My eye twitches as I give the tall, lean form of Tobias McCarthy a scathing look.

“Travel takes money, and billionaires horde it all and don’t pay fair wages, so what do you think the answer to that question is?”

“Take a seat, Chuck, and relax,” Micah says, scooting around behind me and flopping into one of the spots around the dining table. I grab the one across from him and Spencer slides in next to me. Ranger, Tobias, and Church, on the other hand, take up the sofas in the narrow ‘living room’.

I’m still recovering from the embarrassment of the other day, you know, when the others found me and Church cuddled up with a wrinkled wedding dress. I’d just as soon stay over here. Five for five, right, Spence? I think, buckling my seatbelt and tapping my fingers on the surface of the table. We’re sort of waiting for Elizabeth and David who got caught up making out outside. That happens, a lot, apparently, the Montagues getting lost in each other.

“Champagne?” a flight attendant asks, and I glance Church’s way. He gives a slight shrug of his shoulder.

“My parents will likely be on their laptops or gazing into one another’s eyes for most of the flight; they don’t care if you drink.”

I accept some champagne then, and clink glasses with Micah and Spencer.

“On our way out of the country, and goodbye crazy cult,” I mumble under my breath, leaning my head back and taking a long drink. I promised Dad that I wouldn’t go to Eric Warren’s house, and I intend to respect that.

But Ranger’s going.

The others are going to stay behind and watch over me.

It’s a crapshoot, but it’s worth a shot, right?

At the very least, I get a trip to London.

“Do poor people always wear dirty, mismatched socks with sandals on multi-million-dollar private jets?” Micah asks as Spencer grins. They love teaming up to pick on me. I kick his shin under the table and he makes a face at me.

“They’re not dirty! They’re just … discolored from lots of use, okay? God. Give me some credit.”

“Uh, are sandals with mismatched socks cool to wear to London in winter?” Spencer asks, and I give him a look. “Please don’t tell me you’re wearing those dirty boy’s underwear you like so much.”

“They were never dirty,” I grumble, poking him in the arm as the Montagues finally board the plane. Elizabeth blows through like a hurricane force wind, a presence to be reckoned with. I look down at the ring and then back up at her, a weight lifted from my chest.

This is never how I saw my life going, but … I like the direction it’s taking.

I like being engaged to Church, and baking naked with Ranger, watching gay porn with Spencer (we totally did once), drag racing with Micah, practicing martial arts with Tobias.

“Shall we?” Elizabeth asks, giving Church another kiss on the forehead before settling into her seat.

The flight attendants sit down, fasten their seatbelts, and we prepare for takeoff.

“You look so West Coast,” Ranger whispers to me, Tobias, and Micah. I might be wearing sandals with socks, but they’re rocking big, poofy sleeveless vests with fur around the necklines, and shorts. “Cold as hell, foggy, drizzling. You guys are ridiculous.”

“But the tour guide said he’d never heard someone describe Westminster Abbey as dope AF, right? That’s something!” I’m in a good mood now, sipping my to-go tea and enjoying the relative quiet of the countryside as we walk up a curving hill toward Highgate Cemetery. We’re getting a private tour today, and I’m beyond excited.

“Oh, that’s something alright,” Ranger says with a roll of his eyes. He can’t deny it though: he likes my goofiness, he admitted it.

We’ve done a full round of touristy things—the Natural History Museum and the British Museum some of my faves—but I’m excited to get away from the crowds for a while and take a breather.

“I can’t believe we drove all the way out here to see a bunch of dead people,” Spencer says, spinning a black umbrella above our heads as we approach a pair of open gates, one on either side of the road. The part of the cemetery we’re starting with is only open to tours, while the other side is open to the public. Regardless, they’re both equally creepy, stepped in fog, and perfectly horror movie-esque in appearance.

“Less interesting than dead people,” Micah says as we cross the street and Church inquires with the woman in the gift shop about our tour. “Rocks sitting on top of dirt where dead people are buried. Yawn-fest.”

“This was the one thing on my list, so slow your roll, dickhead,” Ranger says, tucking his hands into his black cargo pants as he studies the brick arch above our heads. “I like this kind of shit.”

“No, you want to like this kind of shit,” Spencer says, turning his phone around and flashing a video of border collie puppies herding ducklings. “But in reality, this is your thing, man. Just accept it.” Ranger slaps the phone away from his face and pretends not to be interested, but there’s that twinkle in his eyes that he just can’t hide.

“This way, my friends,” Church says, gesturing us out of the gift shop and to a central courtyard area where our tour guide’s waiting. The old man introduces himself and then starts off on a speech about the cemetery. Meanwhile, my eyes are already wandering the tree-covered hill behind him, gravestones peeking out of the shadows.

My neck prickles with unease, and I look around, expecting to see those creeps in fox masks waiting for me next to a mausoleum. There’s nobody and nothing there when I search the landscape, but the feeling’s pretty persistent as we trudge up the hill, pausing next to certain graves to hear the stories about them.

At first, I’m pretty skeptical, but the further we get into the tour and the cemetery, the more I start to dig it. There’s a section of the cemetery called Egyptian Avenue that looks like a set for an adventure film. According to the tour guide, there’s a rare type of spider that lives in the tombs here that requires total darkness to thrive.

“But don’t worry,” he says with a laugh and a wave of his hand, “they can’t come out during the day, so you’re perfectly safe.” I start down the dark hall, lined with tombs on either side, and keep my arms wrapped around myself.

“This so freaking creepy,” I murmur as the twins sneak up behind me. One of them pulls my collar back, and the other drops something with legs onto my spine. With a shriek, I start tearing my sweatshirt off and flailing around while Ranger curses under his breath, and Spencer steps in to grab my arms.

“Hey, hey, hey, Chuck-let,” he whispers as the McCarthy boys snicker at me. I can’t exactly see them because my hoodie’s pulled up over my face but Spencer stops me from taking it off the rest of the way, tugging it back down again. “It’s just a plastic spider this time.”

“This time,” I groan, sagging in relief and then noticing the rather cool breeze across my midsection. “My bra is showing, isn’t it?” I ask, thinking of that scene in Mean Girls where the teacher tries to pull her sweater off and ends up taking her shirt along with it. Yep, that’s what’s happening to me now. “The one with the see-through lace and bows?”