Felix Ever After(51)

I hesitate. “No. I’m not sure.”

She must see the disappointment on my face. “That’s okay,” she says. “That’s all right. We’ll find the piece of shit who did it. Okay?”

I nod a little. God, why was I always so dismissive of Leah? “Okay. Thanks. Really. This means a lot.”

She snuggles into my side, head resting on my shoulder. Austin and Ezra start to kiss. Ezra wouldn’t look at me for the entire train ride, even while everyone was laughing and singing—I really underestimated how pissed he would be to find out that I’m still talking with Declan—but he glances up now as Austin kisses him, and he doesn’t look away. My face gets hot and I stare down at my hands.

“Yessssss,” Mari says, lying back in the sand, sunglasses on even though the sky is a dark blue, the sun still a ways off from actually rising. “Yes, this is exactly what I fucking needed.”

Austin laughs against Ezra’s neck. Leah turns her face away against the icy wind coming off the sea to light a blunt, red curls flying everywhere. She takes in a deep breath and hands it to me, her cheeks pink in the cold. “Aren’t they so cute?” she asks me.

“Yeah,” I say, taking the weed and sucking on it so hard that my throat burns and I start to cough. Leah smacks my back and takes the blunt from me, passing it on to Marisol.

“God, I need to get laid,” Marisol says.

“I volunteer as tribute,” Leah says without missing a beat.

Marisol passes the weed to Ezra, releases a cloud of smoke. “Been there, done that.”

Leah groans and rolls over onto her stomach, playing with the sand. “Have you had sex with everyone here?”

Marisol glances around. “Not everyone,” she says. “I haven’t had sex with Austin. Or Felix.”

Wait, wait. “Hold up. You’ve had sex with Ezra?”

Ezra’s on his back. He scrunches his eyebrows as he passes the weed to Austin. “What’s your definition of sex?”

“We messed around one drunken night, as one does,” Marisol says, waving her hand around. “This was before I decided I’ll only be dating girls from now on. Obviously.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Ezra says. “We really just made out with some—uh—touching. And I regretted it instantly.”

“Same.” Marisol has the nerve to smirk at me. “Don’t you wish you’d had some fun with me before we broke up?”

Austin leans into Ezra to whisper something, and Ez laughs. Jealousy flourishes in my gut.

Leah won’t stop smiling at me. “Hey, Felix,” she says, “when did you know you were—you know?”

I know what she means, but I’m in a dicky mood now because of Marisol treating me like trash, like she always does, laughing at the crush I’d had as if I’m just a joke to her.

I stare at the gray, steely water pushing up onto the sand. “When did I know what?”

Leah hesitates, like she isn’t sure if it’s an okay question to ask—and honestly, I’m not sure if it is. Some people might not mind being asked, I guess, but it’s not like Leah and I are so close that she’d know whether it’s okay to ask me; and sure, I guess Austin probably already knew—but what if he didn’t? Leah would’ve just outed me.

“When did you know that you were—uh—a guy?” Leah asks, trying again—and, shit, I can tell she’s at least trying. Even if she’s isn’t perfect, she isn’t the bad guy here.

“I figured it out pretty late,” I say, ignoring the tightening in my chest. It’s hard to ignore the question if I’ve actually figured myself out yet or not. “Late in comparison to all the stories I hear of people figuring out their gender identity when they were still in the womb, anyway.”

That gets a few laughs.

“I think it’s really brave of you,” Leah says.

“I mean, I guess? I’m just being myself. There’s nothing brave about that.”

Austin’s nodding. “My family friend didn’t realize she was a woman until she was an adult. She just came out a couple years ago. She always makes this point of sitting me down and telling me how lucky I am to be a teenager now, without any prejudice to deal with, like she did when she was a teenager.”

Marisol responds without turning to look at us. “That’s such crap. We’ve still got so many fucking issues to deal with.”

“I mean,” Leah says, “I guess in comparison to the way things used to be . . .”

“Where, exactly?” Ezra says. He’s still looking anywhere but me. “We’re in this bubble in Brooklyn, but go anywhere else and it’s a bigotry shitshow.”

“Even then, not everything’s perfect here, either,” Austin says. “There’re still people who’re afraid to come out to their parents. People being abused, kicked out of their homes.”

“We’ve still got a long way to go,” Marisol says, finally sliding her sunglasses up and peering at us, upside down, daring any of us to argue—and, yeah, I get her point, but it’s just a little ironic, maybe, that Marisol is preaching to us when she broke up with me because I’m quote-unquote a misogynist. “This country’s fucked, and there’re a bunch of changes it needs to make before anyone gets to say that we don’t have to deal with prejudice for being queer.”