“Yeah, what was up with Courtney?” I asked. “That was nuts.”
Cole squeezed his eyes shut. “I probably shouldn’t have told her that I ‘broke up’ with my ‘girlfriend’ back home.”
I winced. “Hmm, probably not. Why did you tell her that?”
“Because it didn’t feel right anymore,” he murmured. “Not when I have a boyfriend right here.”
“Boyfriend?” We hadn’t talked about it, but the word felt warm in the cool air.
“Yeah, I mean — I thought — unless you —”
“I like it,” I said quickly, and he pulled me into a rib-cracking hug. I don’t know how long we stood there, simply holding on to each other, but finally he put his lips to my ear.
“We should go back inside before anyone comes looking for us,” he whispered, and I groaned.
“Fuck, I guess we should.”
When we returned to the house, the other kids were sitting in a circle in the living room, some on couches and chairs, and others on the floor. I found a spot on the rug, and Cole sprawled beside me, propping himself up on his elbows and stretching his long legs out into the center of the room.
“We were just going around the room and telling everyone our New Year’s resolutions!” Courtney trilled.
“Yeah, what’s yours, Ezra?” Melissa chimed in.
“Um —” Twenty pairs of eyes were on me, and my face was burning. “I don’t — actually believe in New Year’s resolutions.”
Beside me, Cole snorted, but everyone else in the room groaned. I soldiered on.
“I mean — if I want to change something about myself, I’m just going to do it. I’m not going to come up with a thing to say just because it’s January, because it’s not going to stick unless it really matters.”
“Fine,whatever.” Courtney rolled her eyes. “Cole, what about you?”
“I think my resolution is to be Ezra, actually. You know, tell it like it is no matter what.” There were titters around the circle, but when I looked over at Cole, he gave me the barest hint of a wink. “But also — I want to figure out how to live my life out loud. Be the person I actually want to be all the time. Make sure that the people I love know that I love them. You know, stuff like that. I think we all hide too much about ourselves.”
“Aww, that’s beautiful,” Courtney gushed. “Tyler, what about you?”
Tyler cleared his throat. “Well, I was gonna say that I’m gonna try not to jerk off more than once per day, but now I feel like a dick.”
The circle erupted into laughter and jeers, but Cole turned his head to look at me, his gaze steady. We couldn’t touch, not with so many people watching us, but I could feel his hand squeezing mine just the same.
Eight
It’s Not Complicated
June 2025
“YOU KNOW, EVERY TIME I COMEup here, people are sitting all over this monument, but I don’t think anybody actually knows what it’s for.” I’m practically bouncing on the balls of my feet. “Do you?”
“I do not.” Cole shoots me a glance out of the corner of his eye, and his mouth is twitching. “But it looks like you do! And I bet you want to tell me about it.”
“It’s the U.S.S.MaineNational Monument.” We’re standing at the intersection of 59th Street and Central Park West, on the northeast side of Columbus Circle, staring up at a massive marble edifice surrounded bystatuary. And the words begin to tumble out of me in a rush. “The sinking of theMainein Havana Harbor was the event that caused the outbreak of the Spanish-American War. Nobody knew what actually caused it — there was debate about it at the time, and there’s strong evidence today that the explosion that sank it was probably some sort of mechanical failure. But at the time, the newspapers were quick to blame it on the Spanish, and within a couple of months, we were at war.”
Cole shields his eyes from the glare, looking up at the monument. “Sounds like a lot of things that have been going on lately.”
“I guess that’s why they always say history repeats itself,” I agree. “The fundraising for this monument was kicked off by William Randolph Hearst, and he was in a fight with Joseph Pulitzer to see which of them could sell more newspapers. The phrase ‘yellow journalism’ was coined to describe the two of them, and without them I don’t know if we would have —”
I point behind us at the towering glass skyscraper with the golden marquee looming over our heads, and Cole turns, flipping it two enthusiastic middle fingers.
As he lowers his hands, he gives me an appreciative look. “This is what your book is about, right?”
