“Oh my God,” says Alex. “I’ve never been to a drag show. I can’t go to college without having been to a drag show. That’s like showing up to college a virgin.”

“Virginity is a construct,” I pipe in, hoping that no one notices the flush in my cheeks when I think about how maybe I never went far enough with Lucas. Or maybe we went too far. Who knows?

“Well, we’re going to this thing on Saturday,” Hannah proclaims and then points at me. “And you’re coming with.”

I don’t want to go. All I want to do is spend every weekend until graduation holed up in my room with reruns of Fiercest of Them All. “I guess it sounds fun,” I finally say.

“It’s a date then,” says Kyle.

Fifteen

On Friday morning, when I walk into first period, Tucker hands over his phone. “Your number. I need it.”

I look down at his lock screen to find a picture of a dog wearing a Princess Leia costume. “Who’s your girlfriend?”

“That’s Duke, and he’s a very good boy,” he tells me.

“In drag.”

He grins, and I realize that he’s got one of those goofy, lopsided smiles when he’s not trying to be cool. “Leia’s my favorite. Duke’s more of a Han, but I dressed as Han. I needed a Leia.”

“Well, I’m sure one day you’ll find the girl to be your Leia. Or maybe you’ll have to play dress-up with your dog forever.”

“I could think of worse things.”

I try not to smile, but I do. “Fair.” I type in my number and save it under first name: Waylon; middle name: Your; last name: Queen.

He checks my work. “Well, my queen, intel says we’re way behind the curve on these projects. In fact, I’ve heard Bekah and Hannah are nearly done with their projects and Callie and Mitch are halfway done. Not to mention our volunteer hours.”

I gasp. “Hannah has been radio silent.”

“Well, if she’s working with Bekah, she’s in it to win it.”

“What about you?” I ask, my brow arched. “Are you in it to win it?”

“I’m in it to not bomb this thing and look like a total dick.”

“Well, that might take some work.” The last bell rings and we take the only two seats left, side by side on the last row.

“What about tonight?” I ask. “We could get together and come up with a plan.”

“I have to work.”

If he didn’t work for my dad, I’d say he was full of shit and trying to flake on me all over again. “Tomorrow?”

He shakes his head. “Got plans.”

While Higgins is taking attendance, he leans over. “Did you just call me a dick, by the way?”

“Indirectly.”

His gaze narrows into a simmer as the morning announcements begin, and I have to remind myself to breathe.

I spend Friday night as the Lord intended: watching Fiercest of Them All bonus content and drag makeup tutorials that make contouring look like an art form. Hannah and Clem go out, and even though they dutifully invite me, I’m not really up for being their date-night third wheel, as romantic as that sounds.

On Saturday morning, I wake to a text from Tucker that is time-stamped 4:23 a.m.

Tucker: So no breakfast for the teachers. No spa day. What about oil changes?

You were thinking of me at 4 in the morning? I type, before hitting the backspace button until the message box is blank again. If I think too much about him and four a.m., I start to wonder what his room looks like and his bed and what he wears to bed and—I type a message back. When in doubt, give them snark.

Waylon Your Queen: I never took that course at Masculinity Prep.

The moment my message goes through, the three little dots indicating that he’s typing a response appear.

Tucker: I could teach you. You could be my assistant.

Waylon Your Queen: I’m not really the assistant type.

Tucker: I’m running low on ideas here. And I guarantee no one’s ever done this before.

Waylon Your Queen: Don’t you need some kind of certification to work on people’s cars?

Tucker: It’s not like we’re charging. Think of it like changing your mom’s tire.

Tucker: My dad was a mechanic, so I’ve got everything we could need.

Waylon Your Queen: Have I mentioned how much I dislike manual labor?

Tucker: You can be the beauty. I’ll be the brawn.

Waylon Your Queen: Fine. But we have to wear matching coveralls.

Tucker: Yes, your highness.

Clem steps through my open door, catching me mid-giggle. “What’s so funny?”

My smile falls. “Nothing.”

“We need to talk, Waylon.”

I let out a long groan and bury my head in a pillow.

“I’m tired of this weird, polite silent-but-not-silent treatment you’re giving me. You won’t even yell at me!” She sits down on the corner of my bed. “I’m not leaving until we talk.”

I’m not ready for this conversation. I don’t think I’ll ever be. “So if I say nothing, you won’t abandon me for Georgia?”

She shoves my shoulder. “That’s not fair.”

I close my eyes and inhale deeply, trying not to say something I’ll regret. “What’s not fair, Clem, is that we had a plan.”

“You keep saying, but you had a plan, Waylon. It’s always been your plan. We were supposed to go to Austin Community College to figure out who we wanted to be and what we wanted to do. But I know those things already. I want to go to engineering school, and I got in. Dad has spent his whole life building and fixing things and now I want to learn how all those things work. I want to know the science and reasoning behind it all. Isn’t that great? I know what I want to do and someone is going to let me do it. Can’t you be happy for me?”

My shoulders sink. “Honestly? I’m having a really hard time with that. I’m not sad that you know what you want to do.” Except . . . maybe I am. Maybe Clem knowing what she wants not only makes me feel like a failure, but also deeply lonely. “You could have told me this months ago and I would still have had time to make other plans or at least process this. We’ve been connected at the hip for eighteen years, Clem. If you’re going to pull the rug out from under me, you could at least give me a little more warning. Were you just going to leave one day and call me from the road?”

She scoots down the bed toward me, and begins to undo her braids, which is code for you can play with my hair. “I love being your twin. It’s one of the most important things I am, but we can’t always be Waylon and Clem. Sometimes you have to be just Waylon and I have to be just Clem. Didn’t you ever wonder what your plan would be if it weren’t something that had to work for both of us?”

My eyes well with tears. “No, actually, I hadn’t. I just. I thought it would always be the two of us.”

Her expression softens at the sight of me letting my guard down. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was scared. It was wrong. Everyone told me so, even Hannah.” She grimaces. “I was so scared you would hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” I mutter. “I wish I could. That would be way easier. Instead my stupid, stone-cold heart only cares about a few people and you happen to be one of them. I build up walls, Clem, I know that. But it makes it so much harder when someone inside the wall hurts me, because I’m not in the business of letting people in.”