He looks like it, too. Look up the word gamer in the dictionary, and there will be a rough approximation of Nicholas Kelly. His skin is pale, like he’s never been touched by the rays of the sun. He’s filled out a little since the beanpole days, but he’s still too thin—too thin can be a thing with boys. Undernourished is the word I’d use. His Adam’s apple sticks out like it’s trying to poke through the skin of his neck. We’re supposed to be dressed up for this dinner, but he’s wearing khaki shorts and a faded old T-shirt that has something Fortnite on it. His red-brown hair is uncombed and so long it almost covers his eyes. His shoulders have a weird hunch.

Afton’s right. I can’t imagine sex with Nick.

For all of two seconds I get a flash of Leo on the virtual movie screen in the back of my brain. His red face hovering over mine. “I love you,” he whispers.

“Fuck you,” I whisper back. I’ve never been big into swearing before the past twenty-four hours happened. At least not out-loud swearing. But now it’s like that word won’t leave my brain.

“Looks like you’ll have to spend this vacation in celibate self-reflection, after all,” says Afton sympathetically.

“Yeah, I’m very disappointed.” I try to shove thoughts of Leo away. It’s hard to stop thinking about someone when you’ve done nothing but think about them for the longest time. “I’ve heard rebound sex is awesome. Wait, have you ever had rebound sex?”

“Well, no,” she admits. “Not yet.”

“So how would you know?”

“What are you talking about?” asks Abby then, loudly.

“Yes, what are you two scheming over there?” asks Mom, her mouth pinched up. She must have heard me say an inappropriate word or two. She disapproves, of course, but she doesn’t like to parent us in public—Mom relishes the idea that her children are well-behaved without being threatened or bribed. I think she’s proud that we’re so self-governing. Even if she had very little to do with it.

“Nothing,” Afton says swiftly.

“Yeah, it’s nothing,” I concur.

Chapter 12

12

That night I dream that Leo leads me into a room I don’t know. It has a concrete floor. Shelves with sports equipment and cardboard boxes. A bicycle leaning against the wall.

It doesn’t make sense, but it’s a dream, so I don’t question it.

“Here,” Dream Leo says, and whips his arms to spread a red-plaid blanket on the floor next to a washing machine.

It’s a garage, I realize dimly as he reclines on the blanket and I slip down next to him.

His hand brushes my cheek, tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”