“Dad!” I choke out, this dark thundercloud settling over me. I know he’s trying to use dark humor to cope, but shit, it hurts. It hurts so damn bad that I can’t even let myself consider it, not right now, not when he’s still here to smile at me.

“Seriously though, what’s the worst that could happen: life in prison?” Charlie chuckles, but I can’t laugh at stuff like that, not right now. “I mean it though, you boys better not be screwing around with my Marnye-bear.”

“Sir,” Zayd says, shaking out his shoulders and exhaling. “I understand your concern, but I want you to know that … I’m in love with your daughter.” He grits his teeth, like this is one of the hardest things he’s ever done. “I have been since Halloween of first year, I just … we’re all mixed up in a bunch of bullshit.”

Holy fuck, did Zayd Kaiser just announce his love for me? And in front of my dad, too? I’m not sure if I should swoon or maybe just curl up and die of embarrassment.

“But we’re trying to get out of it,” Zack adds, looking at Charlie. “I won’t let anything like what happened during first year happen again. I’m in love with your daughter, too, and … I can never say enough about how sorry I am over what occurred in middle school. I’m willing to spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it.”

Aaaand, another surge of emotion I don’t know what to do with. It’s like there’s a rainbow inside of me, an emotion for every color, all blending together. I’m just not sure what’s waiting for me at the end of it.

“I’d also like to take this moment to profess my love,” Windsor says, putting his palm over his heart and lifting his chin. “It’s a royal proclamation.”

I snort, but it’s all nervous laughter, clapping my hand over my mouth.

The sound of scrambling comes from outside, and I glance over my shoulder to see Creed shoving Miranda out of the way. He comes in panting, two security guards grabbing onto his shoulders.

“Let him go; he’s harmless,” Windsor instructs, as the beautiful blond-haired, blue-eyed Cabot boy huffs and puffs, looking between me and Dad a few times before he steps forward and shoves Zayd aside. Zayd sneers at him, but doesn’t say anything.

“I love your daughter, too,” he says, and I swear, if there was a single spot on my body that wasn’t red, it would be now.

“Guys,” I start, as Tristan turns away suddenly, closing his eyes. He’s the only one who’s not going to say it, isn’t he? “You don’t have to say that.”

“It’s the truth,” Creed says, pushing blond hair off his forehead. “It’s … I’ve felt this way for a while.” Miranda comes up to stand on my other side, giving me a sympathetic sort of look. At least Lizzie’s not here to witness the whole thing, right?

“Are you happy, Marnye?” Dad asks, and I nod once, briskly but determinedly.

I mean, I am, but I’m not. I need you here to walk me down the aisle one day, Charlie. Please, please, please stick around for that.

“I am.”

“Okay then. Okay. My daughter has … five boyfriends.” He curses under his breath and shakes his head. “I’ll be damned.”

He wanders out to the porch, pops the top of one of his fancy apple ciders, and looks out at the vineyard.

“Well, that wasn’t embarrassing at all,” I whisper as Miranda gives me a huge hug.

“Come on, you can help me unpack my things and Andrew can tell you allll about his coming out story …”

Andrew grabs the wine, a pair of glasses, and a soda that he tosses over to me.

The boys watch us walk out, but they know better than to follow.

I need a minute.

How the hell am I supposed to choose now?

Fuck you, love. Like, seriously, fuck you.

“She bought you a rainbow jock strap?!” Zayd howls, rolling on his side with laughter as Andrew narrows his eyes in the lead singer’s direction. “That’s so cute, but so fucking misguided. I’m dying, I’m dying. No, I’m dead. I am hashtag-freaking-dead.”

“She’s at least trying,” Andrew says, his feet dangling in the pool. “My dad asked me not to hit on any of his business partners. Like, really? I almost snarkily asked him if he hits on every woman he sees, just because he’s straight, but … he kind of does. He’s such a piece of work.” Andrew sips his drink, and I realize he’s come a long, long way from the boy who denied his sexuality to everyone, including himself. The boy who took a forced engagement he didn’t want … and now is the proud owner of a rainbow jock strap.

“You know what my mom said when I told her I was a lesbian?” Miranda asks, and Creed rolls his eyes like he’s heard this story a thousand times. “She said thank god for that. Boys are so gross.”

“Isn’t that a sexist thing to say?” Creed retorts, and Miranda spins on him, standing wet and dripping behind her as she tries to sunbathe.

“First off, get the fuck out of my sun. Second, no. Don’t you understand that when women say all men are trash, it’s not hate speech, it’s just an anti-patriarchal movement that has more to do with the bullshit system rather than each individual dude on a personal level?”

“Uh, what?” Creed asks, but then Miranda just grabs him by the ankle and slides into the pool, dragging her twin with her. They splash me, and I laugh as water cools my overheated skin.

“I’m really glad you came out,” I tell Andrew, curling my fingers around the edge of the pool as I glance his way. He smiles back at me, and shrugs, like it’s no big deal.

“If it weren’t for you, I might not have ever done it.” He turns away and looks out toward the hills behind the house. These are covered in vineyards, too, but the grass is a dry brown-yellow color rather than the bright green that borders the front of the property.

“I can’t take any credit for that,” I tell him, but he just shakes his head.

“You stand up for what you want, regardless of how the odds are stacked against you. That’s something.”

I look away, but I don’t feel comfortable with the praise. I find my attention on Zack, sitting nearby in swim shorts and nothing else. He’s got a copy of that book, Groupie, and I’m pretty sure he stole it off my dorm room shelf. I’m okay with that, too. I’m glad somebody else is reading it, too. The main character’s dad … he gets cancer and dies.

I hate cancer.

I fucking hate it.

I stand up suddenly, and everyone goes quiet around me.

When I walk off by myself, nobody bothers me.

Our Thanksgiving meal is … cooked by Zack and Windsor. It’s a little weird to see them working together, especially at something other than bullying rich girls. Two filthy rich boys doing domestic chores. It’s kind … of cute.

Zayd’s also put on an apron, but mostly he just sits on the edge of the countertop and takes bites of things that are either half-cooked or too hot.

A beautiful rough-hewn wood table sits outside, decorated with gourds and pumpkins and clusters of freshly harvested grapes. We all sit together and eat, and the boys manage to keep their usual barbs and jibes at one another to a minimum. Charlie is laughing, the baseball cap he’s wearing casting strange shadows over his face.

I wear the charm bracelet he gave me during second year, and hold his hand through most of the meal.

Afterward, Windsor challenges the other boys to a polo match.

“I will watch, but that’s the best I can do,” I say, wanting to stay by Charlie’s side. Wind nods, and crosses one arm over his chest, tapping at his chin with a single finger.

“We need two teams of four.” He points at Tristan, the edge of his mouth curving up in a smirk. “What do you say, play opposite me as a team captain?”

“Fine by me,” Tristan says, and the two of them exchange a long dark look. “You want to make a wager out of it?”

“No, no, just a little friendly competition.” Windsor smirks as Tristan narrows his gray eyes.

“Right. Well, then, take your pick, Captain.”

“Zack,” Wind says, because really, he’s the obvious pick for anything even remotely sport related. “You do know how to play, don’t you?”

“Tell me the rules, and I’ll figure it out,” Zack says, giving Tristan a challenging sort of stare.

“Zayd,” Tristan retorts, and the rocker boy makes a little fist pump.

“Fuck yeah, let’s kill this shit.” The two of them exchange high-fives as Windsor turns to Andrew.

“You’re experienced with polo, aren’t you?” Andrew nods and Windsor waves him over to his side.

“Well, screw you, too,” Creed says, taking up Tristan and Zayd’s side. He doesn’t even need a verbal invitation. The Idol boys might not like each other, but they stand together. They were even united in their cruelty. There’s a perverse sort of loyalty there, don’t you think?

“Miranda, my dear, if you would,” Wind says, and she squeals, throwing her arms around his neck. Tristan’s team is rounded out with one of the security guards, and everyone disperses to get ready.