Golden Boys (Golden Boys, #1)(23)

“That’s okay.” I chuckle. “And you’re right—I do have the best friends.”

I can’t fight the feeling that it’s all going to change after this summer. After they get a taste of their futures.

“You miss them? You seem down.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s that. Or, I don’t know.” I sigh, and fiddle with my bracelet for a couple of seconds. “They’re all doing these stupidly amazing things all over the world, and I’m—”

“—stuck with us?”

Her expression is sly, and she gives a laugh so I know she’s joking, or she’s okay with the dynamic at least.

“That’s one way to put it. I mean, it’s awesome being here already. But we’re all, like, the top of our class, and they can be super competitive one-upping each other. I just want to get the most out of my summer, and this next year, and hopefully get into Vanderbilt. I don’t really have a backup plan.”

“I don’t know your friends, other than through your Instagram posts, so this may be way off base. But I don’t think they’re very normal people. This is coming from a straight C student, so keep that in mind, but I don’t think you have to do all this extra privileged shit to get into college.”

“They’re not privileged—” I start, but she cuts in with: “Isn’t one studying abroad in France?”

I let out a bark of laughter. “Okay, fair.”

“I’m not saying they didn’t earn it or whatever, just not exactly the kind of whim I could find the finances for, you know?”

“I really do.”

Cole texts Diana saying he’s getting off work and is going to drive home, then walk up and meet us by the arcade, so she hops off the fencing and gestures for me to follow her down the beach.

I strip off my socks and shoes and bury my feet in the extremely hot sand. I yelp with pain, which causes Diana to double over with laughter.

“You’ll get used to it,” she says, “but let’s go down to the water and walk that way.”

I hop awkwardly toward the water and breathe a huge sigh of relief when I reach the strip of freshly wet sand. Sea foam runs over my feet, cooling them. Eventually, we start our way down the beach, dodging beachgoers as we walk.

“How are you going to afford Vanderbilt?” she asks, and the bluntness of the question takes me by surprise. I never talk money, and my friends certainly don’t ask these things. But maybe that’s because money isn’t as big a deal for any of them.

“Scholarships, maybe? Vanderbilt is a good baseball school, and they give out some scholarships for it. I’m one of the best pitchers in the state—at least, that’s what my coach says.”

“Oh, whoa, that’s huge.” She pauses. “I’m trying to think of a talent I have to save some face in this conversation, and I’m drawing a blank. Shit.”

“There’s got to be something,” I say.

“Nope.” She spins her bracelet again. “Perfectly ordinary, I’m afraid.”

“Anyway, if I get in, we’ll find a way to make it work. Dad says he’s got good credit and would cosign on a loan with me. I don’t know how I feel about going into debt for this, but I’ll worry about that later.”

“Ha, you should talk to my mom about loans. She said buying that arcade was the dumbest shit she’s ever done, but she’s slowly been paying it back. She used to have a ton of savings, but the whole pandemic thing happened, and you know how that goes.”

I flinch, thinking about how hard COVID-19 hit Florida. When all your money is in the travel industry, and the travel industry fully collapses, what does that leave you?

“I’m glad y’all made it out of that. A lot of people didn’t.” I sigh, thinking back. “During the pandemic, they laid off my dad and it was really bad for a while. Gabriel’s family struggled a bit too, but the others didn’t seem to get just how hard it was for us. Like, I was fourteen when it started, but I still knew we were always one disaster away from losing everything.”

“Another privilege,” Diana says.

“They all tried to be understanding, at least. Gabriel started all these fundraisers for those in our community who got laid off, and Sal found literally every government relief program my dad was eligible for.” I pause. “It was awkward, but it worked out.”

The walk down the beach doesn’t take long, but I’m already starting to feel like a different person. There’s an overwhelming relief that after sitting in a car for fifteen hours, hunched, gripping the steering wheel tightly, just begging the piece of shit I’m driving to make the drive, I step out into this wholly different world. A world where my fears back home seem smaller.

It’s nothing like Ohio here, and maybe that’s what I did need this summer. The waves crash against the shore, the sun beats down on me, the noise of the beachgoers recharges me. And as we approach the strip of beach outside Jeanie’s arcade, I see a now-shirtless Cole laying towels down on the beach. Diana runs to him, and I follow, and he greets us with a smile.

“You brought snacks?” Diana says with a squeal. “I swear, you’re always the most prepared person in the world. This is why I love you.”

My ears perk up at the phrase, and for the first time I wonder if they’re more than just friends. A feeling of disappointment nags at me, followed by a second feeling of disappointment when I realize I shouldn’t be thinking of any of this right now.