Golden Boys (Golden Boys, #1)(12)

If he’s the only one I can be around with my guard fully down, and we fizzle out, who does that leave? Who would I turn to? I don’t want our relationship to progress any further, and I don’t think he does either, but I’m not ready for it to stop.

“You’d like my friend Gabe,” I say. “He’s super passionate about everything. He got this internship with Boston’s Save the Trees Foundation, and he’s ready to go off and save the environment this summer.”

Looking up, I see my mom’s face sort of freeze. I realize I’ve interrupted a conversation about their early crushes to talk about a “friend”—and I see that panic come across her face whenever she’s afraid people will know more about me.

“He certainly sounds like someone I’d like to meet!” Betty says cheerfully. “I always say we have the country’s finest people in this district, and I see it every time I get to visit schools in the area.”

“The feeling is much different when you work in the school,” Mom says, then covers her mouth. They both start laughing. I think the wine is making her loosen up a bit, but I get why she said it. My classmates give her hell, and until last month, I’d have backed her up on this.

“Gabriel is a nice boy. Actually, Sal’s surrounded himself with a great group of kids. They’re all at the top of their class.”

“Very impressive.”

I check my phone, and I see a text from Gabe: I can’t pack anymore. I took down everything from my walls, and I just keep crying. I know I have to do this, I want to do this. But I’m so scared.

“Everything okay, Sal?” the congresswoman asks with a gentle tone.

“No phones at the table.” Mom snaps so quickly from tipsy college friend to strict parent in one second flat.

“Oh please, I’m sure he’s got a lot going on. He’s got a big move coming up. I remember leaving for summer camp in high school, and I just couldn’t stand to be away from my friends. I couldn’t focus on anything that whole week before I left. I know that expression well, my boy.”

Despite myself, I smile. She’s perceptive and understanding, which is probably how she got the job.

“It’s my friend, the one who’s trying to save the world. He’s packing, and it’s stressing him out.”

“Poor thing,” the congresswoman says, looking to my mom.

“Right,” she says. “Well, I’m not sure we need dessert after this wine, but I have a pavlova in the oven that won’t be ready for a while. Sal, maybe while you do some of these dishes you can give Gabriel a call.” She looks to the congresswoman. “His friends always look to him for advice and guidance—it’s really sweet.”

I slowly back up and stand from the seat. Truthfully, that’s not the case. But I see how she’d think that. Gabe and Heath wear their emotions, their issues on their sleeves, but I keep everything under wraps.

Mom and the congresswoman head to the dining room to finish the bottle of wine, while I put in my AirPods and start a call with Gabe. The warm water rushes over my hands as I scrub the plates, but nothing provides that perfect, full-body warmth of when he picks up the phone and says, simply,

“Hey, Sal.”





CHAPTER TEN

GABRIEL

“Literally, what have I gotten myself into?” I ask Sal through the phone, knowing this is not my finest moment. “Wait, is your dinner over? It can’t be. Oh god, your mom is going to be so pissed if she hears you talking to me. Never mind, hang up, hang—”

“Gabe,” he says, and I feel my shoulder muscles loosen. “It’s fine, I’m doing the dishes. She said we could chat for a few minutes before dessert. They’re getting a little tipsy and are in full college-reminiscent mode. I feel like I’m talking with your dad.”

“Yikes,” I say, and he laughs. My dad talks about college like he just graduated from Ohio State last year. He really needs to let it go, but I don’t think Mom or I have the heart to tell him to stop.

I hear the clink of what I’m sure is expensive china, and the splash of water. We listen to each other’s breathing for a bit, and I’m not sure where to start. Even with this conversation, I feel like I need his guidance.

“Okay, so let’s get into it. What’s freaking you out? Give me a list.”

“Right, a list,” I echo.

Sal’s not the most sentimental person in the world, and I’m sure a big part of that is his relationship with his mom. It’s good, I know that. There’s a lot of love in their two-person household, and he’s got the kind of confidence a gay kid only gets by growing up surrounded by emphatic support and seemingly endless resources from day one. But it’s not like they’re the Gilmore Girls.

How he approaches his emotions has always been helpful for me, though. He’s practical and methodical, and he loves lists. See, Heath and I are not known to be the most organized people, while Reese and Sal both rely on lists and planners to get by. But where Reese brings artful design to his dot journals, Sal is a little more straightforward. A calendar, lists, phone reminders, Post-it notes of all sizes and colors.

I get how you’d use that for day-to-day life, but to use it for your emotional well-being? Your breakdowns? It’s counterintuitive, but it’s not a bad plan. So I list: