Golden Boys (Golden Boys, #1)(67)

But a louder, more confident part of me tells me what we had was real. Is real.

“He’s still here,” I say. “Look, we should talk about this. I feel really bad about—”

“It’s okay, really. We both knew there was an expiration date on this, right? You’ve known him since you were, what, four? I can’t compete with that.”

My voice is quiet as I say, “I guess so.”

“Look, I need to change before dinner,” he says. “I assume you two will be busy?”

I hesitate as I look back to the room, and Matt releases a soft sigh.

“Thought so. Just … be careful.” He turns to go, and I watch. He starts walking backward, and even though he’s facing me, he still can’t look right in my eyes. “Miss you, Gabe.”

When he’s gone, I shut myself into the restroom to think. But really, what do I have to think about? I need to be there for Sal, but I need to learn how to be there for him as a friend. I’ve grown more confident this summer. And I know how to advocate for what I need.

As I walk into my room, Sal looks up to me, and I give him a confident smile.

“Okay,” I start, “so here’s what we’re going to do.”

SAL

“I’ve been dating Matt,” he says. “I’m sorry for lying about it, but I really wanted to be there for you, and it’s so hard to resist what we have, you know? But this thing with Matt, it’s real. It’s new, and I know it probably can’t go anywhere, but he’s sweet and nice and we were taking it slow and I really liked it.”

I wince. “I thought there was more to you two than you let on. I’m sorry, Gabe.”

“But you’re my best friend. I mean that.” He sighs. “And as a best friend, you absolutely take priority. So if you need another day of sulking and Thai takeout, we can do that, but I’m only giving you one more day.”

“No,” I say. “I don’t need takeout; I need to remember how to exist as a human again. This internship broke me. I’ve never worked that hard on anything, and everything I dealt with seemed so intense and so important that I just crumbled. But I think you’re right—meeting new people would help. And we can do it as friends, no benefits.”

“It just can’t be awkward,” Gabe says, and I laugh.

“It’s going to be awkward, but I think we can get through it.” I smile. “Together?”

“Okay.” He starts pulling clothes out of his dresser. “Then you’ve got to help me pick out an outfit, and get it through your head right now that when we go to bed tonight, you’re keeping your hands to yourself.”

“Friends cuddle,” I say plainly.

“Yeah, well, we don’t.” He laughs. “You’ll understand when you get to know Matt.”

He reaches out to me, and I take his hand.

“I’m new at this confidence thing, but hear me out.” Gabe clears his throat. “I think you really have a chance to go back and get this right. To figure out your place in politics, to make this internship work for you and the senator, to leave your mark on the Capitol.”

I nod, so he continues, “There’s no non-corny way to say this, but you can do anything, Sal. I know you. You know you. I’m not kicking you out, but if you don’t go back, you’re going to regret it. And if you do go back, don’t fall off the grid again, please.”

As Gabe jumps into the shower, I pull out my laptop. With a heavy sigh, I look up bus tickets back. I know what I’m doing here isn’t only unhealthy for me; it’s screwing him up. I look to my bracelet, and the bow tie stares back to me. I need to be bold, polished, and I need to make my statement in DC.

I can’t do that here.

Gabe and I arrive late to the restaurant, but his friends welcome us immediately. Tiffany is shy at first, then launches into these bonkers stories of the random people she’s met on the street. Art acts slightly above it all, but based on some of their experiences living in the city, they absolutely seem like the coolest person in the world.

Matt is quiet. And I know that what he and Gabe had needs to be resolved on their own, most likely far away from me. But he’s still so kind. He reminds me of Heath, but he’s got an edge to him, chiming in from time to time with the perfect joke or pun.

I launch into a few stories of working with the senator, and within minutes, they’re all pretty much scarred on my behalf. It helps remind me that what I went through was not at all normal, and I was right to put a stop to it … even if I did it during a poorly timed, frantic breakdown over rum and Cokes.

I love all of this, but nothing compares to seeing Gabe in his element. This is his group. In six weeks, he really did it all: crushed his internship, made great friends, found a boy. All I have to commemorate my first six weeks is a few great selfies and probably an ulcer. But I have time to salvage some of this.

When we get back, I start packing up my suitcase, and finally come clean.

“I bought a bus ticket to DC for tomorrow morning. I’ll wake you before I go, but I need to go back and figure my life out.”

He hesitates, then pulls me into a hug. “What are you going to do about your internship?”

“No idea, but I can’t figure that out here. I have seven or eight hours on a bus—that’ll give me some clarity. Heck, I might even stop in New York and be a tourist for a bit. Send the group chat a selfie with the Statue of Liberty. That’ll really throw them off.”