
It registers only now that somewhere down the line, somewhere deep inside me, I’ve started to entertain a foolish hope that maybe, just maybe, there could be something more between Andy and me.
It’s something only a complete idiot would think, considering I promised Andy I’d help him woo Asola. My only excuse is that it has been damn easy to forget Asola even exists. He hasn’t really been around this summer, so I’ve conveniently pushed him out of my mind while I’ve been steadily falling for Andy myself.
It feels like my heart is jumping into my throat as the thought registers and s
ettles.
Falling for Andy.
Is that what I’ve been doing?
I want to say no. I want to laugh at the ridiculousness of the thought, but then images jump into my head. Andy gesticulating wildly as he talks about the probability of the existence of dark energy. Andy trying to debate with himself about who should receive the Nobel Prize this year. Andy completing a 5K run without stopping once and the dorky victory dance that followed the achievement. Andy yelling at the TV when he happened to come upon a game of Jeopardy that had questions about National Marine Sanctuaries.
Andy throwing his head back as I suck him into my mouth. Andy letting out a shuddering breath as I push my fingers inside him. Andy arching his back as he comes with a shout, squeezing around me.
I stare at the frames with unblinking eyes.
Well, shit.
I’m in love with Andy Carter.
I’m so deep inside my head that I almost scream like a little girl as a hand lands on my shoulder and I see Andy’s dad standing next to me.
“Fu— fudge,” I say. “Mr. Carter.”
“Sorry,” he says with a grin, but he doesn’t really look that apologetic. “And, please, call me Mark.” He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his pants. “I see you got lost in the Wall of Shame.”
I must look perplexed because Andy’s dad chuckles and lets his gaze wander over the frames. “It’s what Cecilia used to call it when she was an overdramatic thirteen-year-old.” He cocks his head to the side. “In all fairness, we had a picture here of the time she tried to dye her hair platinum blonde and ended up accidentally dying it gray.” The man smiles like it’s a fond memory. “Good times.”
“I’m guessing it worked as an effective punishment.”
“Oh yeah, no other crazy hair experiments as far as I know.”
We’re both quiet for a little while. I keep giving Andy’s dad glances out of the corner of my eye. I’m trying to find the resemblance to Andy. I want to know everything about Andy. How he became interested in physics. Where he got his sense of humor. What he was like when he was in preschool.
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