Andrew moves into the kitchen and reaches for the wine before he realizes that he’s not exactly twenty-one.
“Oh, son, I know you kids all drink,” Dad says with a slight smile. “A glass of chardonnay isn’t going to kill you. Just don’t become an alcoholic like me.”
“Dad!” I choke out as Zack steps forward to stand by my side.
“Your daughter doesn’t drink, not at all,” Zack says, and Charlie’s smile gets just a bit sadder.
“She’s always been one to make prudent choices. Okay, Marnye, tell me what’s going on.”
“I’m … dating five guys,” I say, and what’s left of Dad’s eyebrows goes up. Dad … He glances over at Andrew, and he raises his own hands in defense.
“Oh, no, not me. Definitely not me. I’m more likely to date five guys than your daughter—not that she isn’t fabulous, just …” He shrugs and takes a drink of his wine. I need to know the whole coming out story, that is, if he wants to tell me. I’m going to at least ask. Knowing Miranda she’ll probably hound him relentlessly.
“So,” Charlie starts, looking at Windsor then Zack then Zayd … “These guys and … the Cabot boy, and …”
“And me,” Tristan says, stepping into the room in black shorts, a loose black shirt, and sandals. He doesn’t bother to take off his sunglasses, but he does at least attempt some semblance of a smile.
“You boys …” Dad starts, looking like he’s stuck halfway between fainting and thanking me for being honest. “I didn’t raise my daughter to date bullies.”
Tristan pushes his shades up into his raven dark hair, and I see a black eye there that he most definitely did not have when we left the academy campus on Friday.
“No, I’m sure you didn’t, Mr. Reed, but if you can forgive me for speaking frankly, I’d like to reassure you that your daughter not only handled herself in a matter befitting a lady, but she also kicked our asses before she forgave us.” He tucks his sunglasses into his pocket.
“Marnye has a big heart; she forgives too easily,” Charlie says, studying the group of them. “I swear, if you’re playing some sort of long game …”
“Long game?” Zack ask, and Dad glances his way.
A shock of adrenaline courses through me, and I lick my lips. If I said I hadn’t at least considered that possibility, I’d be lying. But … no. Not with Windsor around. Zack either, for that matter.
“If those three pull something during graduation the way they did at the end of first year, I swear to God, I’ll kill them all and put them in the ground. What do I have to lose? I’m dying anyway.”
“Dad!” I choke out, this dark thundercloud settling over me. I know he’s trying to use dark humor to cope, but shit, it hurts. It hurts so damn bad that I can’t even let myself consider it, not right now, not when he’s still here to smile at me.
“Seriously though, what’s the worst that could happen: life in prison?” Charlie chuckles, but I can’t laugh at stuff like that, not right now. “I mean it though, you boys better not be screwing around with my Marnye-bear.”
“Sir,” Zayd says, shaking out his shoulders and exhaling. “I understand your concern, but I want you to know that … I’m in love with your daughter.” He grits his teeth, like this is one of the hardest things he’s ever done. “I have been since Halloween of first year, I just … we’re all mixed up in a bunch of bullshit.”
Holy fuck, did Zayd Kaiser just announce his love for me? And in front of my dad, too? I’m not sure if I should swoon or maybe just curl up and die of embarrassment.
“But we’re trying to get out of it,” Zack adds, looking at Charlie. “I won’t let anything like what happened during first year happen again. I’m in love with your daughter, too, and … I can never say enough about how sorry I am over what occurred in middle school. I’m willing to spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it.”
Aaaand, another surge of emotion I don’t know what to do with. It’s like there’s a rainbow inside of me, an emotion for every color, all blending together. I’m just not sure what’s waiting for me at the end of it.
“I’d also like to take this moment to profess my love,” Windsor says, putting his palm over his heart and lifting his chin. “It’s a royal proclamation.”
I snort, but it’s all nervous laughter, clapping my hand over my mouth.
The sound of scrambling comes from outside, and I glance over my shoulder to see Creed shoving Miranda out of the way. He comes in panting, two security guards grabbing onto his shoulders.
“Let him go; he’s harmless,” Windsor instructs, as the beautiful blond-haired, blue-eyed Cabot boy huffs and puffs, looking between me and Dad a few times before he steps forward and shoves Zayd aside. Zayd sneers at him, but doesn’t say anything.
“I love your daughter, too,” he says, and I swear, if there was a single spot on my body that wasn’t red, it would be now.
“Guys,” I start, as Tristan turns away suddenly, closing his eyes. He’s the only one who’s not going to say it, isn’t he? “You don’t have to say that.”
“It’s the truth,” Creed says, pushing blond hair off his forehead. “It’s … I’ve felt this way for a while.” Miranda comes up to stand on my other side, giving me a sympathetic sort of look. At least Lizzie’s not here to witness the whole thing, right?
“Are you happy, Marnye?” Dad asks, and I nod once, briskly but determinedly.
I mean, I am, but I’m not. I need you here to walk me down the aisle one day, Charlie. Please, please, please stick around for that.
“I am.”
“Okay then. Okay. My daughter has … five boyfriends.” He curses under his breath and shakes his head. “I’ll be damned.”
He wanders out to the porch, pops the top of one of his fancy apple ciders, and looks out at the vineyard.
“Well, that wasn’t embarrassing at all,” I whisper as Miranda gives me a huge hug.
“Come on, you can help me unpack my things and Andrew can tell you allll about his coming out story …”
Andrew grabs the wine, a pair of glasses, and a soda that he tosses over to me.
The boys watch us walk out, but they know better than to follow.
I need a minute.
How the hell am I supposed to choose now?
Fuck you, love. Like, seriously, fuck you.
“She bought you a rainbow jock strap?!” Zayd howls, rolling on his side with laughter as Andrew narrows his eyes in the lead singer’s direction. “That’s so cute, but so fucking misguided. I’m dying, I’m dying. No, I’m dead. I am hashtag-freaking-dead.”
“She’s at least trying,” Andrew says, his feet dangling in the pool. “My dad asked me not to hit on any of his business partners. Like, really? I almost snarkily asked him if he hits on every woman he sees, just because he’s straight, but … he kind of does. He’s such a piece of work.” Andrew sips his drink, and I realize he’s come a long, long way from the boy who denied his sexuality to everyone, including himself. The boy who took a forced engagement he didn’t want … and now is the proud owner of a rainbow jock strap.
“You know what my mom said when I told her I was a lesbian?” Miranda asks, and Creed rolls his eyes like he’s heard this story a thousand times. “She said thank god for that. Boys are so gross.”
“Isn’t that a sexist thing to say?” Creed retorts, and Miranda spins on him, standing wet and dripping behind her as she tries to sunbathe.
“First off, get the fuck out of my sun. Second, no. Don’t you understand that when women say all men are trash, it’s not hate speech, it’s just an anti-patriarchal movement that has more to do with the bullshit system rather than each individual dude on a personal level?”
“Uh, what?” Creed asks, but then Miranda just grabs him by the ankle and slides into the pool, dragging her twin with her. They splash me, and I laugh as water cools my overheated skin.
“I’m really glad you came out,” I tell Andrew, curling my fingers around the edge of the pool as I glance his way. He smiles back at me, and shrugs, like it’s no big deal.
“If it weren’t for you, I might not have ever done it.” He turns away and looks out toward the hills behind the house. These are covered in vineyards, too, but the grass is a dry brown-yellow color rather than the bright green that borders the front of the property.
“I can’t take any credit for that,” I tell him, but he just shakes his head.
“You stand up for what you want, regardless of how the odds are stacked against you. That’s something.”
I look away, but I don’t feel comfortable with the praise. I find my attention on Zack, sitting nearby in swim shorts and nothing else. He’s got a copy of that book, Groupie, and I’m pretty sure he stole it off my dorm room shelf. I’m okay with that, too. I’m glad somebody else is reading it, too. The main character’s dad … he gets cancer and dies.
I hate cancer.
I fucking hate it.
I stand up suddenly, and everyone goes quiet around me.
When I walk off by myself, nobody bothers me.
Our Thanksgiving meal is … cooked by Zack and Windsor. It’s a little weird to see them working together, especially at something other than bullying rich girls. Two filthy rich boys doing domestic chores. It’s kind … of cute.
Zayd’s also put on an apron, but mostly he just sits on the edge of the countertop and takes bites of things that are either half-cooked or too hot.
A beautiful rough-hewn wood table sits outside, decorated with gourds and pumpkins and clusters of freshly harvested grapes. We all sit together and eat, and the boys manage to keep their usual barbs and jibes at one another to a minimum. Charlie is laughing, the baseball cap he’s wearing casting strange shadows over his face.