It was mid-morning on Sunday when my phone dinged with a new message. I picked it up and immediately started smiling.

Hey. Are you busy?

Nope.

Normally, at this time on Sundays, me and the guys would go out to the ATV track, or fishing, or even just hang around one of our houses. I couldn't remember why Sunday had become our obligatory "Bro Time" as Brandon dubbed it; it had just been that way for years. But not today. Brandon was usually the main instigator of Bro Time, and he was out shopping with his mom for a brand new school wardrobe, despite having two full walk-in closets of clothes. He rarely wore anything more than a few times, yet he refused to get rid of anything.

Jackson was also busy spending the day with Carrie, since they probably wouldn't get much time together in the next few days, as school started tomorrow for us.

I was secretly glad when I got their messages last night. I wanted to relax today. The first-day-of-school nerves were mixing with my I-definitely-positively-think-I-might-have-gay-feelings-for-my-friend nerves, which was a recipe destined to make my anxiety flare up if I didn't keep calm.

But just the thought of being with Emmett for a little while made all of that disappear.

Do you want to hang out?

And there it was. The opening for Emmett Time. I chewed on my lip, an uncontrollable grin took over my face.

Sure.

Should I come to you or...

B there n 5.

🥳🎉

I scurried around my room, grabbing clothes to throw on. I chose my plaid gray shorts and the powder blue Port United shirt Brandon gave me a few months ago when I saw it on his bed and mentioned that I liked it. It still had the tags on it when Brandon tossed it at me and told me to take it. Forty dollars for a plain t-shirt with a tiny lighthouse logo on the chest. I tried to deny the offer, but he said if I didn't take it, he'd throw it away to spite me. As soon as I tried it on, I knew it was a size smaller than anything I'd buy for myself. Brandon was leaner than me. We both worked out a lot, but Brandon did it for appearance's sake, to have a sculpted physique; I did it because it helped to ease my stress—the muscles were a nice bonus.

I tried to use the sizing issue as an excuse to refuse it, but Brandon said, "It's the perfect size. You just don't know how to dress properly. Seriously, you have a killer body, bro. Embrace it. Give the ladies a show."

I chose the shirt today because Brandon was right, as he usually was about such things. I always seemed to get extra attention from girls while wearing it. And I kind of secretly hoped that Emmett would appreciate it, too. Maybe I could make Emmett see me in a desirable way. Emmett fell for Duke. Me and Duke had similar builds. Okay, so maybe Duke had larger muscles, and he was like four inches taller than me, but it was possible.

Right?

That's also why I put on a spritz of the Burberry cologne my parents got me last Christmas. I didn't used to wear cologne much, but being around Emmett, who always smelled of some sweet perfume-y scent, I felt the need to smell nice. I had to stop myself from putting some on yesterday for our hike. That would've been too weird.

I pushed my feet into my favorite Nikes, already tied for the perfect level of comfort and fit. I slipped out through the back door in my room, hoping to avoid my parents, neither of whom worked on Sundays.

"Hi, sweetheart." The sound of my mom's voice startled me.

I spun around to see my parents sitting on the bench swing, both of them holding glasses of sweet tea. I gave a tentative two-finger wave with the hand holding my keys. "Um, hey."

"You look nice," Mom said.

I rubbed my hand up and down my arm, feeling self-conscious about the outfit now. It was totally overkill compared to my usual attire.

"Thanks."

"Going somewhere special?" Dad asked. His metal straw clinked against his glass as he stirred it around, causing a mini whirlpool among the ice cubes and a sprig of mint that Mom used as a garnish for the tea. She was big on presentation of food and drinks. She believed appearance was an important part of the experience. Also, the mint tasted great in her tea.

"I'm just going to hang out with Emmett. Sort of a last hurrah before school drains me of my will to live."

They both laughed softly. My mom leaned against her husband. "Well, have fun. But remember, it is a school night. That eight o'clock curfew kicks in starting tonight."

I nodded, huffing in annoyance. "You know all my friends have at least until nine. Brandon doesn't even have a curfew."

Mom sat forward, raising a single eyebrow. "Well, Brandon's parents have voted for every Republican presidential candidate for the last twenty-five years. I'd hardly call them role models of wisdom or sanity."

"Fine." I waved at them. "See ya later."

They chorused out a goodbye as I headed to the gate to circle around the house to my car. My excitement was building with each step closer to being with Emmett again.

__________

____

Emmett rushed out of his house the moment I pulled up. I didn't even have time to pick up my phone to text him that I had arrived. He was wearing a gray t-shirt with WHAT'S YOUR DAMAGE? printed across the front, with two croquet mallets forming an X behind the words. He also wore very tight jeans and red high-top Converse that weren't laced all the way up, so the top edges flopped haphazardly outwards as he walked. His black hair was free of any product, his bangs hung over his forehead.

He's so cute!

I was already smiling before Emmet even got in the car. He closed the door, turning to me, offering a bright grin of his own. "Hi."

"Hi."

Emmett scrunched his forehead, looking down at the dashboard screen. "You have the weirdest taste in music for an eighteen-year-old, you know that?"

"You know I won't be eighteen until December. And how is it weird?"

"I never know what decade I'm going to get when I get in your car. Last time you were blasting Queen. I've heard you play Boyz II Men, Blondie, and The Killers. Now this. I don't even know who this is."

"The Smiths."

"Okay. Like, I've never even heard of them."

"They're great. And most of my musical taste comes from my dad. When he got really sick and weak, and he couldn't really get around much, we would lay down on the floor—he said it made him feel better—and he'd play all his favorite songs from the surround sound. He loved music. He had stuff from like every decade." I turned to stare at my hands gripping the steering wheel. I'd never told anyone this before. My mother and Rachel were the only people who knew, and only because they were there. Rachel probably didn't even remember it. She was barely seven when he died. "After he died, I took his old iPod and listened to every song like a thousand times. And somewhere along the way, his music just sort of became my music."

When I looked up, Emmett was smiling at me. "That's really sweet."

I shrugged, pulling the car away from the curb. "I mean, I do like contemporary stuff too. I have Billie Eilish, Khalid—who I found because of Billie. I also have some Taylor in there. Kendrick Lamar. Twenty-One Pilots. Um, Troye Sivan."

"You like Troye?" Emmett looked astounded, with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I?"

"You do know he sings about guys, right?"

I narrowed my eyes and glanced at Emmett as we came to the stop sign at the end of the street. "Seeing as how I've listened to all of his songs, I'd be pretty fucking stupid if I didn't."

"And you still like him?"

"Of course. I love his voice." I shook my head, slightly annoyed by the implication that I wouldn't like someone's music if they were gay. But I suppose Emmett's thinking was somewhat valid. There were lots of guys around here that would actively dislike a singer if they knew he was gay. Too concerned with their fragile masculinity, to enjoy a song about a man loving another man.

Since there was no one behind us at the stop sign, I picked up my phone and searched for a song. I clicked Play Next on it and set my phone back down before making the turn.

"Besides," I continued, "I listen to a lot of female artists and they sing about guys. I see no difference. Except obviously I'm not a woman." I thought about adding that I wasn't into guys, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. It wasn't true. It couldn't be, considering all the things I'd fantasized about doing with Emmett. At the very least, I had to be bisexual. Although, I wasn't sure if that was true either. I'd never wanted a girl the way I wanted Emmett. I'd never wanted anyone the way I wanted Emmett.

I grinned as "Heather" started and Emmett shouted, "Oh my God! You listen to Conan Gray, too! Who even are you right now?"