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A.J. rose on his tiptoes to brush a kiss against the crest of Bren’s temple, the faintest trace of gym-earned sweat setting his lips tingling.

“Ask me again in forty years.”

20

Tendrils of steam danced around A.J.’s outstretched palm and into the night sky. It was easy to forget that Moose Jaw had a geothermal spa downtown, once you’d seen it a hundred times. But as with everything else in town, the place had new life breathed into it by the presence of its most adorable import.

The reason for A.J.’s sudden surge of civic pride was floating an arms length away with his eyes fixed on the faint glow of the stars.

“How come we haven’t been here before?” The words were fuzzy around the edges, like the water had seeped into his vocal cords as well as the muscles that had been put through their paces for the last three weeks by the musical.

“Don’t float away, Wilson.” A.J. pulled at Bren’s ankle to keep him from floating into the pool’s opposite edge. The outdoor part of the pool was only twenty feet wide at best, so you didn’t have to go far to reach the end.

“What?” Bren asked, still showing his bellybutton to the stars.

A.J. pulled down on his boyfriend’s ankle, so the next time he saw him Bren was spitting water out of his mouth.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to drink that,” he said as Bren moved through sternum-high water to get to him.

“Don’t know what came over me, like,” Bren said, wrapping A.J. in a headlock. A.J. tried to wiggle out but Bren was too strong.

With nothing else to do about it, A.J. took a breath and slid off the stone into the water. In the writhing mess of bubbles, it occurred to him that pulling down Bren’s trunks might make for some good payback, but if they kept taking eyes, the whole world would be blind soon.

“Ugh, here they come.”

A.J. didn’t need to shake the water from his ears to clock that Bren hadn’t said that. Nat waded towards them, crouched so low in the water she was little more than a floating scowl. A group of schoolkids were headed their way, and Morgan was among them.

“Just promise me you’ll stop short of physical violence,” A.J. said, resuming his seat along the pool’s underwater benches.

“I’ll go and scream in the steam room like a civilized person when she pisses me off bad enough,” Nat said.

Bren raised an eyebrow but A.J. was sure he had enough sense by now not to try defending Morgan.

It would have been a lot easier to explain Nat’s loathing for her if SGA president was the kind of shitty girl that went around dumping pigs’ blood on people, but she was a subtler creature than that.

“If she says anything about my hair, all bets are off.”

He’d tried telling Bren that story, but from the way he shrugged at the end, it hadn’t done its job.

Back in grade eight, when Morgan had heard that Nat was planning on gelling her hair into liberty spikes for their graduation dance, she’d tried to get people to sign a dress code petition that she typed up herself. Something about it not being fair to everyone else if anyone pulled too much attention in photos—even though Morgan had worn a puffy pink dress that Glinda would have called gaudy.

Nat had showed up with her spikes in the end, paired with a pair of six-inch leather combat boots that she certainly wouldn’t have worn otherwise.

“Hey, at least Dustin isn’t ditching us this time just because he’s trying to get laid,” A.J. offered. Although from the look Nat gave him, that would have been the preferred option. She must have liked Dustin more than she let on, though, because she didn’t cuss at the mention of his name. Even though he’d been the one to invite Morgan along.

A.J. might have suspected him of trying to stir something up if he didn’t have the guile of a mildly concussed St. Bernard. Maybe that was why he got along with A.J.’s Irish setter so well.

“There they are!”

Dustin sloshed through the water and tackled Bren with a meaty arm as they vanished beneath the surface. Good thing the spa was dead tonight or they’d have some very upset sixty-year-olds glaring at them.

Morgan trailed in Dustin’s wake, her hair done up in a messy bun.

“Ugh, boys,” she said before her face brightened. “Sorry we’re late. Dustin took a while to get going.”

“Even her boyfriend doesn’t want to be around her,” Nat whispered from the corner of her mouth.

“It’s OK!” A.J. blurted, even though Morgan couldn’t have heard Nat above the splashing their boyfriends were making.