I don’t know how Darryl’s mom could miss such a moment. All the other parents are riveted to the stage, and even mine are taking in the three graduates they know. But Darryl doesn’t seem to have noticed his mom’s lack of attention, since he’s currently clapping Tristan on the shoulder with a beaming smile, so at least he knows he has people who care.
And then it’s Marcus’s turn to walk the stage. His eyes lift to find his parents, and then they shift to me, and another unspoken conversation takes place. Even from a distance, I can feel how his eyes reach inside of me and flay me out—picking through my secrets and laying me bare.
I don’t know how or why he has the effect on me he does. I barely even know the guy beyond the list of reasons he’s off-limits, but somehow, when he looks at me like this, I feel like he knows me on a level that goes deeper than human comprehension. It isn’t something as mundane as knowing or understanding everyday details; it’s cosmic, universal, and making me spew poetry in my head like some lovesick fool.
I don’t know why I can’t keep my shit straight with this guy. But it’s his graduation day, and I’m not about to be a jerk about it either. So I smile at him, and his handsome smile widens in response.
For them, it’s the end of one chapter and the beginning of another, all wrapped up in a beautiful speech by Tristan that brings tears to my eyes and makes Qi’s tears flow.
An obscene amount of pictures are taken before the parents disperse. The group of us heads over to Marcus’s for another night of celebration, only this time it’s inside, watching movies with promises from both Paxton and Owen to behave and not break the furniture with their crazy antics.
MOVIES & BOUNDARIES
Qiang’s POV
After grabbing a quick dinner, Tristan’s and Qi’s friends all head over to the built-in movie theater Marcus has at his house. The room is designed after an actual cinema theater, with a huge screen dominating the front wall, a projector in the back, and rows of seats arranged on a floor that slopes from the back to the front. However, the seats are comfortable recliners and love seats, rather than the uncomfortable chairs at public theaters. There’s a row of lights that runs up the floor towards the exit, along with several movie posters hung on the walls that feature what I assume are some of their favorite movies.
Marcus’s house is a white-stone-and-grey-brick estate in a gated community on the outskirts of the city. It’s massive and every bit as intimidating as Tristan’s house is. Not necessarily because they are intimidating, but more because I sometimes forget how wealthy they are until I see it laid out in front of me like this. I know from several conversations Qi and I have had about it that he gets randomly overwhelmed by it sometimes, too.
We aren’t from this kind of wealth. Our parents struggled hard toafford the education we got and continue to receive, by helping with whatever tuition the scholarships and my makeup channel don’t cover. They probably would have had a lot more wiggle room in our finances if Qi and I had just gone to public school, but education is huge for my parents, and it was a higher priority than fancy houses and cars.
It’s a gift that I never took lightly, and one that I nearly destroyed during my senior year of high school. I’ve worked hard since then to prove to them that I care, and I’ll continue to put everything I’ve got into the opportunities given to me so they know I don’t take the sacrifices they’ve made, and continue to make for me, for granted.
It’s something I need to keep in mind when Marcus’s deep eyes penetrate my skin, because the last time I got drawn in this deep was when I nearly ruined everything. My future and my parents’ sacrifices would have been wasted if it weren’t for the blackmail that I still keep tight to my chest.
“If we’re going with romance, then I vote forSausage Party,” Owen says, pulling me out of my thoughts before they can spiral too deep into ugly memories.
“In what universe isSausage Partya romance?” Darryl asks.
“Dude, they’re literally building up to fuck through that whole movie. How is that not romance?” Owen points out enthusiastically.
“How are you friends with these guys?” I ask Qi for what is probably the seven-billionth time in the years he’s been friends with them.
Qi just shoots me a wide-eyed grin, and I already know the answer. They made him feel accepted when he was struggling to make friends. They’ve always seamlessly included him in everything, and while their personalities are massively different and they’ve definitely had their struggles, their bond runs deeper than just having shit in common.
That’s really just the nice way of saying, even though they take things too far sometimes, they usually just amuse the shit out of Qi. Their antics help him not take life as seriously as he’d probably take it without them distracting him from his tendency to overthink. It’s anopposites attract kind of thing. He’s probably the biggest reason they can think critically at all, even if it is in small doses, and they keep him from overthinking until he makes himself sick.
“That movie is literally a cartoon about a food orgy,” Darryl points out.
“Sounds like it’s right up their alley then,” Tristan murmurs in Qi’s ear, and Qi throws his head back and laughs.
Paxton is completely undeterred as he rushes to Owen’s defense. “Exactly! It’s the perfect recipe for romance!” he says before he looks at Qi. “See what I did there?Recipebecause it’s afoodorgy romance,” he points out excitedly, always happy to show off any inkling of intelligence to Qi.
“Preach it, man,” Owen says, reaching his hand up to bump knuckles with Paxton.
“Jesus Christ,” I huff under my breath, massaging the ache in my temples that feels chronic whenever I’m around these two.
“They’re a breed all on their own,” Marcus saysfartoo close to my ear with amusement.
I roll my eyes at his statement while trying to hide the shiver from his breath against my ear. “Tell me about it.”
Marcus snorts out a laugh. “I’m surprised you put up with it so well,” he observes.
I shrug my shoulders. The others are still engaged in a debate over what movie to watch, and it sounds as thoughSausage Partyis being heartily discarded as an option, thank fuck for that.
“Most of the time they’re harmless, just ridiculous and toxically crass at times,” I answer Marcus’s curiosity, knowing we’re talking too quietly to be overheard with the debate the rest of them are engaged in.
“Most of the time?” Marcus breathes, and I can hear the question in it, the nudge for details.
