Golden Boys (Golden Boys, #1)(18)

I slip it around my wrist, and the glint of the fire reflects back to me. I know it must mean so much, but I wonder vaguely, What message is he sending me?

“I liked the double meaning of these,” I say. “Gabriel’s little tree because he’ll be saving and planting trees this summer, but how he’s also a sapling himself. Sal’s bow tie because he loves wearing them, but also because of how perfectly he tries to present himself to the world, even to the point where he can’t tell us—us—what’s bothering him in case we’ll think less of him. Your little planner dots, how you love scheduling your life with those dot journals, but how, with this summer, those dots aren’t filled in.”

“Shit,” Reese says. “You got all that?”

“I’ve proofed almost every English essay you’ve ever written,” I say with a laugh. “You look for complexity in everything. I’ve tried to be more analytical, like you, but everything you say and do always has added layers, multiple meanings. That said … I’m a bit stumped with this one.”

Reese’s cheeks turn red. “Not the charm you’d have picked?”

“No, I honestly thought it’d just be a truck. Capturing my love for that little piece of shit, but also giving it the sense of movement, of going somewhere. But this is a bonfire.”

“It is. You’re the only one who knows how to throw a proper bonfire. I wanted to show you that your bonfire will always bring us together. I get the feeling you’re worried about us all moving on without you, but that’s just not true. You’re the fire of our group. You keep us together.”

My heart swells with his words, so much that I stand and take a few short steps over to him before wrapping him into a tight hug. The top of his head rests just under my chin, and I’m struck by how easy it would be to kiss his forehead right now.

“It also means a lot to me personally,” he says. “You threw that bonfire after that asshole hurt me and Sal. And I know neither of us wanted to leave our bedrooms, but you just sent that photo of the giant stack of wood to the group chat, and you said …”

“Let’s burn this shit to the ground.” I laugh and lessen my grip on him. He looks up to me, though we’re still slightly entangled in an embrace.

“When I see you, I see fire,” he says. “Not a flickering candle, but this huge, warm, beautiful …”

He trails off and pulls away from me, just slightly. Almost like he said too much.

I’ve read into these signs before, but I don’t think he knows how destructive fires can be if they’re not contained. If he’s asking, which I don’t think he is, he doesn’t know what he’s asking for.

Sure, my fire may be what brings this group together, but I could just as easily be the one holding them back. Besides, all fires go out eventually.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

REESE

“Heath, it’s your turn,” Sal says once he and Gabriel finally come back. “And after that’s done, let’s agree not to freak out any more today. It’s our last day, and we should get the most out of it. I will not let you all taint our last diner dinner and drive-in movie of the summer with your angst.”

He smirks, so we know he’s joking. But I know he’s not, really.

We stuff our blankets into our backpacks and walk toward Heath’s truck, waiting patiently for him to spill it.

“I feel kind of numb,” he says. Clouds pass over the sun, casting a shadow over Gabriel’s driveway. “It just doesn’t feel real. My parents’ whole ‘divorce-in-progress’ thing, Dad trying to sell the house. I’m trying to stay positive, but … what if he really does sell it? And I never get to set foot in my yard again. And on top of that, since Mom moves to New Mexico with that guy next week, I worry about my dad doing all this alone.”

Heath’s problems all feel so adult.

A particularly strong breeze passes through, and I shiver. I wonder if Paris has more consistent weather than Ohio. A heat wave on Monday and Tuesday, with temps dropping into the fifties by Friday.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Stop worrying about me! About all of us! We’re focusing on you right now.” I roll my eyes and toss my backpack into the back of his truck.

“I don’t want the focus, though.”

He says it in this really low way, and my heart breaks for him. He chews on one of the strings of his Vanderbilt hoodie. He lowers his tailgate, and the four of us pile onto it.

“Look, it’s only one summer,” he says. “Next year will be different for me, sure, but we’ll all be seniors. I’m excited for that. And I don’t know, part of me is even excited to get out of here, for a little bit.”

Heath pulls off his hoodie, and I pretend not to see his bare stomach and tufts of light chest hair as his undershirt comes up with it. He hands it to me, and I’d like to protest, but with my five-inch inseam shorts and tank top, I extremely didn’t plan for this sudden drop in temperature.

When I bring it over my head, his scent fills my nostrils and his warmth radiates into me. I pull up the hood and look to him. He’s smiling, and my chest flutters with so many emotions I might actually explode.

I need to stop tracking what we have (whatever the hell it is) against what Gabriel and Sal have (whatever the hell that is). Sure, I wish his arm was around me, but I’m still surrounded by him right now. And it’s everything I could want right now.