“Do youreally?” Cole took a measured step forward, towering over her. “Are yousureabout that?”
For a moment they were both frozen, breathing hard. Then Courtney lifted a single finger, poking Cole squarely in the chest.
“Stay thefuckaway from me. You’redisgusting.”
And then Melissa was by her side, leading her away.
I couldn’t breathe. I was frozen to the spot, my feet made of concrete, Hannah’s fingers digging into my arm. Cole was haunted, dazed, an animal caught in a trap, all of our classmates gathered to watch what he would do next. His eyes floated over mine, but it was as if he barely saw me. Slowly, he pushed through the crowd and back into the room where the music was still playing. A moment later, he reemerged, his tux jacket slung over his arm, and he began to stride toward the exit.
“Cole.” The word barely escaped my lips, a crackle of dry leaves. “Cole,wait!”
I lurched forward, willing my limbs to move, as if I was walking for the first time. He was already out thedoor, and I stumbled after him, not caring who saw or what they thought. I just knew I had tostophim, had totellhim —
He was halfway to the car by the time I stepped out into the night. “Cole, please —COLE!”
He stopped and turned in place. “Just leave me alone, Ezra.”
“No, I don’t want that —please, can we talk?”
“No.” Cole started suddenly, grabbing his hair with both hands. “Ezra, don’t you see?Youhave a choice. You can fit in if you want — and it looks like you have somebody waiting for you back there who wants to help you try.Me?I’m fucking poison. I fuck up everything I touch and I willruinyour life. Unless you’re gonna go back in there and tell everybody how many times we’ve fucked —”
My mouth was opening and closing as he glared at me, but the words were stuck.
Cole snorted. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Just — do me a favor and try to forget you ever met me.”
And he climbed into the car and peeled out of the parking lot, leaving me alone.
I watched him go, my brain a block of ice. I knew I should do something — move my feet, call him, make him come back. But I couldn’t — I didn’t —
“Ezra?”
Hannah was standing a little bit behind me, holding my jacket.
“Um — I called my mom to come and get us. It’s gonna be maybe half an hour, but she’ll be here. Just — come and sit down, okay?”
Mutely, I followed her, and we settled down on the curb next to the banquet hall. I wrapped my arms around my knees, hugging them to my chest, and Hannah moved a little closer, resting her head on my shoulder.
Cole had to listen to me — hehadto — he’d cool off and we would face this together and somehow we would — we would —
We wouldn’t see each other again. Not for another twelve years.
Fifteen
Just Call Him
August 2025
I AM A MISERABLE SACK OF SHITand I am going to die alone.
I’m back in my apartment in Brooklyn, twisted among the rumpled sheets on my bed, and I feel like I’ve spent the last twelve hours riding around in a cement mixer. Fuck, maybe I have. It’s early afternoon, and I’m delirious with exhaustion, but I can’t make my brain shut up long enough to sleep. After I left Cole standing in the middle of Bree’s lawn last night, I caught the last bus out of Hyannis to Boston, and then switched to a bus to New York at South Station.And somehow it felt right, bumping through the night with all the jagged pieces of myself stabbing me in the gut, arriving at Port Authority at dawn, just one more garbage bin to put out on the curb. I don’t know how the fuck I made it home, but I’m here now and I feel like shit and I look like shit and I smell like shit and I don’t know what I was thinking the past couple of months, acting like there was ever a way I was ever going to be happy.
It’s probably better that I remember what I really am.
Cole hasn’t called. Of course he hasn’t called. I can’t say I fucking blame him. Every time I picture his face, my stomach turns over. I’m a fucking bruise, an oozing flesh wound. I wouldn’t call me either.
With a groan, I drag myself out of bed, down the hall to take a piss. All I want is to lie down in the grass and pull the dirt up over me, but my fucking body insists on going about the business of living.
It’s when I’m standing in front of the kitchenette, forcing a glass of water down my throat, that my phone rings.
