I swallow. The air between us is heavy, and I want more than anything to reach across the distance we share and hug him. I’ve never wanted to touch someone so badly that it made my fingertips hurt. I wonder if Tucker even had time to grieve his mom before he was faced with the reality of an alcoholic father. “I’m so—”

“Please don’t say you’re sorry,” he interjects.

My mouth snaps shut and I nod like a fool.

He looks up at the lights twinkling above us.

I want to tell him that I wish he didn’t have to take care of his dad and that someone should be there to take care of him and that maybe we could take care of each other someday, but as I’m taking another sip of beer, a second-story window opens and Kyle Meeks climbs out.

“What the hell?” I say.

Kyle sits on the ledge of the window and screams, “ALEX WU! ALEX!”

Alex emerges from the crowd of baseball players and onlookers who have gathered around the beer pong table. “Kyle?” He looks up. “Kyle! Christ! Kyle, get down! Get down right now! I’m coming up there.”

“No, no, no,” Kyle says, his voice slurring, and it’s evident that something has definitely happened to Kyle since I last saw him and I think it involves his blood alcohol level. “I’m coming to you,” Kyle says as he begins to stand, fighting to maintain his balance on the sloped roof.

Everyone outside gasps and a whole mess of people flood out of the house to see what the hell is going on.

“He’s gonna jump! This kid is gonna jump!” someone shouts.

“Cannonball! Cannonball! Cannonball!” another person begins to chant, even though no one else joins in.

“Alex Wu,” Kyle says. “I love you with my whole heart and my very big brain and every one of my two hundred and six bones.”

“Boner,” someone snorts.

Others let out a soft awwww.

“Um, should I go help him?” Tucker asks.

“Maybe?” I say.

Kyle slips a little before steadying himself again.

“Definitely,” I confirm.

Tucker hands me his soda and sprints into the house.

Kyle wobbles and then braces himself on the window frame. “I’m sorry, Alex. I’m sorry for being a party pooper.”

“You’re not a party pooper,” Alex calls to him.

“Not anymore!” Kyle says, pumping both fists into the air. “I’m a party maker!”

The whole crowd erupts in cheers and hoots.

Behind Kyle, the light shifts as it appears that Tucker enters the room.

“Behind you!” someone shouts.

Kyle spins around with an en-garde stance and nearly falls off the roof, which could either be awful or fine, depending on how much air he gets and if it’s enough for him to land safely in the pool and not splat on the concrete.

Tucker catches him by the elbow and says something quietly. He is way too good at taking care of drunk people.

After a moment, Kyle nods and begins to climb back inside.

I unclench the fists I didn’t realize I was making.

A few people boo, and at the sound of that, Kyle wiggles out of Tucker’s grasp and takes a running leap off the roof. “I LOVE YOU, ALEX WU!” he shouts.

Alex screams and I close my eyes tight, because I may not exactly like Kyle, but I also don’t want to see him belly flop onto his parents’ patio.

I open my eyes in time to see the splash as he lands in the pool. The entire backyard full of people absolutely loses it, chanting his name. “Kyle! Kyle! Kyle! Kyle!”

Someone spots Tucker, who is now leaning out the window, watching the action unfold.

“Tucker! Tucker! Tucker!” the crowd says, changing their tune.

Tucker shakes his head and turns away. At least he’s got some sense.

But then he whirls around and launches himself through the window, cannonballing fully clothed into the pool. I hope his phone is waterproof.

With that, everyone starts dropping into the pool. Some people kick off their shoes and others undress completely down to their underwear.

But I stay right where I am, fully clothed and dry.

When Tucker surfaces from his cannonball, he whips around, his eyes searching until he sees me. I watch as he dives to the bottom of the pool and swims under people, through legs and arms, until he makes it to the edge of the pool closest to me.

With one finger, he beckons me closer.

I shake my head, fear and hope building inside me in equal measure.

He nods.

I stand up, kicking off my shoes and removing my socks. I shuffle to the edge of the pool where his fingers grip.

Taking a second to roll up the legs of my pants, I sit on the edge of the pool. Behind Tucker, Clem and Hannah fling themselves into the pool, their hands linked. Nothing in my life has ever felt more real than watching everyone I know have the time of their lives while I sit on the edge, only letting my feet get wet.

“Nuh-uh,” says Tucker, tugging at my ankles. “All the way.”

I cling to the concrete like it’s the only thing that can save me from drowning. “I’m good. I’m fine.”

To my left Willowdean and Ellen rip off their jeans and jump in side by side followed by the guy who came with them. Even Millie and Malik are in the shallow end, holding each other close. Beside Tucker, Corey and Simone sit on the diving board with their feet dangling in the water and their heads resting on each other’s shoulders.

Millie, Willowdean, and Mitch especially catch my eye. The other fatties. Their wet shirts cling to them and you can see everything clothing is meant to hide. Rolls and dimples.

But when this shirt gets wet, the only thing the whole school will see is Waylon Brewer and his man boobs.

“Come on,” Tucker pleads. “For me.”

I hold my breath and scooch a little closer to the edge.

The last time I got in a pool with anyone who wasn’t my family was when I took swimming lessons in fourth grade. I wore a shirt the whole time, but not even a shirt—which I swore to the whole class was only meant to protect me against sunburns—stopped the laughing and pointing.

But then I think about Kyle Meeks professing his love to Alex in front of everyone. And I think about Millie sitting behind her news desk every morning. And even Willowdean and her dashing boyfriend, who was humiliated for love in front of that whole restaurant. I think of Lee Way and Peppa Roni and even Mimi Mee. And Tucker, who moments ago told me about his mom dying.

I decide that probably no one at this party will die if they see a fat boy in a wet T-shirt bobbing around in the water with another boy.

I slither in and Tucker holds a hand out for me, but it doesn’t stop me from submerging completely in the water.

Under the surface, I hear Tucker let out a wild laugh, so I open my eyes against the sting of the chlorine, but Tucker’s gone.

I push off the floor of the pool, but he’s—

“Marco.” His lips are so close that they brush my ear.

Under the water, he takes one of my hands, and all the blood in my body rushes to—well, definitely not my brain.

“Polo,” I say, my voice raspier than I mean for it to be.

“Marco,” he says, kissing my neck.

I gasp. Chills run down my spine. We’re in a literal sea of people. This isn’t just him tugging on my wrist. This isn’t some indecipherable touch. This is lips on my neck. His lips. I can barely breathe. I want to kiss him. I want to do very filthy things with him that I can’t do in a pool full of people.