of the house is illuminated but Dad and Lila’s car isn’t in the garage. I pull in, too excited to bother

searching for a parking spot.

Okay, this is it. Nonchalance does it.

I run a hand through my hair and flatten my Radio One T-shirt. In my jean’s pocket is a smooth,

bottle-brown stone I found at Auckland harbor that morning.

I’m ready. At least, I will be ready as soon as my heart stops bashing my ribs.

What will Jace look like? Will he have filled out more? Will his hair be short, messy, untamed?

Will he smile when he sees me? Will he forget everyone else?

Deep breath. One step at a time.

I race inside, throwing my keys onto the shelf by the garage door.

Jace could be out, I suppose. Out for dinner and forgot to switch off—

A creak from upstairs.

Jace!

I don’t care that it’s been weird between us for six long months. I’m going to crush him into a hug

because dammit, I have missed him.

I take the steps two at a time and walk slowly down the hall. It won’t look good to surprise him

while puffing. The nerves! I pause for a moment to take a deep breath.

The hallway drags forever. Another creak beckons me to Jace’s room. I pass the gaming room and

the broom closet, trailing my fingers over the wall.

Dickweed, I’ll tell him, you should have called.

And then I’ll launch into the hug.

His bedroom door is closed, so I squeeze the cool handle as though it’s one of my rocks. It instantly

cuts through a blurred year, and unexpectedly, everything appears brighter, harder, colder. Even the air

tastes sweeter.

I slowly push open the door—

Jace is sitting on the end of his bed, chin lifted, lips parted, his profile glowing amber in the

evening sun. His T-shirt is bunched in one hand, and he’s fumbling with the greenstone hook at his chest

with the other.

I smile, fully prepared to race in and tackle him down to the—

He’s not alone.

A mop of blond hair swirls vigorously in his lap.

The blur rushes back over me like thick fog. I wish it were thicker.

The guy with the mop of blond is on his knees sucking forcefully at Jace’s cock. The bed creaks as

Jace flexes deeper into his mouth. He lets the T-shirt go and threads his fingers around the guy’s hair,

then manually guides the depth and pace of his thrusts. The sucking and slurping is so fucking loud.

How did I not hear it? How do they not fucking see me rooted in the doorway?

Jace moans and shuts his eyes. Blond Mop works faster, faster, faster—

Jace pushes the guy off him and comes in his hand.

I find the strength in my legs to silently shuffle backward to my room. The open door will be Jace’s

only clue.

I shut my door quietly behind me. I pull out the beach stone from Auckland. Just a regular stone.

One of a million. I should never have gone into his room with just this. I should have had a piece of

lapis lazuli—rich blue, the color of his eyes. A stone said to offer protection; a stone believed to foretell

love that would be forever faithful.

With that in my pocket, I would have gone into Jace’s room and left satisfied.

I speed-dial Ernie.

“About that debauchery—I’ve changed my mind. I’m in.”

* * *

Bert and Ernie down a third shot of Tequila. I’m only on my second, but I’m halfway drunk

already. The music rings obnoxiously in my ears and makes it impossible to think. I love it.

I don’t want to think. I want to—

I throw back my shot, hop off the barstool, and sink into the crowd. The sweaty air smells of beer

and citrus, threatening the nice buzz I have. It’s the wrong kind of citrus. Too sour.

Dance!

The night becomes a blur of color, smiles, and whispers that coax me closer to some guy who is

eye-fucking me from across the room. I saunter up and sway against him. His hands fumble under my

shirt and over my back. He presses me against his stiff cock.

I shut my eyes against the image of Jace, head thrown back, moaning—

I slide my hand into my pocket and remove the stone. I drop it onto the dance floor and rub myself

harder against my dance partner, who doesn’t smell or feel like Jace, which is what I need. Make me

forget. “What’s your name?”

“Daniel.” Doesn’t sound like Jace, either. “Yours?”

I kick the stone as far away from us as possible. “Cooper.”

marble

I wake at midday to the distant sound of yelling and laughing. My head pounds and my mouth is

dry, tongue glued to the roof. I throw on a T-shirt and shorts before I hunt in the kitchen for water and a

magic cure for hangovers.

I drink three glasses of water and take a pain killer.

Why do people think alcohol is fun?

Never again.

I rub my tender temples, moaning under my breath. My head feels like I’ve been bashing it against

the marble counter.

I’m not proud. No matter how much I wanted to cut through the fog, going back to Daniel’s place

had been a mistake.

But at least I’m not a virgin anymore.

Flashes of my cock pushing into his ass while he moaned and begged make me blush again. I fling

open the cupboard—any cupboard that will shield me from Lila.

Can’t shield you from what happened, though.

Dizziness and shame war for dominance. I pull out a fresh cup and turn to the sink. Movement

flutters outside the windows. Over the tier curtains, I observe Dad, Jace, and Blond Mop kicking around

a soccer ball.

Lila slithers up to my side with the water jug and fills my cup with water.

“Jace missed you last night.”

Somehow I doubt that.

“We came home with enough takeout to feed an army. Annie texted Dad and said you were on your

way home and that she was going back to her flat. Said she’ll come by tonight.”

I finally draw away from the view of Dad juggling the ball and Jace copying him. “Bert and Ernie

wanted us to hang.”

The tea kettle whistles. I grab Annie’s stash of green tea and force a spoonful into filter bags.

I feel justified and dirty at the same time.

Dirty.

I shiver. Despite showering for an hour, the bad memory from last night lingers.

Turn around. So I don’t have to see your face. So I can imagine you’re him.

I switch off the tea kettle and pour water over the tea leaves. We sit at the dining table, sipping.

It doesn’t cleanse me as I hoped it would.

The back door bursts open and Dad strolls into the kitchen. “Cooper!” he says. “Brilliant, you can

even up the teams. Get your shoes on.”

“Nah, I don’t feel like playing.”

“Just half an hour. It’ll be fun. You and your dad against Jace and Samuel.”

Samuel.

I stare at a leaf floating in the last dregs of tea.

Dad will announce that I’m back home. I will have to face Jace and Samuel eventually—and rather

than let Jace wonder why I refuse to come out now and say hello, I could have the upper hand. I could

go out there and pretend like nothing matters. Like Jace and his friend are the last things on my mind.

All—thrust—I—thrust—Want—thrust—Is—thrust—You, Jace.

Jace? Who’s Jace?

Heat floods every pore and I drink the last of my tea, leaf and all. “Okay.” I pad toward the back

door and slip on a pair of sneakers. They feel strange over bare feet but at this point, what doesn’t?

I push through the back door and brusquely walk to Jace, who is standing with his back to me.

Samuel sees me first but before Jace can turn, I throw an arm around him and thump his chest, right

where the hook is. “Hey stranger,” I say into his ear.

His body tenses for a moment, and his muscles shift as he twists around and grabs me into a bear

hug. He holds me so tightly I can barely breathe, but my insides twist and tears prick at my eyes. True to