Page 68 of The Summer of Everything

Wes likes this side of Lucas, less restrained and small. He likes the way their blond hair still falls into their eyes when they laugh too hard. He likes that Lucas is wearing a white Henley with an old-school MTV logo in the middle. In fact, this is the first time Wes hasn’t seen Lucas in their green hoodie. Everything about Lucas is… free.

“Hang on.” Wes holds up a finger. He almost forgot. “Don’t move.”

Lucas blinks at him a few times, but Wes merely shoots them a surreptitious smile before trekking to the front counter.

“Shut up. Shut up. He’s here,” Kyra chokes out while giggling.

Wes negotiates his way around them to get behind the counter, then kneels to rummage through his backpack. He tugs out a graphic novel. When he stands, they’re still chortling. He pauses, eyebrows so high they’re making out with his hairline.

Kyra turns her head, wheezing.

“What are…” Wes narrows his eyes. “…you two…” He motions his index finger between them. “…doing?”

“Working on open mic night!” shouts Cooper, which sends Kyra over the edge, collapsing on the counter, face mashed to the woodgrain as she howls.

“A likely story.” Wes crosses his arms.

“Fine, fine.” Kyra lifts her head. She wipes at the tears hanging on her long eyelashes, then clears her throat. “Because of this dork…” She stabs a finger in Cooper’s direction. “…we might’ve been brainstorming ship names.”

“Ship names?”

Wes knows what shipping is. Being quite fond of certain LGBTQIA characters in the X-Men comics—Wes’s only Marvel weakness—has led to many searches for alternative romantic storylines between his favorite queer characters when the writers either kill one off or dissolve the relationship for no apparent reason.

Anyway, he’s read his share of fanfiction: good, bad, and weirdly sexy. The internet is a strange, magical place.

“Yes. Ship names,” Cooper confirms. “For you and Nico.”

Time-out. Pause the game. Pump the brakes.

“Me and Nico?” Wes feels embarrassment’s vise-grip on his vocal cords. “Me. And. Nico?”

Cooper’s eyebrows furrow. “It’s obvious—”

“Obvious?” This is where Wes will die, behind the front counter at Once Upon a Page. At least he’ll go out in his favorite place in the world—with the voice of a thirteen-year-old who’s been caught by their mom looking at inappropriate Google searches.

“Wes, come on,” Kyra implores. “We’ve all seen the heart-eyes you’ve been tossing Nico since day one. You’re like that Patrick fromSpongeBobGIF where he’s kicking his feet back and forth. Big, gooey eyes with that sweet smile. It’s gross.”

No. Wes most certainly is not that GIF. He has supreme levels of chill about Nico in public. No one knows his dark secret, except Ella, with whom Wes shares an airtight friendship. She’s not a narc.

“It’s not true,” he replies firmly.

Kyra puckers her mouth, clearly unconvinced. “Anna knows. Zay knows. Ella knows. Anderson Cooper and I know.” She lists every name on a finger. She lifts her other hand, flexing another index finger. “Gemma, the pink-haired girl who only works weekends over at Aerial knows.”

Wes glares at her. He can’t believe this. Betrayed by his own kind.

“I know!” shouts Lucas.

“You know nothing,” Wes yells, his pre-puberty voice reinstating itself with a vengeance.

Kyra’s moved onto her second ring finger. “Mrs. Rossi knows.”

No. That’s impossible. Not Mrs. Rossi. N-O.

A sharp pang hits Wes’s chest. His spine locks.

“It’s not as if you treat it like privileged info.” Kyra shrugs. Her cardinal and gold USC sweatshirt has been shredded into an off-the-shoulder crop top. It smells of dark roasted coffee. The overpowering scent is the only thing keeping him conscious.

“You two looked kind of cozy the other night,” Cooper comments. “At The Howls.”

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