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.

“Waylon!” Clem’s voice carries across the pool.

I turn around and there she is, waving in the shallow end. “A bunch of us are going inside for karaoke!”

“I should go,” I tell Tucker. I want to stay. But I’m terrified. I’m terrified of what people will see and what they’ll say. This whole time with Lucas and now Tucker, I was so concerned about being their secret, but maybe they’re not the only ones living in fear.

“What are you going to sing?” he asks.

“I didn’t say I was singing.”

“Waylon Brewer,” he says, “don’t you get it? This is the night you say yes.”

“You already got me in the pool,” I say with a laugh.

“One yes down,” he says. “A million to go.”

We wade into the shallow end, and since we’re one of the first to get out of the pool, we’re lucky enough to find towels.