“Why did they have you and Tara in?” He’s sitting upright with tension in his shoulders. “She’s not in trouble, is she?”
“The security cameras caught me and Tara in one of the hallways. We must have lost you guys somewhere before that.” The lie sits heavy in my throat. “It was just, just bad timing.” I stretch my arms above my head, avoiding Troy’s eyes. “Got sixty hours of community service, but that’s it.”
“Together?” Troy’s question hangs in the air.
“Yeah.” I force myself to meet his gaze. “The dean’s got some buddy system policy.”
Troy studies me for a while, and I can tell he’s grappling with the same protective instinct that led him to always make sure either he or one of us accompanied Tara home from parties over the last two years. But he just nods, turning back to his phone.
“Could’ve been worse,” Ethan pipes up. “In high school, I took vodka in a water bottle and drank it in English class. I got suspended for a week!”
“It’s good to know you’ve always been like this.” Troy sighs.
“I’d say that’s a suitable punishment for underage drinking on school property,” I say, grateful for the distraction.
“Where’s Freddie?” Changing the topic seems like a good idea.
“Facetime,” they answer in unison.
Of course. Freddie’s girlfriend – and Tara’s best friend – Alex has gone to California for summer, just as the two of them finally got together. I like Alex. She’s fiery and stubborn and makes Freddie stupidly happy. The kind of happy that makes him walk into walls because he’s too busy texting her.
Sometimes I watch them together, or catch Troy talking about past relationships, and it’s like they’re speaking a language I never learned. They understand something instinctively that I have to study like a foreign concept. They give love so... freely. So openly. As though their well won’t run dry, as though caring deeply won’t eventually hollow you out.
The closest I’ve seen to genuine love was my grandpa with his telescopes. Maybe that’s why I understand stars better than people - at least their patterns make sense.
I head toward the back door, needing air.
“Hey, Alfie!” Ethan calls after me. “Can I look through your wardrobe later? I’m going to a funeral and need something to wear that doesn’t make me look fat – OW!”he yelps, presumably Troy has thrown something at him. Troy is a smart man.
His laughter follows me as I flip him off without turning around, but I’m grinning to myself anyway.
Later that night,I find Troy outside in the back yard, sprawled in one of our beaten-up lawn chairs with a joint dangling from his fingers. Inside, Ethan’s still trying to beat Freddie’s high score on Mario Kart, their shouts echoing through the house. The smell of Troy’s famous fajitas lingers in the air. It’s our last proper house dinner before they leave for summer. Troy and Ethan were supposed to leave on Saturday but claiming to be “too hungover to survive,” they’ve extended their stay until tomorrow.
“Here.” Troy holds out the joint, eyes fixed on the darkness beyond our yard. “You look like you need this more than I do.”
I take it, sinking into the chair beside him. The night air feels heavy with everything we aren’t saying. Troy’s been my best friend since freshman year - the one who showed up when Father went on his rampages about my “waste of a degree,” who let me crash in his room that Christmas I couldn’t face going home. But now there’s this edge between us, sharp and unfamiliar.
It’s been building since I got back from the dean’s office. Since he found out about the community service. About Tara. My pathetic attempt at explaining why the cameras only caught us in that hallway still hangs in the air.
“Listen,” he starts, and something in his voice makes my chest tight. “About the community service?—”
“We were just trying to get Alex’s poster.” The lie comes automatically now. Easier than explaining how I’ve been thinking about kissing his sister since that first party. “That’s all.”
“Right.” He takes the joint back, exhaling slowly. “And you just happened to get caught with my sister.”
The way he sayssistermakes it clear exactly what he’s thinking. What he suspects.
“She got that job at Luzia,” he blurts. “Starts this week.”
I nod, tasting copper from biting my cheek.
“Oh yeah?” I keep my voice carefully neutral, but my fingers tighten on the armrest.
“Yeah.” He pulls at the hair on his scalp. “Won’t listen when I tell her it’s not safe. You know how she is, she thinks she’s invincible. The world is beautiful and all that shit.”
I did know. It was one of the things I liked about her. That fearlessness. But Luzia isn’t some college bar where the worst thing you’ll deal with is frat boys trying to get free drinks. It attracts a different crowd, trust fund kids over summer spending a shit ton of money, entitled executives who think their black cards buy them whatever they want. People who I know well. I grew up with them.
Tara’s sweet in a way that could get eaten alive in a place like that. But she’s also smart and capable, and I’ve seen how she handles the guys at college parties. She can hold her own.
