Golden Boys (Golden Boys, #1)(13)

“Let’s see, okay. My fears are: airports, COVID, suitcases getting lost, Boston, roommates, volunteering, new people—what if they don’t like me?”

“Your boss or the other interns?”

“All of the above. Am I likable?”

He hesitates. “I mean, I like you.”

“You didn’t at first,” I say.

“That’s true. But that was, like, ten years ago. And you were throwing a fit because we only had string cheese for snack time. I’m going to hate anyone who loudly declares that they don’t like string cheese, that’s just a fact.”

“So I should keep that hidden, is what you’re saying?”

He laughs. “Don’t let them see your flaws right away.”

I roll my eyes, but then I do realize what he’s saying is true. It’s how he gets through high school—though I would be pretty guarded about my flaws in school if my mom was the vice principal too.

“I might actually take that advice,” I say, even though my flaws might be too large to cover. Especially when one big ol’ flaw is literally a mental illness. And okay, my therapist would be upset if I called my anxiety a flaw. But it certainly doesn’t feel like a strength.

“I’m joking, if that wasn’t clear,” Sal says quickly. And I wonder if he’s a bit of a mind reader. “You are flawless.”

“Ha, right.”

“I mean it.”

“Back to my list.”

He stops me. “Maybe scrap the list. What does your therapist always say when you get overwhelmed with school stuff? ‘Focus on one thing at a time, and you’ve got this.’ You know it’s pretty special, all this stuff you’re doing, right?”

“I do,” I admit. “The parks in Boston are huge and sprawling and interconnected, and it’s going to be so cool to help raise money for them. I think I can make a change.”

I hear a sound on the other end, and I know my time is running short.

“Mom’s calling me back to the table. Are you gonna be okay?”

“Of course,” I say. “Just needed to talk it out. Thanks, Sal.”

“Anytime. Love you.”

We hang up, and for once, I believe him. Maybe I am flawless.





? iMessage ?

HEATH + REESE





CHAPTER ELEVEN

REESE

It’s not like this has to be perfect.

I hold the four bracelets in my hand, trying to ignore the fact that two of them are still unmarked. It was so easy to come up with an emblem for Sal: the green bow tie that represents so much about how he presents himself to the world. Who he wants to be, and who he gets to be this summer. Confident, flashy, precise.

Gabe’s sapling makes sense on every level. A young tree, something with a ton of potential but still delicate. He isn’t sure who he wants to be, but he keeps growing anyway in hopes that he’ll figure it out one day.

I tap the back end of my pencil on my planner. The left side has a concise list of bullet points featuring my daily to-dos. It’s orderly and straight, and there’s nothing quite as satisfying as crossing off part of the list.

I don’t know how I would survive without the daily to-do list, but the right side is just as necessary. A classic dot journal where I illustrate meticulous designs alongside quotes that resonated with me that day. In a way, this is my journal as well as my planner, and somewhere between these two sides of the page is my life.

I zone out a bit, staring at an illustration of the Louvre that I’m trying to finish up before the week. Before I turn that page and set foot in France for the first time ever. I get distracted and start to sketch the bracelets in another one of the corners. The way it’s set up, the four dots that make a square fit perfectly inside the first charm I draw, and I see myself in that.

After grabbing my engraver, I take a deep breath. The blue charm stares back at me, and I think I’ve just stumbled across a representation of myself that feels right. An empty piece of the dot journal, a perfect square ready to be filled in.

I turn on the engraver and press on four dots, aligned in a perfect square in the center of the charm. The square is empty and bursting with potential, and it signals to me that there are so many days ahead. The artistic opportunity of design paired with the structure of the dots is a perfect fit, and I ignore the impulse to put the bracelet on right there.

As the metallic smell dissipates from the room, I’m left with three filled-out charms and one empty. It’s almost mocking, how easily so many of these came to mind, but the one I really want to impress someone with, the one I want to mean the most, remains empty.

So I make a list.

What Heath’s charm needs to say:

You have a lot of varied interests. You find time for sports and a part-time job, you study harder than any of us, and you always, always, make time for me.

You’re the only one of us who’s being forced into this summer trip, but I know your summer will still be special.

Even if it isn’t, we’ll be here when you come back. All of us. Especially me.

You mean a lot to me.



I distractedly underline point number four. Over, and over, and over again.

This is why it’s impossible to pick something. I’m going to tell him I love him with this. Maybe not in those exact words … or maybe I will. What’s the harm anyway? If he doesn’t feel the same way, then I can spend the summer getting over him, and I’ll start my senior year as a brand-new guy. It’s a flawless plan, really.