Golden Boys (Golden Boys, #1)(7)

But Sal and I aren’t usually like that. I like to think we have a good head on our shoulders, or something, but that’s probably ages of toxic masculinity radiating up from the farmlands. Even after that guy hurled abuse at us, I don’t think either of us really reacted. Sal technically flipped the table on his way out, but that was more a matter of convenience. At that point, nothing could have stopped him from getting to the door. Meanwhile, I was frozen in place and burning with rage, replaying that jackass’s words in my head until one of Heath’s baseball friends stepped in and put an end to it.

While Gabriel and Heath head around back to fill up the other coolers, I lead Sal to the kitchen and peek in on my parents. Mom’s carefully stirring something on the stove in a big pot, while Mamma’s at the table forming what looks like a few hundred meatballs.

“Hi, dear.” Mamma turns her head around, wrist deep in raw meat and onions for her meatballs. “Oh, Sal! Thank you for helping out. It’ll be a crazy one.”

Mom laughs. “You know how it is by now. Is Gabriel coming too?”

“He’s out back with Heath. I told them to start setting up the coolers and tables. We’re going to take care of the living room.”

“Sounds good,” Mamma says. “Your cousins should be here soon—don’t dawdle.”

“Oh, they’re always late,” Mom says. “How are things going, Sal? Are you as excited for DC as Reese is for Paris?”

“Things are good,” Sal says. “Honestly, I can’t wait to get out of here.”

Mamma points a spoon at him. “I hear that. I felt the same, and that’s why I went to London.”

“That’s right,” Sal says. “You studied abroad too. Have you figured out where you’re going on your trip?”

My parents look at me, and I feel my cheeks turn red.

“They’re coming to Paris at the end of my term,” I tell Sal, “and then we’ll be in London. They want me to pick one more city on our big European trip, but I don’t know where I want to go yet.”

“Clock’s ticking,” Mamma says. “You two go set up the living room. When you’re done, tell him how nice Lisbon is in the summer. Or Barcelona. Or—”

“We said we wouldn’t push him,” Mom says while rolling her eyes. “Though I’ve heard Prague is nice.”

I hurry Sal out of the kitchen. “Sorry about that. They’re never going to let it go.”

“Where do you want to go?” Sal asks.

I shrug. “No clue. I’ll figure it out eventually, after they stop giving me endless suggestions.”

Once we get to the living room, Sal instinctually starts opening up one of the folding tables. The jealousy starts to settle in again, just seeing him, and I curse myself for being so damn resentful of what he and Gabriel have. I take a few deep, cleansing breaths, hoping that’ll calm me down a bit, because I know I’m fully in the wrong here. It’s their bodies, their lives; they can do whatever makes them happy.

But how do they do it? How can they be so confident?

“You okay?” Sal says when he realizes that I’m clearly not. “Your face is all scrunched—really, the cafeteria thing was fine. It’s good I went. We can even go there before school starts just to make sure there’s no, you know. Bad feelings.”

“No, it’s not that,” I say, even though I should probably take him up on that offer. “Actually, put that table down for a second, I want to get your opinion on something.”

“Yeah?” he replies, then starts to follow me upstairs.

“It’s just that you’re not really one to mince words—if you thought, say, a special going-away gift I made for the crew was bad, you’d totally say so.”

“I’m actually a great liar when it comes to bad gifts,” he says. “Mom just got me this engraved pen for the summer. It literally says Intern to Senator Wright on it.”

We take the final steps, and I open the door to my room. My somewhat barren gray-blue walls greet me. I spent the last week taking down the pictures I had taped to the walls—so many pictures of the four of us, plus a few of my friends from summer camp, of logos and other design inspiration I liked. I’m bringing them all to Paris for this graphic design program, so I have a little bit of home with me.

“Intern to Senator Wright,” I repeat. “That’s cringey.”

“I acted like it was the best thing I’d ever seen. But for this, I will be honest. Promise.”

Reaching underneath the bed, I clasp a tiny cardboard box. We sit on the bed, and I go to open it … but then I stop.

“I’ve never done anything like this before.” I try to mask my anxieties with a stern tone. “So, yeah. Just keep that in mind.”

Another sigh, then I open the box. One by one, I pull out the copper wire bracelets hiding inside. Each bracelet is made from the same thick wire, but each is adorned slightly differently.

“Oh, whoa. You made these?”

“It’s a bit crafty, and I’ve never made jewelry, but I think they came out okay. It’s mostly twisted wire, with a metal clasp here, then I pressed the copper really thin to make the charm and painted them, which is how I tinted the metal into four different colors.”