• • •

There's a slight chance that Gray and I have left this essay too late. We've barely touched it in two weeks except to make a couple of loose outlines and now it's due tomorrow, and it turns out a five-page critical book review is a lot harder when you haven't read the book. It's only seventy-eight pages. I have no excuse.

I think I should be more stressed about this but with Gray in the same boat, it's not so scary to be unprepared.

"You know what?" Gray rolls over on the end of my bed, where he's reading the damn book while I'm scouring the internet for as many opinions on the story as I can find. We're hoping that there's enough online that we can just pick and choose and cut down on our workload.

"What?"

"I think it would be a lot easier to write a report on why this book sucks, and is not worth finishing. It'd definitely be critical, and kind of a review."

"And a fast-track pass to a failing grade," I say, crossing off a review that turns out to be from a precocious middle-grader's blog. "I think we're best off doing exactly what he wants."

Gray groans. "How uninspiring. Just like this damn book."

I'm beginning to regret arranging a date with Liam for tomorrow. There's a high chance I'm going to have to skip class just to finish this thing. It's nearly five already, only thirty-one hours to go, and I know my motivation will drop as soon as I have dinner. Whatever Mom and Tad are cooking smells like heaven.

"We can do it." I hole up my notebook, where I've been jotting down recurring and important themes that keep cropping up in other reviews I've read. Gray isn't alone in thinking that the book sucks. It doesn't seem too popular online. "We've got our outlines and we've got points for them, and I've even got a whole bunch of quotes. We just need to flesh it all out in a couple of essays that are different enough not to be flagged as plagiarism.

"Ok. No biggie."

"Exactly."

"I was being sarcastic. It's a big biggie," he says. "This is only our first college assignment. How are we screwing it up already?"

"Because it's our first assignment." I poke him with my big toe. "And we're not screwing it up. We're doing fine. The only thing that isn't fine is your attitude," I say, shooting him a look. He wrinkles his nose at me and sticks out his tongue. Sometimes he seems like my counsellor but sometimes he just seems like a little kid.

He may be the smartest guy I know, and the only person with a perfect GPA who doesn't stress me out, but he hates essays as much as I do. I'm beginning to rethink declaring my major when I applied, but I had already been out of high school for a year and I was running out of time to apply for this year: I wanted to seem certain, not to mention the financial aid boost.

"Ugh." He harrumphs and rolls onto my foot, splaying the book across his face. "I just want to eat."

"Mom said dinner's at six thirty," I say, "so we have more than ninety minutes to go. So let's try to write two pages."

"Jesus! Two pages in ninety minutes?"

"It's really only one page," I say. "And the introduction will take up half of that. Just BS an intro."

He sits up with a sigh. The book drops into his lap, losing his page. I'm pretty sure he wasn't really reading anyway, the amount he's been complaining. "I'm gonna do it," he says.

"Good. If we do two before dinner, we only have three to do tomorrow and that's nothing."

"No, no, I mean I'm gonna do my critical review on why it's not worth finishing," he says. He holds up the book and taps the title. "I mean it. It's super racist. Crap like this shouldn't even be on the syllabus." Suddenly animated and grinning, he almost falls off my bed when he grabs his laptop, and he starts writing.

Ninety minutes later, Gray shuts his laptop and grins at me. I've just about managed a page and a half so far, citing my references as I go else I know I'll lose them, but he is looking suspiciously pleased with himself.

"What'd you do?" I ask as we head downstairs.

"I wrote five pages."

"Just now?"

"Well, they're double-spaced. So really, it's only, like, three pages." He grins and swings down the steps as though he's in a musical, and I grab the back of his shirt when he trips over a step.

"You seriously just wrote five full pages?"

He nods and then shrugs a shoulder. "Five ranting pages," he says. "Maybe one third of an actual academic page. And no references. But I can polish it, which may take a hundred times as long as it took to write it."

"Oh my God, Gray. Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Nope," he says. "I honestly have no idea, but I want to try."

"And if you fail?"

He shrugs. "Then I fail. And that makes my point even more."

I'm in awe of him, and slightly concerned that he'll fail for the first time. I don't have a clue how he'll handle that. As much as Gray exudes calmness and confidence, my unshakeable rock, I think he'll be upset if he gets anything below a ninety.

I've learnt that an occasional seventy isn't the end of the world – I've had my fair share below that – but I'm not sure he'll know how to deal with it. But I'm not going to force him to change his idea. Worst case, he just learns a lesson about the futility of originality in education. I wish I had his guts, but I can't bring myself to stray from the professor's guidelines.

The tantalizing smells get stronger the closer we get to the kitchen, where Mom and Tad are standing in front of the stove. They're almost the same height. Somehow I haven't noticed that before. Tad's barely an inch taller than Mom, his head hardly tilted to kiss her.

His hand is on her waist. Hers is on his chest. They look comfortable together, like they belong together. That isn't a first kiss. It isn't even a third. They look like a real couple.

I come to a stop before they notice us. Gray crashes into me and he opens his mouth but shuts up when he sees what I'm seeing. I don't want to interrupt. That'll only fluster Mom, and that's the last thing I want to do. She needs this. She needs Tad.

But my heart is doing funny things in my chest, caught between joy, relief, and a strange sense of melancholy.

Gray pulls me away from the door. I trip after him, almost falling down the three steps from the porch to the driveway. He shades his eyes from the sun, squinting at me.

"About time," he says with a quiet laugh, but I'm still processing my feelings, too caught up in my own head to respond. It's one thing to want Mom to move on; it's another thing entirely to see it in action. She loves Tad. He loves her. They're not just making out. They're in love.

Gray's eyes are still on me. His face changes when he sees my inner turmoil scrawled across my eyes and he grabs my hand as though something awful has just happened. "Storie? Are you ok?" he asks, genuine concern lacing his voice.

I nod. I am ok. I'm absolutely fine. I'm happy for Mom. It's just strange to see Mom kiss someone who isn't Dad. But I'm fine. This is good. For all of us. Unless they break up, in which case it's terrible for all of us. I'm struck by the sudden fear that if Mom and Tad don't work out, I'll lose Gray.

He doesn't say anything but he hugs me and I feel better in a flash, as though he has some kind of calming effect on me. If Gray's essence could be bottled, it'd be priceless. He's the perfect antidote for my anxiety, one hug enough to calm my storming mind.

"This is good," he says, squeezing my hand, and I know he's right. I know it's good. "Ready to eat?"

"I'm starving."

He grins and pulls me back towards the door. "So let's eat."

• • •

Mom and Tad are officially dating. They told us over dinner. It was hardly a surprise, but it still made me catch my breath when the words actually left Mom's mouth. Apparently they've been together for a month now, which isn't a surprise either – they've seemed like a couple ever since a few weeks after we moved here – and they decided it was time to tell us.

My mind instantly went to the future when I realized what Mom was saying, when she kept hold of Tad's hand after she finished saying grace and said she wanted to talk to us. I can't help it when my mind races miles ahead, instantly wondering where I'll find a nice bridesmaid's dress or which house we'll sell when they want to move in together.

Now Gray and I have some time to process the news: once we finished eating, Mom and Tad headed to the Five Oaks town hall for line dancing lessons and Gray and I wandered down to the beach.

The weather's absolutely perfect for lying on the sand and dabble in the lake's gentle waves, and the constant rhythm of the water lapping at the shore is soothing my soul. It's just past seven, the sun still warm and the sky still blue, and my head is clear. Mom's happy; Tad's happy; Gray's happy.

I'm happy too. Scratch that. I'm over the moon. Mom is too. I haven't seen her so bright-eyed in a while but she was beaming the entire time she was talking and that smile never left her face as we ate. Just thinking about it brings a smile to my face.

"You look happy," Gray says when he comes back after a swim in the lake. He dries off and squirts sunscreen into his hands, rubbing it into his bare chest and his arms before he lies down and smears it across his face too.

"I feel happy." I don't care about the essay. I can finish it tomorrow. Right now, I just want to enjoy the weather and the fact that life is actually going really well. There were times I thought Mom would never move on; I never thought I'd fall for a guy in college. Or rather, I never thought a college guy would fall for me.

But Mom's in love. I'm in ... something. The L word is a bit big right now, but I think I'm going in the right direction. I know I am.

"So," I say, turning my cheek against my towel to look at Gray. He's lying next to me, arms crossed behind his head. The sun makes his skin glow.

"So," he says.

"Have you thought any more about Navya?" I ask. He smiles and looks at me.

"I think that maybe it wouldn't be terrible to ask her out for coffee," he says. "But I don't have the best track record with dating. I don't want to make it awkward for you if I screw it up."

I laugh and prop myself up on my elbows, pushing my sunglasses to the top of my head so I can see him properly. "You're not going to screw it up. You're pretty similar people and you both think the other is cute, and you're both crazy about books. It's a recipe for success."

His grin widens. "Ok. If you say so."

"I think it'll go well."

"First time for everything," he says.

"You've just had bad luck and you've had crushes on terrible people," I tell him, "but you're a phenomenal person – like, in the top fraction of a percent of the world – and Navya's a total sweetie."

He looks at me like I've just told him he's a royal or something, a boyish joy on his face. He raises his eyebrows, eyes huge and fixed right on me. "Do you think she'd mind if you gave me her number?"

"Not at all."

"I don't want to just, like, slide into her inbox uninvited," he says, wincing as he shades his eyes from the sun.

"Want me to ask her if I can give it to you?"

He gives me a shy nod. I've never seen this version of Gray before. Gray with a crush. I give him as warm a smile as I can muster and reach for my phone, aware of his eyes on me as I type out a message to Navya.

hey, would you mind if I give gray your number?

I show him the screen and as soon as he gives me a smile of approval and a blushing nod, I send it. Almost immediately, a blue tick marks the message as read and Navya starts typing back and I hold back a chuckle when a barrage of messages start piling in.

OMG YES!!!!

I MEAN NO IDONT MIND ATALLLL

omg did he actually ask? im dying. give it to him

so I can give it to him ;) ;)

wait he's not reading these right lmao

My screen is angled away from Gray, thankfully, so he can't see Navya's slightly crazy side – though I think it would complement his slightly crazy side pretty nicely. "She's definitely ok with me giving you her number," I say, and I send it to him in a text. When his phone buzzes, he grabs it as though the message will be a surprise, and he grins as he adds Navya's number to his contacts.

"Is she working tomorrow?" he asks. "When you're seeing Liam?"

"Yeah," I say, "but she finishes class at twelve on Monday and she doesn't work then."

"Awesome." He grins and for almost a minute, he's glued to his phone before he zips it into my bag and lies back as though he has accomplished a mammoth mission.

"You're not gonna talk to her?" I ask, beginning to wonder if Gray's a bit more hopeless as a date than he is as a friend.

"Not right now," he says. "I asked if she wants to grab a coffee on Monday and she said yes and I said I'm with you right now and I'll text her later."

He makes it sound so easy, and he's so relaxed. He just asked a girl out on a date without breaking a sweat, and he didn't spend a year agonizing over how exactly to word the text. He just did it. That's the Gray I know – confident and cool as a cucumber – and he flashes me his usual beam before he lies down again.

But the sun is still hot and it isn't long before we both end up in the water. The skirt of my swimsuit fans out around my waist as we float in the wonderfully cold lake, lazily paddling my arms to stay afloat.

"This is heaven," he says, floating next to me with a pool noodle under his armpits. He never comes to the beach without one. "If I ever get the chance to choose what my afterlife will look like, I think it'll be this."

"Floating in a questionably clean lake?" I ask. He rolls his eyes and bumps into me when his aimless paddling turns him in my direction.

"More like hanging out with my best friend on a beautiful day at a quiet beach on a pretty lake with a date to look forward to," he says, hooking his foot over my ankles so he doesn't float away. We couldn't go far. Even if the gentle tide washes us away, the water's shallow enough to stand in for at least a hundred feet.

"I'm heaven-worthy, huh?"

"Undoubtedly," he says, letting go of me to float in a lazy circle before he ends up at my side again with a loopy grin. He links his slippery arm with mine and lets out a happy sigh. "I could stay here forever."

"Mmm," I hum in agreement. There really is nothing better than hanging out together on the beach, floating as though I don't have a care in the world. There's a lot I should be caring about right now, mostly schoolwork, but I want to enjoy this moment while I can.

It's not often the beach is this quiet. Five Oaks may be a small town, but on an evening like this, the sand is often dotted with families and couples. Aside from an elderly couple sitting together way down the beach, we're alone and I want to soak in the evening.

"What time is it?" Gray asks after what feels like forever. My hands are so wrinkled that they hurt and judging by the colour of the sky, the sun is close to setting.

"Must be nearly nine," I say, amazed that we've been lounging out in the water for so long. It's so easy to talk about everything and nothing, from the big-ticket items such as my dad and Gray's mom, to the middle of the scale where Liam sits, and now Navya too, right down to the minutiae of life. Gray has recounted his favourite books this year, out of hundreds that he's read.

"Wow." Gray looks at his hands, marveling at how shriveled his skin is. "Maybe we should head back. Big day tomorrow." He nudges me and winks at me. "Big date, eh?"

"A bite to eat and a movie," I point out, but that doesn't stop his eyebrows from dancing above bright eyes. "It's not like I'm staying the night."

"Who knows? You might," he says.

"Then how would you get home?"

He shrugs. "That's not important. If you want to stay the night, just let me know," he says. "I think there might be a bus, like, twice a day. Or I could sleep in your car. Or at the foot of Liam's bed." He paddles away and splashes me before I can shove him.

As we're heading back to our stuff left in a pile in the middle of the beach – Five Oaks is crazy safe, which has taken me a while to get used to after living on guard in Queens – I hear the rumble of engine and then the slam of a door, and Tad comes down the leafy path that leads to the parking lot.

I wave and smile, but he barely returns it. His hand is static; his lips hardly move. My heart instantly sinks. My feet stop moving. Something's happened. Tad looks pale; he doesn't smile when Gray grins and says hi.

"I called," Tad says without greeting us. "You didn't answer."

He looks at Gray first and then me. I dig in my bag for our phones and see a whole bunch of missed calls from Tad and I feel even sicker. This isn't how today was supposed to end. I was looking forward to crashing into my bed and getting a good night before tomorrow, but Tad's face is telling me that won't happen.

"We were swimming," Gray says. "What's up?"

"We need to go home," he says, and then he touches my elbow. "You need to come home, Storie."

"What happened?" My voice is back to shaking. I hate how easily I jump to the worst-case scenario. It makes it so hard to be calm and rational. "Did something happen?"

Gray grabs our stuff, draping towels and clothes over his shoulders like a packhorse. He looks as confused as I feel but rather than quiz his dad, he just loads up everything we walked down here with. Tad doesn't answer my question until he says, "You need to come home."

"Did something happen to Mom?" I ask as I follow him to his car, my feet sinking in the soft sand. Usually I love that feeling but now it infuriates me, slowing me down. "Did she faint again? Is she ok?"

"Your mom's fine," Tad says, finally wearing a faintly reassuring smile despite the awful look of despair in his eyes, and in that moment I know. I'm sure.

This isn't about Mom. It's about my dad.

• • •