Felix Ever After(50)

He laughs a little, so low it’s more of a rumble vibrating from his skin into mine. “Thanks to you.”

“Not just me. You figured it out for yourself, too.”

My phone buzzes, and I read Declan’s message. I think that if I let myself get too afraid, I just won’t do anything, and I won’t be living anyway.

I swallow. That’s true. I just don’t know how to break out of that fear.

Maybe it’s not something you should think about. Maybe you should just do it, whatever it is you’re too afraid to try. Just do it. Just say yes.

Ezra frowns at my phone. “Who’re you texting?”

I hesitate. I don’t want him to know I’m still talking with Declan. I have no reason to mess with him, and I’d have to come up with some explanation—make up a lie—so I wouldn’t have to admit that I think I might actually be starting to like him . . . and that he said he’s falling for me. “It’s no one.”

Ezra scratches his cheek, not looking at me. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, you know? But you don’t have to lie about it.”

“I’m not lying,” I say. He doesn’t answer. “All right. Fine. I don’t want to tell you.”

Even though he said it was fine not to tell him, he bites down on his jaw now, straightening up a bit. There aren’t many things I don’t tell Ezra, and I can tell that he’s hurt.

“Is it someone you like?” he asks.

“Why would you ask that?”

“Why else wouldn’t you want to tell me who you’re texting?”

I hesitate, playing with my phone, twirling it around in my hand. “It’s Declan.”

His head whips to me. “What? You’re still texting Declan?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you still planning to—?”

“No, no, I’m not going to do that anymore.”

“Then why’re you still speaking to him?”

I shrug a little. “I don’t know. I just got used to talking to him, I guess.”

“But he’s—Declan. Fucking Declan Keane.”

“I know. It’s just . . .” I bite my lip a little. “You said it yourself. We don’t know the whole story. And Declan—I don’t know, he can still be an asshole, but he can be cool sometimes, too.”

Ezra’s mouth, which had been hanging open, snaps shut. Fuck. It was a crappy thing to say, I know—telling Ezra that his ex-boyfriend, who’s treated us like shit, is cool sometimes, too.

“I mean—not cool, just . . .”

“All right,” he says. “Okay. I get it.”

I rub the back of my neck. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Before Ezra can respond, Marisol rushes at us out of nowhere, grin on her face, Austin and Leah trailing behind. Leah’s all kinds of drunk. She immediately sits down beside me and puts her head on my shoulder. “Hello, my wonderful friend.”

“We’re going to Coney Island to watch the sunrise,” Marisol yells at us. “Do you want to come?”

I glance at Ezra. He ignores me, forcing on a smile for Mari. “Fuck yeah. When’re you leaving?”

“Like, right now,” she says.

Austin grins at me. “Felix? Are you coming?”

I let out a sigh and hold my phone up again. Declan’s message glows at me from my phone’s screen.

Just do it. Just say yes.





Fifteen


IT’S A LONG-ASS TRIP TO CONEY ISLAND. THERE ARE FIVE OF us: me, Ezra, Marisol, Austin, and Leah, who I learn actually turns out to be Austin’s second cousin. We occupy a corner of the icy train, Ezra, Marisol, and Austin singing a song from Rent at the top of their lungs, Ezra pirouetting around and around, Leah and I laughing. When we get off at our stop, Coney Island is more crowded than I’d expect for five in the morning. The boardwalk, wood swollen with salt and sand, has a group of drunken men laughing and stumbling, a couple standing by the railing and kissing so softly it makes my heart ache, an older woman walking her dog. We jump the railing and land in the cold sand, sneakers off and in our hands. Ezra, Mari, and Austin go screaming, running for the water. Leah shakes her head at them.

“It kind of feels like they were all made for each other,” she says.

My stomach twists a little. I was never jealous when I was the third wheel with Declan and Ezra—that’s just the way our friendship worked out, before Declan broke up with Ez. But if Ezra becomes Austin’s boyfriend, would our friendship change and evolve the way friendships always seem to? What if Ezra and I aren’t as close anymore?

We all sit down on the cold sand together, near the edge of the gray water. Leah leans into me. “By the way,” she whispers, “I checked out James’s phone. The only messages he’s been sending on Instagram have been to Kendall Jenner.” She looks like she’s fighting off a laugh. “I think he’s hoping she’ll fall in love with him over DMs.”

There’s a twinge of disappointment. I shouldn’t be surprised. It isn’t going to be easy to find the bastard behind the gallery, the troll sending me their messages, I already know that.

“Don’t worry,” Leah tells me. “I’m checking out Marc’s phone now. But if it isn’t him,” she says, “do you have any other idea of who it could be?”