“Really?” Hawthorn asks, changing the lineup so the carrots come after the oat cookie. “Mine either. My dad is one of Ora’s best and gayest friends. I visit him in Hawaii sometimes. I’m Ora’s only baby. She might believe in herbal remedies for everything else, but let me tell you. When it comes to birth control, it’s seven forms on top of each other.”

June nods so earnestly that I laugh. “I believe in a woman’s right to be good at birth control. Catholic parents. Six siblings.”

“Your parents get so busy, June,” Lelia says, sniffing at a cup of coconut yogurt. She sets it aside and wipes her hands on her skinnier-than-thou black jeans.

“Ahhhh,” June says, capping her ears with her hands. “That’s it. I’m banning all sex talk. Forever.”

“There’s nothing wrong with sex,” Hawthorn announces. “It’s perfectly awesome for people who are into that sort of thing.” She flicks a glance my way, and I realize that she made that little PSA for me. Because when we first met, I told the Grays that kissing is my favorite activity. Hawthorn remembered, and cared enough to make sure I didn’t get accidentally slut shamed.

I’m with four magical Grays, and we’re sitting here talking about sex in broad, buttery daylight. I might not have anyone to date at the moment, but it’s definitely better than the world I lived in before.

And then I look over at Rush, and she’s ignoring her dark-green salad dotted with strawberries, looking up at the mountains like she can’t handle us right now, and I wonder what we did wrong.

What invisible line we crossed.

Rush and Imogen: Five Months Ago

They couldn’t stop kissing. They kissed like it was their calling. They stayed in Imogen’s bedroom for days, begging Imogen’s parents for permission to have night after night of sleepovers.

Imogen’s parents liked Rush best of the Grays. If she had opinions, they never heard about them. She was soft where the rest were loud. But they didn’t know what she was hiding under all that soft. They didn’t know the way their daughter sank her teeth into it, hard enough to leave watery blue marks.

Three nights of sleeping in Imogen’s queen bed before something inspired her parents to force the lock and find them a stitch away from naked. Haven stood in the hallway, her eyes wide wide wide.

There were long, frosty speeches about being too young, setting a bad example.

They met in the woods instead, even when it was raining. Rush pressed Imogen against a tree, the waterlogged bark as deep brown as her eyes. No matter how long they stayed in the drowning woods, the water never touched them. It parted around their bodies, flowed around their tangled feet.