Summertime

Summary: This is a continuation/ companion to Open Your Eyes. Each chapter will focus on a different character during their summer with the final chapter bringing everyone together again.

A/N: First off, Happy New Year! Secondly - sorry, I feel like I lowkey ghosted everyone that said they wanted this story. I didn't forget about you. I just wrote a book (!) and am in the process of editing that book (!) and that has been consuming all of my time, but I didn't want to leave this without finishing it. I do not have the whole thing written, only the first four chapters and bits and pieces of the other chapters, but I'm hopeful that I'll be able to post new chapters every week regardless.

I am structuring this a little differently than Open Your Eyes, mostly because I feel like every character ended up having such long sections, so I ended up just giving them all their own chapter. The last chapter will alternate POVs again. I hope you enjoy this!

~ Chapter 1: Benji ~

When I woke up, Victor was wide awake. He had his phone resting against the pillow in between us; he used his nose to touch something on his phone and a smile spread across his face at whatever he saw. He was holding one of my hands in both of his and I guess he didn't feel like letting go. It was my laugh that let him know I was awake. "What could you possibly be looking at? We literally don't get service here."

"I'm just looking through my pictures," he said with a shrug. "It'll be three weeks before we'll get to take a picture together and I didn't realize how many I had of the two of us. Do you know that we have something from almost every day we've been together?"

I raised my eyebrows at him. "That can't possibly be true."

"It is." He let go of my hand to grab his phone and showed it to me as proof. "Except for November and December, we never went more than a day or two without something."

I didn't have to ask why we didn't have many pictures for those months. Victor had only gotten to April and the very first picture I saw was a picture of me and his mom. A couple of weeks after Easter, we'd taken her to a pottery studio and we'd each made a vase. In the picture, my sleeves were rolled to my elbows and both of us were coated in clay residue. She had her arm around my shoulder and she had tears in her eyes from laughing so hard. I remembered the picture being taken because we'd both been making fun of Victor's attempt at making a vase (it literally looked like more of a clump of clay than what we'd started with). Victor had pretended to be upset about it, but we could both see he didn't mind our teasing if it meant we were getting along. I think that was the day I managed to forgive his mom and started putting as much effort into getting to know her as she'd been putting in since we got back from Vegas.

"This doesn't count as a picture of us," I said gently.

"I know, but it's one of my favorite pictures of you. Tied with one other. Keep scrolling." I scrolled once and saw a picture of a vase. "Wrong way. Here."

He took his phone from me before he rapidly scrolled through about a hundred pictures. He must've been awake for a while if he'd looked at all of them. Finally, he pulled up a picture of the two of us. We were both upside-down on the couch with our legs stretched out against the wall. We were at my house and my face was flushed - we must've been upside down a long time. Victor was kissing my cheek and my eyes were squeezed shut as I laughed. I couldn't begin to figure out when it had been taken because we were in that identical position all the time; I had no idea a picture like this existed. "When was this?"

"I'm not sure. Your mom sent it to me," he admitted. "I'm not telling you this, but she's putting together a photo board or something like that, so she sent me about a thousand pictures over the last two weeks so I could pick some out. This was one of my favorites."

I groaned. "Exactly how extra is this party going to be?"

"Oh, very extra," he confirmed. "Picture your whole family meets Creekwood meets Rock and Roll Hall of Fame."

"Do I have to go?"

"Yes," he said adamantly. "Besides, it'll be really fun. I promise I vetoed anything too terrible."

"There's a photo board," I said skeptically.

"Yeah because where would the world be without pictures like this?" He scrolled again. I couldn't help the laughter that spilled out of me.

"Oh my God. You're going to let people see that?" The picture had been taken when we went to Dollywood. Victor and I were wearing massive Dolly wigs. He'd done it to humor me and had a disgruntled look on his face in the picture. I thought it was hilarious, but he'd sworn that no one else would ever lay eyes on it.

He chuckled. "I figured it would make you feel better about all of the embarrassing pictures I picked. Did you know that your mom has one from when you were like a year old where you put a diaper on your head?"

I looked up at him. "What happened to you vetoed anything too terrible?"

"But look at baby Benji." He scrolled again before he showed it to me.

I tilted my head. "I was a pretty cute baby."

"I know. What happened?" he teased. He traced the edge of my face.

I rolled my eyes but, otherwise, didn't acknowledge what he said. There was no doubt in my mind that he found me attractive. He'd spent a lot of our time here telling me that. "How much time do we have?"

The smile left his face. "A couple of hours. I let you sleep in, so it's just after 10. We have to be at your house by one."

"What's the plan for today?"

"I was gonna make you pancakes if you want."

I shifted so I could prop my head on my hand. "You know I'm not going to say no to your pancakes. I still have dreams about the ones you made on Valentine's Day." That wasn't even a lie. He'd shaped them into hearts and added little pieces of strawberry. They were heavenly.

He chuckled. "Well, I did not buy strawberries for today, but I did get some chocolate chips," he offered.

"I'll take what I can get." I made no move to get out of bed.

He didn't either. He leaned over and kissed me. "Or we can stay in bed," he suggested.

"Mmm. Tempting. But think about how much more energy we'll have to do stuff in bed after pancakes," I told him.

He snorted. "Does that mean you're hungry?"

"No," I told him. I was a little, but it wasn't dire or anything. "I just know I'm gonna go ten weeks without being able to cook with you."

"However will you live?" he asked sarcastically.

I brought my hand to his cheek. "Every day will be agony." Only part of me was joking.

He closed his eyes and nuzzled into my hand. "Let's not," he said softly. "I don't want to think about you leaving or me leaving. We have…" he glanced at his watch. "An hour and forty-eight minutes right now and tonight. Can we just enjoy that?"

"That sounds really great." He rolled over and shifted back until his back rested against my chest. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his neck. "But I still expect pancakes."

He laughed and I closed my eyes to commit it to memory. My mom was right. We acted like we were never going to see each other again, but this was going to be the longest we'd ever been apart. Even before we started dating, we'd seen each other almost every day since we'd met except for my five-day attempt to avoid him after he'd kissed me (and even that had been pretty miserable). "Give me like fifteen minutes," he said. He hugged one of my arms closer to him.

"Okay," I agreed. I rested my chin on his neck.

I gave him way more than fifteen minutes but, in defense of him, that was because I also wanted more than fifteen minutes.

By the time we got out of bed, and got showered, and got dressed, and stopped kissing like we were never going to see each other again, we barely had time for breakfast. True to his word, he still made pancakes and they were every bit as delicious as they always were. He had a gift. It was partly because he had so much practice with it; when he was questioning and Pilar was dating and Adrian was being bullied, tensions had spilled over, and making pancakes for his family was an easy way to pretend for a few minutes that everything was normal.

After breakfast, I managed to steal a few more minutes even though we were running late. I think Victor was reluctant to say no to anything I asked because he knew once we got back to Creekwood, we couldn't just exist in the world we did out here. My impending tour would be hanging over our heads during the party and tonight. It wouldn't be the same as it had been this weekend.

We were barely late for my party. I nearly asked him to keep driving when I saw the number of cars outside of my house. I didn't think either of us expected it to be as big as it was.

"It's not too late. We can go back to Lake Lanier. You can drop me off at Tosh's tomorrow," I suggested.

Victor rolled his eyes. "Your house is full of people that want to wish you luck before you make it big. I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of the day with just the two of us, but you deserve to be celebrated."

"I'd be cool if just you celebrated me; I'd actually prefer that. There are all kinds of things you can do to celebrate me," I said suggestively.

He pulled into the driveway and idled while he waited for the garage door to go up. He looked right at me. "Don't worry. I'll celebrate you after everyone else leaves." He drifted into the garage.

When I walked in, I felt like everyone I'd ever known was in my house. It was always a time when my mom's side and my dad's side came together. My dad's side was huge, but my mom's side just kind of dominated a space despite their lack of numbers.

Most of my family had met Victor before, but a few were meeting him for the first time and they loved him.

The whole party was a whirlwind of trying to make sure I saw everyone that was there, trying not to get emotional as we reminisced about our shared memories, and feeling a sense of nostalgia about how much life I'd experienced with all of them. I couldn't believe how many people had turned up to say goodbye. Sure, most of them were family, but I'd failed to recognize just how many amazing friends I'd made at Creekwood. By the time my family started to say goodbye, I felt more loved than I thought possible.

Our friends lingered after my family was gone. It was the first time we were all together like this… ever. I hoped this wasn't just a rare moment of solidarity between us. As a group, we'd been through so much between everything that went down between Mia and Victor, then Lake and Felix. The fact that Pilar and Lake could sit in the same circle and joke with one another was kind of a small miracle in itself.

We were all lounging in my living room when my mom brought in a tray of champagne flutes. "Victor thought it would be too embarrassing to do this during the party, but it's technically over," she said. "I thought it would be nice to do an apple cider toast. That way if anyone wants to speak…" She trailed off in a way that made it obvious that she didn't want speeches to be optional. "I thought Victor could wrap us up and do the toast." I heard Victor groan under his breath. "I'll go first."

He let his head fall onto my shoulder. "I tried," he breathed.

"Mom," I said softly. "You really don't need to do this."

"Oh, she does. We couldn't eat dinner until we had it down yesterday, so we're doing this," my dad warned.

I shot my mom a pleading look. She nodded at me once. I hoped that meant she knew we were mostly surrounded by people that had no idea about my… struggle before I came out. My dad helped her pass out the flutes before he sat down in the only open armchair; my mom stood next to him. I braced myself; I had no idea what I was in for, and I desperately hoped that history wasn't about to repeat itself.

"Benjamin," she said softly. Her voice cracked. She couldn't even get through my name. She coughed and repeated, "Benjamin. You were always musical. When you were a baby, anything you grabbed became your drumsticks. Your favorite toy as a toddler was the annoying xylophone that your Aunt Tracy bought you." My mom made a face. "You could play that thing for hours. Then, when you were five, you started to play the piano. Your teacher told us that she thought you had a gift because you picked up on everything she taught you so quickly. Before you turned seven, you were playing pieces her older students struggled with."

"Right before you turned seven, we asked you what you wanted for your birthday and you told us you wanted a drumset," my dad picked up. I didn't know if it was planned or if it was because my mom was borderline unintelligible with her crying. "I told you that I used to play the drums and you said 'oh. Then I want to play guitar'." He laughed. He'd told me this story about a hundred times when I was little but hadn't brought it up in years. "I knew then that we had raised an independent and stubborn kid. We warned you it was going to require a lot of practice, and you proved to us, yet again, what you could do if you set your mind to it."

"Our house was no longer a medley of homemade instruments," my mom continued. "You filled it with laughter, love, and good music. When you came home as a freshman and told us you were in a band, we knew that band was going to go places. For selfish reasons, we hoped those places would be within Atlanta, but we couldn't be more thrilled for you." She looked down. "It is the hope of every mother that her child finds himself. I know that you haven't had the easiest time and we haven't always made your journey smooth, but I know in my heart that you are moving on to bigger and better things and that you will meet every obstacle with the same strength I have seen in you since you were a child. It is an honor being your parents. We love you, Benjamin."

I sniffed. I was not going to cry. I was absolutely not going to cry. I untangled myself from Victor so I could hug my mom. I gave my dad a quick hug as well before I went back to my spot.

"Would anyone like to speak next?"

Lucy volunteered first. "I knew this was happening, so I had time to prepare," she said smugly. She pulled out her phone and I had to wait a few seconds while she pulled up her speech. "Benji, we have known each other… pretty much my whole life. My mom met your mom at a mommy-and-me program at the library when I was ten months old and you were an annoying almost-two-year-old that refused to let me play in your kitchen." I couldn't help my laugh. "I never knew you were musical until you were playing the guitar like a pro. You told me that you didn't want me to hear you play until you were good because you didn't want to scare away your best friend. The first song you ever played for me was Jump. I remember thinking you were singing over a recording because you were like eight or nine and there was no way you could play that well. But you could. Jump became our anthem. We sang it while we climbed up the slide instead of using the ladder and when we went down the slide headfirst; we sang it while we stood on the swings instead of sitting and when we tried to swing so high, we'd go around in a circle; we sang it right before doing crazy jumps into your pool; we sang it to strike fear into our parents' hearts. Your parents probably wished you'd never heard of Van Halen." Truer words had never been spoken. Sometimes, we'd just sang it for the sake of singing it, but my parents couldn't tell the difference. I thought they probably still associated it with our shenanigans. "That was our first anthem, but it wasn't the last. From Lean on Me when one of us was going through a tough time to our timeless and iconic duet of Ease on Down the Road to our equally iconic Lady Marmalade to the number of times we woke each other up to sing Sweet Dreams because we thought that was hilarious."

I hastily wiped away the tear that slipped through my defenses. There was something about Lucy recounting these moments that reminded me of how much we'd been through together. "Music was always an important part of our relationship, but there was also so much more to it. There were all the weekends that you and your parents took me somewhere I'd never been, our weekly Friday night sleepovers in your basement, learning that you didn't think that bananas are a fruit."

"How can they be a fruit?" I muttered to Victor. "They don't have seeds." He stared at me but didn't have the chance to say anything because Lucy was still speaking.

"There was that time we stole the eggs your parents had just bought because we were so sure that they would hatch if we warmed them up, and a hundred nights arguing over the stupidest things that we would laugh about the next morning. One of the stupid things we argued about all the time was the piano. Remember when I begged you to teach me to play piano and then immediately begged you to let me out of it? You tried to teach me… I did not make it easy on you. I'm sorry I hated it so much. You weren't a bad teacher… you were actually a really good teacher; playing piano just sucked." I chuckled. She'd really hated it. I vividly remembered her throwing her shoe at me and telling me piano was dumb.

"Right after I turned twelve…" she coughed. "My mom got sick. She got better and then she got worse and then she got better and then her cancer spread. It was a roller coaster and I never knew what was going to happen each day, but the one thing that was always constant was you. You were always there for me. You were there after every appointment, after every bad day, and when she told us she couldn't fight anymore. I never felt like I was alone. When she was set up with hospice, you came over every day to play guitar for her. Some of her last laughs and smiles were because of you." A tear slid all the way down Lucy's cheek. "You stayed up all night once because she told you her favorite song was The Best and you wanted to be able to play it for her before she left us. The night she passed, I took a bus and came here. You snuck me into your house and we had a sleepover in your basement like we'd done a hundred times. You cried with me and held me and told me to let it all out. You made me smile on a night when I thought I might never smile again." Lucy wiped under her eyes. "That morning, you walked me into your kitchen like you hadn't snuck me in and told your mom what happened. You were there when things got tough and you gave me the tremendous gift of being there for you. We've been through so much since then. Boyfriends and girlfriends and life… so much life. Through that all, you've always been my best friend."

Okay. Okay. I could handle this. I was fine. Totally fine. "I was your first fan and I continue to be a fan of everything you do," she said. "I've known since that first time you played for me that music like yours would reach people. You deserve this chance to make music with your band and have people all over the east coast fall in love with your music just like all of us have. I love you, and I can't wait to see what you do. It felt fitting that I end with the same words our friendship started with. As you go into this next chapter of your life, don't forget… Might as well…"

She didn't try to finish it. Just like we'd been doing since we were little, she left it for me. "Jump."

After Lucy, Lake said a few words. She kept hers brief. "You were just the hottest guy in my grade for such a long time," she started. I glanced at my parents before I looked at the carpet. "It was fun to embarrass you by making comments about seeing you shirtless, but I'm so glad I left those days behind." I raised my eyebrows at her. "Okay, have you looked in a mirror? Can you blame me? I've left behind the days where that was all you were. You are so much more than the hottest guy at Creekwood… who knew?" Victor had to lean away from me because he was trying so hard not to laugh. "Over the last year, you became one of my best friends, someone I know I can trust, someone that has inspired me to be myself." She looked at the ground. "Thank you for being more than I thought you were. You're going to make it big one day, and I'm glad I'll get to tell people that Benji Campbell is more than a hot rockstar. I can tell them how sweet you are and how kind you are and how lucky the people in your life are to know you."

Then Pilar talked about how I wasn't the worst person that could've dated her brother. Then, to my surprise, Mia volunteered to go. Andrew stood with her. It was probably for the best. I had no idea what Andrew could have said. Probably something about Vegas since that was the only time we'd ever spent together. Mia talked about how she wanted to hate me at first, but I was really hard to hate. She talked about how we'd bonded over music and art, and I'd become someone that she reluctantly liked and then someone she was proud to like. I should've just stayed on my feet from all the standing and sitting I was doing so I could hug everyone that talked.

After Felix gave a… unique metaphor about how going on tour was like being rebirthed, it was Victor's turn.

He stood up. He took a deep breath before he opened and closed his mouth. He nodded and a resolute look settled on his face. "We met my first day at Creekwood," he started. "I had no idea who I was but, from that very first day when you told me my shoes were cool, I felt connected to you. I didn't know what that connection meant. Did it mean something that we danced to Call Me Maybe and then a few days later, you'd turned it into a cover? Did it mean something that I was happiest when I was working? It definitely wasn't the coffee that made me look forward to our shifts together but knowing that I would get to see you. Did it mean something that you were able to pick up on when I was upset or nervous or uncomfortable? Or that you made those feelings go away? Did those things mean something or did they only mean something to me?" He closed his eyes. "I made a mess of things, and I did everything wrong, but you forgave me. You were my rock when everything was falling apart; you always encouraged me to be myself; you met my complaining with patience and support; you fought for us when it would have been way easier to let us crumble; you let me run away to Vegas even though it goes against every practical cell in you. I don't want to be saying goodbye to you today, but it would be really selfish of me to keep you here and deprive the world of the music you've written just so I won't miss you. You're going to reach people. I know this is just the start of your musical journey. I love you. Like a lot."

Mindful of the audience we had, I gave him a quick kiss. When we broke apart, Victor cleared his throat. He raised his flute. I honestly forgot the whole point of this was to make a toast. "We're all so proud of you. We're going to miss you a lot, but we know that you deserve to chase your dream. We're honored to be part of your story. To Benji."

"To Benji," echoed around my living room.

It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. The speeches weren't cringey. They were kind of perfect and made me feel like I was made of marshmallows. I think I needed to hear what everyone had said. I hoped that when I was done with my tour and Victor was done with his basketball program, we'd be able to come back to this exact group and share more of these moments together.

Part of me never wanted them to leave, but the other part was overwhelmingly relieved when Victor told them I needed to get some sleep. Our goodbyes lasted a long time but, after a lingering hug from Lucy, everyone was gone.

"What now?" Victor asked uncertainly. Honestly, I wasn't sure I had the answer. Then something popped into my head, and it felt so important even though it probably shouldn't be at the top of my list of priorities.

"There's something I need to do," I told him seriously. We'd left our stuff in the car, so I think Victor thought that something was to take the little stuff we'd brought with us out of the car. I couldn't care less about most of it, but I made a point of finding a place to hang up the star Victor had gotten me.

When I asked my dad for a hammer, he even got out his level so I could make sure we were hanging it straight. My mom joined us just as I was putting the frame on the wall. I stepped back to admire it. For a moment, all four of us just looked at it. My mom reached for my dad's hand and I could see that her eyes were watery. "You got Benji a star," she whispered.

Victor wrapped his arm around me. "It doesn't go with all your posters." He almost sounded apologetic.

I shrugged in his embrace. "I like it. I think I should have more of us around here. Once I get back, I'll print out some more pictures. Maybe steal some that were out tonight."

"I knew you were going to like it," he said smugly.

"I love it," I corrected.

"This was a thoughtful gift," my dad said. He wasn't looking at the star, but at us. "It's a really serious gift."

I shifted uncomfortably. "That makes sense because…" I let out a breath. We'd had this conversation about a thousand times with Victor's parents but never with mine. We'd figured they'd connected the dots and we were more than willing to avoid that discomfort. "Because we're really serious about each other."

There was a slightly awkward silence. "I, uh, wanted to get Benji a gift that represents how I feel about him," Victor said to break the silence. "I know it's a serious gift and maybe you think we're young-"

"We didn't say that," my mom told him. "You are young, but I don't think that means you're not capable of making decisions like this." She closed her eyes. "I really think… I think you're the best thing to ever happen to this family." I could feel Victor stiffen. "You've made us closer; you've reminded us that Benji has someone willing to fight for him… even if that means you're fighting us. I don't know what's going to happen over the next couple of years." My mom sniffed. "Even if something changes between the two of you, we will never stop being grateful for you, and you will always be a part of our family."

"Thanks," Victor said. He rested his cheek against my shoulder and I imagined that he closed his eyes. I couldn't tell if it was from his discomfort or if he was flattered. "Just so you know, Benji does the same thing for me. We're both really lucky. I don't think time is going to change what we have. As long as we keep fighting for each other… we're gonna be okay."

His words sat between us for a few minutes.

"What exactly is a Venji?" my mom asked; her eyes were back on the star. "Or was Benji taken and you chose something that sounded similar?"

"It was intentional. It's like a merging of two names," I provided. "Victor and Benji. Venji."

"Oh. Like Mabel?" she confirmed.

Victor stared at her. "I'm sorry… who?"

"Margaret Campbell."

Victor bit his lip and even I had a lot of trouble keeping a straight face. "Something like that," I confirmed.

"Venji," my mom said again. "It has a nice ring to it… sounds like a star name. This was very romantic, Victor."

He shrugged. "I just wanted to do something special for our first anniversary."

"My expectations are very high for our next anniversary," I told him.

He chuckled.

"What did you get him?" my mom asked.

Victor pointedly looked at the ground.

I coughed. "I made him dinner."

"That's it? He got you a star, Benjamin."

"No, it was nice. I promise," Victor assured her. He still avoided eye contact as if she'd know that dinner had absolutely nothing to do with my anniversary gift to him. I wasn't sure it was a gift, but he'd thoroughly enjoyed himself and it had been exactly what he'd wanted. In truth, he definitely won the anniversary gift-giving competition this year, but I was never going to top a star. In defense of me, he was never going to be able to top a star. He'd peaked early.

"You don't really have fingers to point right now," my dad said gently.

"Oh, hush you. We're not talking about us right now."

"No. I wanna hear this. You guys never talk about when you were dating."

My dad looked at her and raised his hands as if to say, what do you think? My mom let out a frustrated sigh. "If you must, Charles."

I looked back and forth between them uneasily. "Is this a bad story?" I asked uncertainly. I probably should've asked more about their relationship when I was younger, but I hadn't thought to. I'd heard them talk about the day of their wedding and I'd witnessed their marriage but that was it. I didn't even know how they got engaged. I knew way more about Victor's parents' relationship than about theirs. I felt shame rise up in me because I never asked. I was probably too busy trying to hide the fact that I was drinking to pay any attention to them. For all I knew, they'd told me every detail of their relationship and I just didn't remember it.

"Not at all," my mom said. "We weren't like the two of you. I don't think I knew until we graduated college that we were going to have a future together."

"Really?" I asked surprised. My parents were weird, but I felt like they worked together. I couldn't picture either of them with anyone else.

"Yeah. In a lot of ways, I envy the certainty you already have. I love your father." She looked over at my dad. "More than I can describe, but we were together for years before I had the moment where I realized I wanted to be with him for the rest of my life. He, uh…" she coughed. "Knew a little earlier than I did."

My dad laughed. "A little earlier?" He asked. "I knew before our first anniversary."

"What happened?" I asked.

My mom sighed. "It was a mess. Your father took me out to this nice dinner and got me a beautiful necklace," she said. She brought her hand to her neck. "It's the diamond necklace I wear on special occasions. I got him…"

"Socks," my dad finished.

Victor and I both turned to stare at my mom. "Socks?" I asked incredulously. "You got him socks."

"He loved them," she said defensively.

"I did love them," he confirmed.

"He'd been saying for months that he didn't have enough socks."

"I'd also been saying I love you for months, but she didn't pick up on that hint."

"Wait. You hadn't told him you loved him?" I asked.

"We were together seventeen months before she said it," he provided.

"Why-" I cut myself off. "Nevermind." I didn't want to cause problems by asking why he stayed with her so long if she hadn't said it back. I couldn't imagine that.

"I wasn't ready. I, uh… When I was a freshman…" my mom looked away and shook her head before she swallowed.

My dad took her hand. "You don't need to explain yourself. You had your reasons." I couldn't quite connect the feelings of guilt and worry that crept into my chest in response to their words. "And she was worth the wait," my dad added. He brought her hand up and held it to his heart. "She is worth every second of those seventeen months. When she told me she loved me, I had no doubts about her. I knew she meant it and when we finally talked about our future, it meant something that she said she saw a future with me."

There were very few moments where I could remember my mom and dad being affectionate towards one another like this. I never doubted that they loved each other, but they tended to be much more private. I liked seeing them like this. It transformed them from my parents into two people who genuinely loved each other.

"I think that's beautiful," Victor said softly.

My dad nodded. "I agree." He glanced at his watch. "We should leave you two. You need to get your rest. Big day tomorrow."

Victor waited until they left to firmly shut and lock the door. "I didn't know that about your mom," he said quietly.

I hung my head. "Me neither." I knew if his mom had said something like that, he would've gotten the full story from her, but I wouldn't know where to start. I'd never had that kind of relationship with my mom. "I know you would've asked but…"

"But it's different," he interrupted. "It's not a competition." Then why did it feel like one? And why did I feel like I was losing? He hooked his hand around his ear. "I'm serious. My parents are different than your parents. Now, I can spend all night reminding you why feeling bad about our families is pointless or…"

"Or," I agreed. I leaned up and kissed him.

We were leaving bright and early that morning, but neither Victor nor I slept. We didn't talk either. We just held each other and sometimes lost ourselves in our kisses. We would see each other in three weeks, but it already seemed so far away.

When my phone went off and it was Stevie letting me know they were here, I was simultaneously filled with excitement and anxiety.

Victor kissed me before he rolled off my bed. He grabbed the suitcase that I'd packed before we left for Lake Lanier and waited for me to pull my guitar case over my shoulder.

He silently walked me down. My parents were waiting. They must've heard my phone ring or they'd had as much trouble sleeping as we had. My mom was already crying. I knew something had changed between me and my parents over the last couple of months, but nothing had ever proven that as much as the trust they were putting in me right now.

She gave me a long hug. "We're so proud of you," she whispered.

My dad hugged me and coughed, so I knew he was nearly as emotional as my mom. "Be safe and… have fun." He slipped me an envelope that I immediately put in my pocket. I didn't need to ask what it was. We'd talked in depth about my 'emergency fund'; in case things got too hard, I could go to the nearest airport and get back to Atlanta.

My mom gave me another hug. "Check in every day. Even if you don't have time to call, send us a text, so we know you're okay."

"I promise."

Victor and I walked out the door. My parents didn't try to follow. By the curb, I could see Tosh's SUV. His dad had very conveniently had a small enclosed trailer that had been rusting in their backyard since before I knew him. Since he knew how to hook all that up, Tosh had agreed to be the chauffeur for this trip.

When we got to the sidewalk, I turned to Victor. I didn't know what to say. It was part of the reason our night had been so quiet. I'd never been at a loss of words with him, but nothing felt adequate enough to explain my gratitude that he was pushing me to do this or how much I was going to miss him.

I didn't think he had the words either because he leaned down and kissed me. He squeezed my hand before he took the key Stevie was holding out the window. He put my suitcase in Tosh's trunk and went to the back of the trailer to unlock it. I passed him my guitar and he put that in. The spot for my guitar was the last empty space in the trailer. Part of what we'd done on Thursday was map out where everything was going in here so we could make sure our instruments could be secured. My guitar had its own seatbelt and everything.

He went as far as to open the door for me. I slipped into my seat. He was making his tortured face which he only did when he was trying really, really hard not to cry. It made my heart twist into knots. "Bye," he whispered.

He pushed my door shut and took a step back from the curb. I didn't take my eyes off of him as the car started to move. Tosh made it about five feet before I said frantically, "stop, stop!" We couldn't just leave things like this.

Tosh slammed on his brakes. "What?"

I didn't answer him. I just jumped out of his car and ran back to Victor. "What are you doing?" Victor asked incredulously.

I wrapped my arms around him and he immediately returned my embrace. "I'll miss you," I said quietly.

His arms tightened around me. "I'm going to miss you so much," he whispered. "But I'm so proud of you, Benji. I love you. Like so much."

I chuckled into his shoulder. "I love you too." I pulled back just a little so I could look at him. "I cannot begin to thank you for this." My voice caught. "But when I see you in three weeks, I will show you exactly how much I appreciate what you've given up for me."

"I'm going to hold you to that."

He leaned down and kissed me gently. When he broke the kiss, he rested his head against mine. He didn't say anything else; we just stood like that for a moment. I pressed my lips to his one last time before I went back to the car.

When I got into my seat, Tosh turned to face me. "Are you ready this time or do you want to squeeze in a quickie?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Just drive, would you?"

He did. Derek somehow had ended up in the middle with Mylo on his other side. I didn't know how he'd drawn the short end of that stick because he was taller than Mylo. He nudged me. "You okay?" he whispered.

I only nodded. One talk was not enough to make things normal between us, and I wasn't in a place to make an effort right now. I was wearing Victor's basketball hoodie, and I pulled up the hood before I rested my head against the glass. I closed my eyes and found myself drifting off despite how unsettled I felt.

Victor's call came in the afternoon before our first concert. It wasn't the first time we'd talked since I left Wednesday morning. We'd texted essentially my whole drive to Florida, then had FaceTimed while I got settled into the motel room, then had spent all day yesterday in a hybrid of texting, calling, and FaceTiming. I wasn't expecting the call because he'd texted me this morning telling me he knew this was going to be a busy day and that I should call if I had time.

"I'll be right back," I said as I stood up. We'd finished setting up. We were planning on running through our set once, but we needed to wait for Stevie. He was double-checking everything with the other band's manager. I stepped outside and found a shady place to sit.

When I answered, his entire family filled my screen. He must've propped his phone on something so they could all fit on the call because they were too far away for someone to be holding it.

"Hey," I said surprised.

Victor's face lit up with a smile. "Hey." The word just kind of sat between us. I knew it wasn't just him on the call but, for a second, it felt like it was.

"Oh my God. You've been gone for like two seconds," Pilar said in a disgruntled voice. "Stop acting like you've been apart for years." I snickered. "We wanted to call to wish you luck today."

"It's break a leg," Adrian told her. "Good luck is bad luck."

"That's only in theater," Pilar argued.

"I don't think so. I think it's for any type of performance," Adrian said.

"No. 'I'm going to be an understudy if you can't make one of the shows, so break a leg. In theater, that means good luck'," Pilar quoted.

Victor turned around to stare at her. "Did you just quote High School Musical?"

"It's not my fault," she protested. "Ms. Wilincowski used to put that on anytime we had a spare second. She was way more obsessed with it than any middle school Language teacher should be. That's the only reason I'm sure it's just for theater."

"Maybe it was easier to say theater than theater and concerts," Adrian suggested.

I'd thought Pilar and Victor could get into their back and forth, but I was starting to realize it was a family trait. Pilar and Adrian both looked at me expectantly.

I guessed I was supposed to settle their argument. I never had the chance to. "Tonight's a big night. How are you feeling, mijo?" Isabel asked.

I saw Victor's smile grow. Isabel calling me mijo was a relatively new development. I hadn't known what it meant until Victor told me, and I always felt really warm and pleased whenever she called me it. Victor had assured me that a ton of people didn't use it to literally mean son and he'd been beaming. Apparently, it was a real honor to be called a nickname by her.

"I'm a little nervous," I admitted. "We're at the venue. It's huge. The biggest place we've ever played at."

"You'll be fine," she said confidently.

"How's Florida?" Adrian asked.

"It's hot," I answered honestly. "I thought Georgia was hot, but it's next level here." It was a different kind of heat than I was used to.

"Did you get to explore the area yesterday?"

I was on the phone with his family for nearly thirty minutes. The entire time, he didn't say anything. He just watched me with the same small smile on his face. I knew why. Victor loved how much his family loved me. I knew this because he made a point of saying it every time we did anything with his family.

We stayed on together until Mylo came out to tell me they were ready to run through the set. "I'll be right in," I promised him.

"We're gonna let you go," Isabel said as she stood up. "Have fun!"

"Thanks."

"Call me tonight," Victor said. "Whenever you finish. I want to hear all about it."

"I will." I glanced behind him at his family before I looked back at him. I wasn't sure how comfortable he'd be saying 'I love you' in front of them, but I guessed he didn't care.

"Love you."

"Love you too."

He ended the call just as Pilar started making a gagging noise.

When I went back inside, I threw myself into my music to fend off the sensation of homesickness that was creeping through my chest.

I hadn't known what to expect. We were opening for a primarily unknown band, but the venue was packed by the time we took the stage. It wasn't full by any means, but it was the most amount of people we'd ever played for.

I took a deep breath before we started.

It was unlike anything. Either people in Florida were way friendlier than they were in Georgia or everyone here was drunk, but they created this energetic atmosphere that was contagious. I didn't have to think. When I played my music, I felt like I existed outside of myself. I was able to fully give myself to my performance. We were singing a mix of covers and originals - two of each. A lot of the audience sang along with us as we did our two covers, but their enthusiasm was unmistakable when we switched to our originals.

By the end of our set, I was starting to feel like maybe this was exactly what I wanted to do with my life. I wanted to chase this feeling of weightlessness and euphoria and wholeness.

When The Minor Keys met us backstage after the concert, they had nothing but positives to say about our performance. Honestly, they were amazing too. I thought we were a pretty good match for stuff like this.

Yeah, I was feeling pretty good. Until Eric started to pass out beer. He handed me a cup. "Thanks," I said uncomfortably.

I held it in front of me as he finished passing out cups. He held his up. "To the first of many, many successful concerts together."

We clinked our cups together, and I brought the cup to my mouth to pretend to take a sip. I could practically feel Derek's eyes on me as I put the cup on the table next to me.

He didn't stop. The euphoria that clung to me earlier started to fade and in its place was that hollow feeling I used to feel. It was always my crash after feeling excessively happy. That, and Derek watching my every move, was too much for me. Every other concert we'd done, Victor had been there. It had helped fend off this feeling to have someone who was so proud and so adept at distracting me. Now, I felt like I was all alone.

I told myself it was just because it was my first concert without Victor and it was going to be hard in the beginning as I got used to being around drinking without him, but I hadn't thought to prepare for this.

It shouldn't be a big deal. I'd been around a ton of drinking. Until Victor had found out that I was in AA, there'd been a bunch of times that I'd been the only sober person around. I guess I'd just gotten used to having Victor with me when it was happening. He'd become a buffer in so many ways. Despite how many times I'd told him he could drink around me, I hadn't realized how much I'd come to depend on the stability of constantly having another person with me that wasn't going to drink. He indulged every now and then, but I didn't think he was much of a drinker in the first place because, even before he found out, I'd only seen him drink a handful of times, and he'd only gotten drunk once around me.

It was a part of this whole thing that I'd never thought of. Why would I? It had never come up. When all of our gigs had been local and our 'after parties' had consisted of hanging out at someone's house until we crashed. Now, I was faced with a reality I was entirely unprepared to deal with. This was an inevitability. If this was the life I chose for myself, this would just be the first of many, many, many nights that I would have to choose my sobriety over my band. I hated it. With that hate, a new feeling surged in me. It was a feeling I was unpleasantly familiar with. I wanted to drink. Badly. It had been a while since I'd wanted to drink like this. My brain was convincing. I wouldn't be drinking for the wrong reasons, so what was the harm? And it always felt so good. SO good. I yearned for that sweet relief. Despite my brain's attempts to break me, I held fast. I knew if I didn't do something, what felt like a small spark would grow into a raging inferno.

The spark was a deep-rooted agitation that seemed to target my heart first. Slowly at first, then faster and faster until I could practically feel my heartbeat echoing throughout my entire body. Then the warmth came - fiery hot and consuming. I felt like it was eating away at my chest and I knew exactly how to make it go away. "Nineteen months," I thought as loudly as I could. "I can make it one more night."

Those were the words I thought, but whatever part of my brain needed to hear them seemed to completely ignore them. Instead, my brain was reminding me how good it felt; how powerful it felt; how it felt like it gave me control over my life. I tried to remember all the reasons that had led to me stopping and committing to my sobriety, but they were leaving me fast. It was like Victor always said… Victor! I texted him quickly. Are you awake?

His response came through before I could lock my phone. Of course.

"I've got a headache," I told everyone. "I think I'm gonna take some Tylenol and try to get some sleep. I can walk back to the room. It's not too far."

"Uh-huh. Say hi to Victor for us," Stevie said. I knew I was blushing and Tosh laughed.

It was ten minutes of goodbyes before I got to step outside. I expected the sweet relief of the cooling air, but it was still hot. Not as hot as it had been earlier, but I still longed for the relief of an air-conditioned room. I called Victor.

"Hey," he breathed when he answered his phone. Just like earlier, the word seemed to sit between us. "How was it?"

"It was good. Really good. The energy, Vic. I can't even explain it. It's amazing."

"That's great!" I could hear his genuine enthusiasm. "Tell me more."

I spent my entire walk back to my motel room telling him all about the concert and trying to put words to the intangible feelings I experienced playing on stage. He only interrupted a handful of times to tell me that he loved our song choices or to ask a question about what the venue was like. When I keyed into my room, I flicked the lights on. "Hold on a sec. I'm gonna switch." It only took a couple of seconds before his face filled my screen. He was lying back on his bed and had his phone above his face.

"Why didn't you do that in the first place?" He asked.

"I was walking back."

"Why were you walking?" He scrunched up his forehead. "I thought Tosh was driving."

"He is. I, uh, left before the rest of my bandmates." Honestly, depending on whether Tosh ended up sticking with the one drink, they all might end up walking back anyway.

"Why?"

I bit my lip. "They're… celebrating." He was quiet while he waited for me. "I didn't think it would be this hard," I finally said. "Being around them when they're drinking. Or, I guess I thought it wouldn't happen this soon."

"How hard is it?" He asked quietly.

"I haven't wanted to drink like this in a long time." Once again, he waited. I knew what he wanted. He and I had met with Hank a few days after my parents agreed to me going away for this and Hank had coached Victor through a few things. He'd told Victor that he needed to wait for me to be specific and had warned Victor to reach out if he felt like I was getting to a point where it was too hard to talk about because the harder it got to not drink, the harder it would be for me to reach out for help. Victor had promised me I would know if he felt like he needed to call Hank, but I was nervous that he would already feel that way. I thought about telling him that I was just overreacting, but I couldn't bring myself to lie to him. "It's not as bad as it was before my accident, but it's worse than it's been since I got sober."

"Okay," he said simply. "How can I help?"

"This is helping," I told him seriously. "Just being on the phone with me. I already feel a hundred times better than I did before."

"Good."

"Do you think I made a mistake?" I asked reluctantly. "Do you think I can do this?"

He studied me for a moment. "I don't think you made a mistake," he finally said. "It's the first minute of the first day. Honestly, I kind of feel like this will be the hardest time for you."

"Really?" I asked skeptically.

"Yeah. Think about it. You're away from your family and friends and… me. Everyone that knows about this and supports you with this… we're all in Atlanta. You're in a completely different state. It's going to be six weeks before you're home again. You know you tend to have pretty low lows after you're really happy. It's a big adjustment right now. Are you going to drink tonight?"

"No, of course not."

"There you go. That's how I know you can do this. You'll be okay."

"Yeah."

He suddenly looked guilty. "I think you should think about telling your bandmates that you don't drink. You don't need to tell them why, but maybe it would be easier if you didn't have to pretend to drink around them."

"No," I said. "They wouldn't understand, and they'd want to know why. Then Derek would make it obvious that he knows, and we'd never hear the end of it. I don't want to tell them. I don't even know if you'd know now if my parents hadn't done it for me. Everyone that knows outside of AA… they found out; I didn't tell them."

"Maybe that's part of the problem," he said gently. "You've been talking about how much better you've been feeling about it, but if you can't tell people like Lake or Felix…"

"So you don't trust me? You don't think I'm getting better?"

"That's not it." He shook his head. "I feel like this is coming out all wrong. You don't have to tell anyone, but… it's like you just said. You couldn't even tell me about this. Maybe if you start talking about it, that'll help."

"I don't know," I hedged.

"Okay. You don't have to tell anyone else; I just thought it might help. Just… don't stop talking to me about it, okay? I'm not trying to pawn you off on anyone." It was one of those moments where Victor seemed to read my mind. "I just don't want you to hold this over yourself. So, think about it, okay?"

"I will." I studied him for a moment. "Are you going to call Hank?"

"No," he said seriously. "I promised you I would only do that as a last resort and I meant it. You told me you're not going to drink. I believe you."

I ducked my head. "Thanks."

"There's nothing to thank me for. You're doing the hard part."

"Right. So, tell me what's going on with you. Please tell me you're not just staying home all the time now that I'm gone."

"You've been gone three days," he said with an eye roll. "I promise, I'm not becoming a hermit without you." I really couldn't be sure if that was true. He wasn't anti-social by any means, but he also had never really been single since he moved here, so he always had someone to get him out and going places. "My dad, Adrian, and I had a boy's night tonight."

"Oh, yeah?" I asked. "What was that like?"

He filled me in on the hilarity and sweetness of their night that culminated in them playing basketball in a court near their apartment. He was recounting how he and Adrian had teamed up on his dad and how he'd picked up Adrian so he could dunk the ball. His dad had apparently spent a couple of minutes sulking because he thought they'd cheated. It seemed like he'd had a really fun night. "I think we're going to try to do it every couple of weeks or so."

"That's great. Bet Adrian's excited about that."

Victor chuckled. "He is. If he's not sick of me by the time I leave for my program, it'll be a miracle, but he's excited right now."

"Have you heard anything more about the program?"

"Not since they confirmed my place. They said I'll get more information at the end of June. I did find out from Bram that Jason's gonna be there." He looked excited about that. I wasn't surprised; he'd had a truly transformational time in New York and he felt like the game he'd played was the start of it. "I think he was only asked so they can prove I'm not the only gay basketball player, but I don't care. It'll be nice to see him."

"It'll be good for you to connect with all of your New York friends. When are they coming down?"

"Simon and Bram'll be in Georgia June 15th for Bram's little brother's birthday. He doesn't live in Atlanta… I can't remember where they said the party would be. Then Justin, Kim, and Ivy are road tripping down a few days later."

"I can't believe I'm not going to meet them."

"I'm trying to see if they'll stick around two extra days and maybe go with me to Virginia to meet you before they head home," he told me. "They didn't seem to hate the idea, but Ivy wasn't sure if she could find coverage at work."

"If they can't, it's fine. I can meet them some other time. As long as you're there, I'll be happy."

He smiled. "What are you doing tomorrow before the concert? Do you have another day of practice or do you get to go to the beach?" I thought we'd have time to do stuff yesterday, but we spent the whole day either practicing or coordinating with the venue or the other band to make sure everything was set.

"Another day of practice. Hopefully, I'll get to go to the beach Sunday. Get some sun. Maybe swim a bit."

"Good. That sounds nice. Maybe you'll feel better after a day to just relax."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Nothing, really. Just that you've been working so hard since you found out about this tour. It'll be nice for you to have a break from… everything and everyone, you know?"

He didn't say it, but I connected the dots. "And be away from people drinking?" I guessed.

He looked at me surprised. "That's not what I said."

"But you were thinking it, right? You were thinking, 'thank God I won't have to worry about Benji drinking'?"

He stared at me. "What the hell just happened?" he asked.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't even know. "Sorry."

"You don't need to apologize. I know you thought that this was going to be easy, but I kind of thought the beginning would be hard for you. Just… maybe don't take it out on me. It's hard enough not seeing you in person."

I knew he spoke words, but I felt like my brain stopped processing them when he told me he thought I was going to struggle. "Why didn't you say anything?" I asked incredulously.

"Huh? Did you think it was gonna be easy for us to be apart?"

I honestly couldn't care less about that right now. "No. That you thought I was going to want to drink."

"Oh." He frowned at me and I could see that he didn't realize he'd done something wrong. "I didn't want you to think that I didn't believe in you. You were so excited and I thought if there was any chance of this not being hard, I needed to let you believe it wouldn't be." He looked at me guiltily.

"Yeah because not being able to mentally prepare for this made it so much easier," I said bitterly.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know what the right thing to do was. I just wanted to support you."

"You don't get it," I snapped. 99% of the time, he was amazing about things like this. Then there were times like this. I couldn't explain why this was my breaking point, but there was something about it that seemed to be chipping away at my patience. Probably because I was always on edge and seconds away from snapping when we talked about this. "You weren't there when I was getting sober or before I tried to get sober. You don't understand how hard this was. It's a part of me that you can't understand because you came into my life after I pulled myself back together. You can't make decisions about what's going to make this easier on me because you don't know, and you can't possibly understand."

I was probably a little snappier than I should have been. It was probably a culmination of the fact that I had to talk to him over FaceTime instead of in person, finding out that he didn't believe in me, and the stress of wanting to drink again.

He was quiet for an agonizingly long minute. "You're right. I didn't live in Atlanta when everything went down with you but don't tell me I don't understand. I get that I don't know what it's like for you to want to drink, but I understand that you struggle. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just didn't want you to think that you couldn't do this. I know you'll be okay."

"Do you?" I challenged. "Because you didn't think I could handle this."

Apparently, that was his breaking point. "If I didn't think you could handle this, I wouldn't have fought for you to be able to go. There was never any doubt that you wouldn't drink. I just thought it was going to be harder than you did." I hated his tone. It made me feel like I was being completely unreasonable, and I wasn't.

I closed my eyes. I couldn't keep talking about this, but I also felt the need to make him understand. He needed to know why this was wrong. "Don't you see that-" Stevie walked in, and I cut myself off.

His hand was over his eyes. "Am I interrupting something?" He asked.

"Will you stop?" I asked. There was a little more hostility in my voice than there would've been if he wasn't interrupting our argument.

He removed his hand and grinned at me. "Couldn't help myself. Are you feeling better?" It took me a second to figure out what he was talking about. I'd completely forgotten about my fabricated story.

"My headache is all cleared up," I assured Stevie.

He walked up behind me. "Hey, Victor."

"Hey. I heard it went well tonight." Victor's voice sounded weird and I could see from the tiny picture of Stevie in the corner of my screen that he noticed.

"It did," Stevie confirmed.

"Um… great. I'll let you go. I'm sure you need your sleep. Talk to you tomorrow?" He got a nervous look on his face and I knew we'd be revisiting this. We couldn't just leave things there.

I nodded. "Night."

"Night."

I held my phone up even after he was gone. "Did you leave because of Derek?"

"Huh?" I asked. I turned to face Stevie. Derek was honestly the last thing on my mind right now.

"Is that why you left?"

"No. Is that what you all think?"

The look on his face was a good enough answer but that didn't stop him from saying, "can you blame us?"

"What did Derek have to say about it?"

"Not much."

"I didn't leave because of him. I just wanted to talk to Victor, and I wasn't feeling good."

"Are you sure that's it?" He asked.

For a second, I thought about telling him. Maybe Victor was right. Maybe it would help but, the moment I thought about it, the most intense feeling of dread filled me. I couldn't get the words out. I'd made big strides towards forgiving myself, but I wasn't ready to tell other people. "I'm sure. I need to take a shower."

When I got out, Stevie was fast asleep. I checked my phone. There was a message from Victor. Goodnight. I'm sorry. I love you. I fell asleep clutching my phone in my hand and feeling like I'd been a colossal jackass while simultaneously feeling some righteous indignation that Victor had been wrong.

The next day was a whirlwind. It was another long day of practice before our concert. This time, when I left early, it was because I genuinely wanted to curl up and go to sleep. Not that I slept. My brain wouldn't turn off. I kept replaying our argument in my head over and over and over again. I heard Stevie when he came in, and I thought he was surprised that I was in bed. They'd probably all assumed I was calling Victor or avoiding Derek. It didn't matter to me what they thought. Victor and I had barely talked today. I wasn't ready to give him the apology I knew he deserved. I was still so angry that he hadn't told me.

Our only day off in Miami was Sunday. We had outdoor concerts scheduled every other night until we left. Sunday, I woke up to the pouring rain. So much for the beach. I just wanted to roll over and succumb to sleep, but my brain refused to let me. My bandmates said something about going somewhere, but I claimed my headache was back. I couldn't tell if they believed me, but I must've looked miserable enough that they weren't willing to push me on it. They were barely out the door before a restless feeling crept through me. I couldn't stay here. I thought about calling them to meet up with them but, while I couldn't stay in my room, I felt like I couldn't be with them either. I grabbed my guitar case and threw on the plastic cover before I walked out.

It didn't take long before I walked past a gazebo. It was entirely deserted and seemed like a good enough spot to be alone. Before I could change my mind, I texted Victor and asked him to call me when he woke up. I half expected my phone to ring right away and, when it didn't, I took a seat on one of the benches before I pulled out my guitar. I didn't know what I wanted to play, so I started stringing together random chords until I realized I was playing a song. It was cathartic. The rain was falling so hard, it seemed to make a curtain around me. Nothing could get to me here. About halfway through the chorus, my phone started to ring. I hoped it was Victor, and I was surprised when it was Lucy. I answered it and put her on speaker. "Hey."

"Hey," she said.

"What's up?"

"Victor said he thought I should call you."

"What? Why?"

"You tell me."

"I have no idea. Did he, uh, talk to you today?"

"No. He talked to me yesterday, but I was asleep before you were done with your concert." Maybe he was still sleeping, I reasoned. I didn't have proof he was ignoring me.

"What did he say?"

"He said he thinks you're homesick, but I don't believe that for a second. What's going on?"

"I do think I'm a little homesick, but not for home. I miss all of you."

"We miss you too," Lucy told me. "How's it been going?"

I hesitated. "It's been… good?"

"Right. And fish swim in the sky. If you don't tell me what's going on, I will call your mother," she warned.

She wouldn't actually, but she knew the threat would get through to me. "Victor and I got into a small fight two days ago. We're fine; we just need to talk about it."

"What did you fight about? Oh, hold on. You wanna go for a walk, girlie? Okay, come here. There's a good girl. Yeah? Are we gonna go for a nice, long walk?" She was quiet for a minute. "Sorry. I was supposed to walk Addie an hour ago, but I slept in. What did you fight about?"

"I, uh…" I let out a frustrated sigh. "I told him that he can't understand my stuff with drinking because he wasn't here when I got in my accident."

"You told Victor, the guy who loves you so much that he's read books on alcoholism and has met with your sponsor multiple times and has trusted you to open about it, that he can't understand you?" she confirmed. I wished she saw that that was all part of the problem. He had to read about it or ask me or Hank about it; he didn't understand.

I groaned. "When you say it like that, it sounds like I'm overreacting."

"Are you?" she challenged.

"No. Yes. I don't know. Friday was such a stressful day and then we were surrounded by beer after the concert. I know I took my stress out on him, but I'm not wrong. He doesn't get it. He thought I was going to struggle, and he didn't tell me. He didn't believe that I could handle it."

"Have you talked to him about it? What the accident and after your accident was like?"

"I mean, yeah."

"Then maybe he does understand. I'm not picking sides, and I'd be on your team if I had to, but I have trouble believing that Victor doesn't believe in you. He's essentially been your biggest defender with this tour."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that we were all nervous about this, but he said you could handle this because you're the strongest guy he knows."

"He said that?" I felt even guiltier for what I'd said to him.

"Yeah. He told us that you built yourself back up, and we needed to see who you are now and not who you used to be."

"That doesn't mean he gets me. I mean, he keeps telling me I need to tell more people. He thinks I should tell my bandmates."

"Is he wrong?" she asked.

"Not you too," I groaned.

"I'm sure if he thinks telling your bandmates is a good idea, he has his reasons," she pointed out. So much for being on my side.

"He thinks I'm holding myself back and I'm stopping myself from getting over this." I waited for her to tell me that he was being ridiculous, but she never did. "Really?"

"Look," she said after a moment. "You may be able to play the you-didn't-know-me-then card with Victor, but you can't do it with me. Until Victor knew, I thought you were over what happened, but then I saw… you just seem different now. It's nice to see some of the guilt you used to carry go away. I think Victor just wants it to go away completely. I do too. I want you to be happy, Benji. To stop blaming yourself for what happened. If opening up to more people might help you get there, wouldn't it be worth it?"

I rubbed my eyes. I didn't want to talk about this anymore. I was getting tired of everyone telling me that talking to more people about this was the solution. "You say that as someone that has no idea what it's like to be eighteen and know that you'll never drink again because you were dumb enough to become a teenage alcoholic," I said bitterly. It was the hardest thing for me to get past. I didn't know a single other person that was in my position which only added layers and layers of shame. A lot of people in AA drank when they were in high school but not like I did. It wasn't a problem for them when they were that young. I could feel my agitation spreading throughout me. It made me feel like my skin was too tight and I felt like I wanted to scream as loud as humanly possible.

"Do you even want us to understand?" Lucy asked. Her voice quivered as if it took actual effort for her to not raise her voice. I could vividly picture how red her face would get and how she'd puff out her cheeks. I'd seen Lucy angry about ten thousand times, but she'd never been angry with me before. Even after my accident, where everyone else had been pissed, Lucy had just wanted to be there for me. "I feel like every time we almost make a breakthrough, you play the you-can't-possibly-understand card. If you're not ready to forgive yourself, that is what it is, but stop making us feel like shit in the process. It's not fair to us."

"I don't want to fight with you too," I said quietly. I knew I was fighting a losing battle and I was honestly just drained. I didn't have it in me.

I could practically feel the effort it took for her to say, "fine. What do you want to talk about?"

"Not about me. Tell me about your summer. Have you talked to Lake yet?"

She groaned. "She is not picking up on any of the hints I'm dropping. I don't even know if she's interested in having sex. It's like she doesn't think about it at all."

"I'm sure she thinks about it, Luce," I told her. "Maybe she's just nervous. I'm pretty sure you're gonna be the first girl she sleeps with."

"She's gonna be my first too," Lucy said. "And it scares the hell out of me, but I want to get there with her."

"Tell her that," I encouraged. "You're the queen of being direct. Be direct with her. Stop dropping hints and tell her what you want."

"I know. I don't wanna freak her out though. What did you do before you had sex with a guy for the first time?"

"Honestly? I spent a lot of time on online forums getting advice from strangers. Stay away from porn unless you want to set a bar you'll never reach. I didn't talk to Patrick, but I wish I had. Victor talked to me before our first time, and I feel like he went into it way more confident because of it. Talk to Lake. Find out what she likes. Your sex is gonna be different than my sex, but one thing that's the same is that you need to be on the same page as her. She needs to know what you want it to look like, and you need to know what she wants."

"Ugh." I couldn't help my laugh. I wasn't used to Lucy struggling to talk about things. I think it was kind of sweet that she liked someone enough that conversations like these were hard. "I'm over this. Tell me about Miami. Let me live vicariously through you."

Even then, my agitation didn't end. I was grateful when Lucy had to go meet Lake for lunch, so I could get back to my guitar. I picked up with the same song I was playing before. "Let it be," I started to sing. "Let it be. Let it be. Let it be. Whisper words of wisdom, let it be."

I lost myself in the song and looped back to the beginning once I finished. I wasn't remotely religious, but there was something about the song that always felt comforting. It wasn't until I heard the loudest boom of thunder I'd ever heard that I paused. I opened my eyes just in time to see someone jump over the edge of the gazebo. Their skateboard hit the ground a split second before they landed on it. "Whoo," she crowed. "Nothing like that. John Lennon, you got a nice set of pipes."

"Oh. Thanks." She shook out her hair. Little beads of water went flying and I hastily held my guitar away from the offending droplets. "Hey! Watch it!"

She grinned at me. "Sorry. So, John. Can I call you John?"

"My name's Benji."

"Right. I'm gonna call you John. I don't recognize you."

"Do you know everyone in Miami?" I asked skeptically. It seemed to me that Miami was at least close in size to Atlanta and I doubted I knew a tiny fraction of the people that lived in Atlanta.

She laughed. "Not at all. I do know most of the brooding, play music in the rain types, though."

I shrugged. "I'm only visiting Miami."

"So, naturally, you're spending your vacation alone in a gazebo?" she questioned.

"We were gonna go to South Beach, but the weather had other plans."

"Ugh. South Beach." She made a face.

"What's wrong with South Beach?"

"What's right with South Beach? Trust me."

"I don't know you," I pointed out.

"Fair enough. I'll let you get back to your brooding."

"I'm not brooding."

She raised her eyebrows at me. "John, if you're not brooding, then it's not raining." I wished she'd stop calling me John.

"Maybe it's not. Maybe we're sharing a hallucination."

She started to let out these deep, heady laughs. She had the kind of laugh that was contagious; I felt a reluctant smile spread across my face. "Oh, he smiles. I didn't know you could do that."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Do you always do this? Come up to random guys and criticize them?"

"Only the cute ones," she winked. Uh oh. "No. But, um, seriously. I hope I'm not offending you. You know, my mom always tells me I come on too strong. It's one of the many ways that I'm a failure."

"Oh. I'm, uh, sorry," I said uncomfortably.

"This is my spot. Every couple of weeks, my mom comes and visits and I always need to get some air afterward." She shrugged. "When I'm skating, I leave all that behind. It's just me and my board."

"I get that," I told her. I knew nothing about skateboarding, but I got the appeal of an escape.

She sat down on the bench next to mine. "So, what are you escaping?"

I hesitated. "I… got into a fight with my boyfriend and now he hasn't called in two days." I stared down at my lap and looked at her out of the corner of my eyes. I'd been telling people I was gay for almost two years, but sometimes the fear still gripped me when I was telling someone for the first time.

She barely reacted. "About what? Is he mad that you took off to Miami without him?"

I looked up at her. I have the sudden impossible thought that maybe she was at one of my concerts and was stalking me. "How do you know he's not here?"

"Lucky guess. You said he hasn't called in two days."

I couldn't remember if I'd said "called" or "talked" earlier. I studied her for a moment, but she didn't look like a stalker. Did anyone look like a stalker, though? I sighed. I was definitely overthinking this. "Yeah. He's not here but that's not why we fought. He encouraged me to come."

"You finding yourself or something?"

"Or something," I confirmed. "The thing is… he didn't tell me something that was kind of a big deal. We tell each other everything."

"That seems unhealthy," she said.

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I dunno. I guess I just feel like boundaries are a good thing, ya know? If you tell each other everything, where's the spontaneity? Where's the romance? It sounds boring. Plus, it seems like you give him a lot of power over you."

"It's not about power with us, and it's not boring. We still surprise each other. He's one of the most romantic people I know," I told her. I could tell she looked doubtful. It made me weirdly defensive. It shouldn't have. She was a completely random stranger; why should I care if she thought my relationship was unhealthy? "Look, I don't need your judgment. I love my boyfriend, and I love that he's the one person on this planet that I don't have to be afraid to talk to. We tell each other everything because we trust each other. I'm sorry if you think that's boring. I think it's really special."

She held up her hands. "Okay, okay, Romeo. Geez. Didn't mean to hit a sore spot."

"You didn't." I rubbed my arms. "If I'm being honest, part of the reason I'm so upset with him is because it means something that he didn't talk to me about this. I'm… having a hard time right now being away from everyone, and he thought this was going to be hard. He said it's not because he didn't trust me, but I'm not so sure. It feels like he didn't think I'd be able to handle the truth."

"And this boyfriend? He usually lies so you won't be upset with him?" she confirmed.

"Er, well, no," I admitted. He usually struggled a little to get the words out, but he was almost always honest with me.

"John, can I be real with you?"

I eyed her warily. "Sure."

"I think there's something else going on. That, or your relationship really is unhealthy." She let out a sigh. "Look. I am, by nature, cynical. I have trouble believing in love because I don't think I've ever seen it or felt it or had anyone love me."

"That can't be true."

"It is," she said softly. "It's not me having a pity party. It's just… what it is. But you think you're in love. You talked about having someone that you can be completely yourself with. I don't know what that's like, but I think if I had someone like that… I'd do everything in my power to keep them in my life. I hear it's really something to love someone and to have someone love you." There was something about her expression - the mix of resignation and sorrow - that made my stomach drop.

"He's not going anywhere," I said confidently. "We'll work through this. I dunno. Maybe I just miss him."

"What's that like?" she muttered.

"Haven't you ever missed anyone?"

"Maybe when I was little. I don't let myself get close enough to anyone to miss them now."

"That seems lonely."

She shrugged. "Perks of being a teen in foster care. It's a glamorous life."

"Foster care?" I asked surprised.

"Yep," she popped out. "What? Do I not look the part?"

"Uh… no?"

She laughed. "Yeah. Well, it's true. I've been in and out of different foster homes for…" she squinted. "Four years now. Sorry. You probably don't want to hear this. My mom always tells me that I talk too much."

I had to admit, it was a little weird when we first started talking, but there was something about her energy that kind of sucked me into our conversation. "I don't mind. Four years. That's a long time."

"Yeah, well. I'm essentially the ball my mom and DCF use in their custody ping pong game. She doesn't stay clean long enough to get custody back. Right now, we're just running down the clock until I can get emancipated. Four more months."

"That sucks. Does your dad not want custody?"

"He's… not in the picture. He wasn't great. Doesn't know how to keep his hands to himself." I felt my stomach twist. That could mean a few things and none of them were good.

"Shit. Sorry."

She shrugged. "There's no point in feeling sorry. It's not going to change my life." She looked behind her. The rain was still coming down strong.

"That song you were singing before. It was good."

"Thanks?"

"Is that the kind of music you like to play?"

"Sometimes."

"What else do you play?"

"I like a lot of stuff."

"Can I hear something else?"

"Sure." I thought for a second before I settled on the song. It was a song I'd learned first on the piano and had eventually learned on the guitar. It sounded better on the piano, but I was working with what I had. "We dreamers have our ways. Of facing rainy days. And somehow we survive," I sang. She didn't say a word the entire song. When I dragged out my final, "and made it through," I waited for her reaction.

Her back was to me, and when she turned to face me, she had an unreadable expression on her face. "Thank you," she said simply before she picked up her skateboard. Her voice was shaky. "Talk to that boyfriend of yours. And, if you wanna stop having a hard time, maybe do something other than sulk in the rain. Take it from someone who knows, it's lonely to be by yourself in the storm."

"I'll talk to him," I promised. "And you? You shouldn't listen to your mom. You seem pretty great to me."

She ran out into the rain without another word. I honestly thought I imagined it, but I didn't think I'd be able to fabricate that whole conversation.

I stared at my guitar for a moment after she left. I couldn't wrap my head around what had just happened, but I couldn't shake her words. It's lonely to be by yourself in the storm. I didn't want to be by myself anymore. I tried calling Victor, but he didn't answer. I guessed that would have to wait. I sent him a text saying I needed to talk to him. He was officially ignoring me and maybe it was justified, but I really hoped he'd stop ignoring me before the day was over.

I called Stevie, and he told me where they were. I didn't think I fully got out of my slump, but it definitely helped.

It was late when Victor finally called me. His face filled my screen, and he looked worried. I filled him in on my day and found out that he hadn't been ignoring me. Apparently, his aunt went into labor. His parents left for Texas yesterday, so he'd been busy today between Adrian and work. I thought it was a small miracle that he'd essentially forgotten about his phone all day when he was borderline addicted to it, but I believed him. I felt guilty for assuming his silence was about me. We had a good talk. A really good talk. I thought we both put a lot out there. I apologized and he apologized; he was patient while I tried to explain to him why it's so hard to think about telling people about this; I let him plead his case about how much he loves me and how that meant he wants me to be at peace with my accident. It was probably a long-overdue conversation, one I should have started before I left, but I didn't think it mattered. It only mattered that we were finally talking about it.

It was still hard. My week seemed fast and slow at the same time. Thursday was a particularly stressful day. I couldn't put words to why it was so stressful. Maybe it was because Tuesday had been an uncomfortably stressful day that I hadn't even begun to process yet, or because I couldn't talk to Victor at all today because he had work before he had to watch Adrian, or because my mom called and her first question had been whether I'd looked into AA meetings in the area, or because things were tense between me and all of my bandmates because Tosh had thoughtlessly made a joke about how Derek and I used to date that neither of us had found funny and had divided us about whether we were overreacting or whether Tosh had crossed a line, or maybe it was because I was already anticipating how little sleep we'd be getting that night, or maybe it was just because I missed Victor so much it sometimes seemed like my world revolved around that.

After we got back to our motel, Tosh suggested we all meet up in his room to celebrate. He held up a bottle of wine. "Eric's treat to celebrate our first week." I was prepared this time. When he passed out the cups, I immediately pretended I needed to use the bathroom. I dumped out my cup and rinsed it out before I filled it with water. It wasn't even close to being the translucent yellowish color of the wine, but I hoped no one would look too closely at my cup.

It didn't help. I was still surrounded by my increasingly drunk bandmates. These were the people I was supposed to feel comfortable around, but I only felt myself growing increasingly agitated. Since we were in our motel, no one was holding back. They didn't have to worry about who was going to drive. I'd hoped last Friday would be an anomaly, but it seemed like I needed to brace myself for a long six weeks.

"I'll be right back," I said out loud. I stepped outside and called Victor. It rang and rang and rang. I left him a half-assed voicemail telling him the concert went well and that I'd talk to him when he woke up. I groaned before I sat down on the curb outside the motel. The air was hot and muggy, even after midnight. Midnight. That's why he didn't answer. Victor, like a lot of people, would be sleeping right now.

It was probably a good thing he didn't answer, I reasoned. I needed to be able to get through this stuff on my own. He was my boyfriend, not my keeper. It had become too easy to lean on him.

I brought my hands up to my head and squeezed my eyes shut. I pictured Victor in front of me. I knew exactly what he would say if I could tell him. He would tell me that he was so proud of me and that he knew I would be okay because I was the strongest person he knew. That was what he always said. Then he'd offer to do something. Usually, we'd watch a movie together until my racing heart calmed down and I was able to confidently say that I wasn't in danger of drinking. I longed for that. I longed to curl up with him on the couch and pretend to watch a movie; I longed to spend an entire night debating what the best board game in existence was; I wished I could spend a night listening to Victor talk about basketball and his favorite players or what TV show he thought we should watch together next or trying to convince me that I should play my guitar on TikTok.

As I focused on him, I could feel my agitation ebbing. I was so close to being okay, so it made sense that the universe would send me another curveball. The very last thing I wanted was for Derek to sit down next to me.

"What's going on with you?" He asked.

"Nothing," I snapped.

He crossed his arms. That didn't take much. When we were still together, that was always a sure-fire sign that we were about to get into a big fight. That and the way that his face got red like his anger was physically manifesting itself in his cheeks. "Right. This seems like nothing."

"Just go back inside."

"You said you were going to try, but you've been a dick to me since we left," he said angrily.

"I haven't been a dick," I protested. I'd thought I'd been very cordial. I hadn't talked to Victor in front of him; I'd repressed the urge to completely avoid him; I'd managed through some awkward conversations. All in all, I thought I was doing well with this whole thing, especially considering that it was not my choice for him to be here.

"Yes, you have. I'm sure it's hard being away from the 'love of your life', but this isn't you trying."

"Why did you say it like that?" I challenged.

"Like what?" He asked.

"Like you don't think Victor's the love of my life."

"Do you think he is?" Derek asked skeptically.

I knew Victor didn't believe in it, but I did believe. He liked to think it was the work we put in that made us so strong, but I felt like it was so much more than that. We'd been through so much that should've broken us and, instead, made us stronger. I thought that meant something. I shrugged because I wasn't opening that can of worms with Derek. He made an annoyed sound.

"What? I thought you were okay with Victor."

"I am. I'm glad you're with someone you love, and I know you have something with him that we never could have had. Seeing you with him… it's a reminder that you threw away over a year of what we'd been through together like it meant nothing to you." He rubbed his arms as if he was cold and, in a rare moment of vulnerability, his voice dropped. "I was never in love with you, but I loved you. It felt like… you must not have felt the same way. I feel like I deserved better."

"I didn't throw it away, Derek. You were my first serious boyfriend. You always will be, and I'll always love you, but it's like you said; I never fell in love when I was with you." I sighed. He didn't need to hear about how I was falling in love with Victor even then. "You're right. You did deserve better. You deserved my honesty a long time before I gave it to you."

"It's hard for me to see you so happy with someone else and know that I never made you that happy. I know that we weren't good for each other, but… you have something that I'm still chasing. I guess I just never expected you to break up with me and immediately start dating someone that you were going to be with forever. It's almost annoying how much he loves you." Derek made a face. "When he called me, I thought I was finally going to get the chance to tell him how much he screwed up both of our lives." I sat up a little straighter. Victor hadn't told me much about his talk with Derek, and I hadn't asked. Now, I found myself hanging on to his every word. "He apologized to me. It was the first thing he did and then he went on this whole thing about how you needed to chase your dreams, and he didn't want me to have to give up my dream in the process. It's hard to hate someone that loves you that much but, at the same time, I want to hate him."

"Why?" I asked quietly.

"It felt like he stole you and got his happily ever after."

I glared at him. "He didn't steal me, Derek. He couldn't have because I didn't belong to you. Just like I don't belong to Victor. I made my own decision."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" I pressed.

"You were in a relationship and he took a shot with you anyway. And you don't regret that. He doesn't either. He told me if he could go back in time, he'd still do it because he wasn't sure if the two of you would have ended up together if he hadn't. Don't you see how shitty that is for me?"

I ducked my head. "I don't regret it," I agreed. I wasn't going to lie to him, and I couldn't bring myself to regret something that brought me so much happiness now. "But I do wish it hadn't hurt you."

He sighed. "That's not enough."

"Then what is?" I asked. "What do you want me to say? I won't apologize for choosing Victor and I've already apologized for hurting you. I'm not su-"

"You haven't, actually," he interrupted. "Apologized." I stared at him. I'd told him I was sorry so many times. "You gave me a half-assed one when you broke up with me and you've said you feel bad about it but that's not the same thing. This is what you do. After your accident…" I looked away from him. It was a low blow to bring that up. "You never once apologized for what you put me through."

"I spent months after my accident apologizing to you," I told him. He looked taken aback at the harsh tone of my voice. I guessed we were in entirely new territory right now. I never really fought back while we were together. It was one of the ways that Victor had changed me. I knew how to talk about the hard stuff if I needed to and, right then, I needed to because I couldn't fathom what he was talking about. Maybe he had a different idea of what constituted an apology.

"No, you didn't. You kept saying you felt guilty or bad or disgusted, but you never thought about what it did to us. Do you know how shitty it was to watch you get drunk like that? To know that you didn't care enough about us… about me to get sober. It was so hard to watch you like that, but I tried to deal with it because I wanted you to get better. I guess that should have been a sign that, even back then, I wasn't enough for you."

"Did you ever think that my drinking had nothing to do with you?" I asked quietly. I felt like I was practically shaking with anger. The months after my accident were the hardest of my life. It was a time I still struggled to talk about. Him throwing that back in my face like I was trying to hurt him was more than I could take right now.

Derek never had the chance to answer me because my phone started to ring. I saw Victor's face before I saw his name. I didn't know why he was awake at 1 am, but I'd never been so grateful for something in my life. "I have to take this."

I stood up and pointedly turned my back to Derek and took several steps away before I answered.

"Hey, handsome," Victor said the moment I answered. "How'd it go?" He frowned. "What's wrong?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?" I asked defensively.

"Because you're crying and you never cry over nothing," he pointed out.

I brought my hand up to my cheek. He was right. "These were angry tears."

"Who pissed you off?" Behind me, I heard a door slam shut.

"I'll give you two guesses."

"I thought things were okay between you guys."

"I thought so too." I sighed and looked behind me to make sure Derek left before I returned to my spot on the curb. "Turns out he was just hiding his hatred for me." Victor looked at me skeptically. "He thinks you stole me and that I'm a terrible person."

Victor brought his hands to his temple. "What did he say?"

I bit my lip before I told Victor about our conversation. I didn't tell him how hard it was to be around the drinking because this was the second time in a week that I'd struggled like this and I didn't want him to worry. Talking to him was already helping.

Victor's look only got more incredulous while I spoke. When I told him about what Derek said about my accident, he actually stood up. "That asshole," he exclaimed. He started pacing around his bedroom. "You know he's wrong."

"Is he?" I asked in a small voice. As I was recounting it, I'd started to doubt myself.

"Yes," he said firmly. "Benji, look at me." He was quiet until I met his gaze through my phone. "What you went through… it sucked, but he doesn't get to make it about him. It's not about anyone but you. You got to a really bad place partly because you didn't feel like you had the space to be yourself." He brought his hand to the back of his head. "You get to feel bad about what you did. I wish you'd forgive yourself, but I know that I can't force you to be ready for that, but I draw the line at letting you feel guilty because Derek wants to make your drinking about him. It wasn't about him. You weren't drinking to hurt him or your parents."

"But I did," I pointed out.

He closed his eyes. "What did you tell me about a hundred times after Mia broke up with me?" I ducked my head. "Say it," he pressed.

"I told you that you made a mistake, but you didn't mean to hurt her," I said after a moment.

"Exactly. And then you told me that I couldn't hold it over my head. I needed to forgive myself because the last thing I wanted was to hurt her."

"But this is different."

"Then tell me how," he said sharply. "Give me a handful of ways it's different and I'll back off." When it became obvious that I wasn't going to answer him (because I really couldn't), he said, "told ya so."

"Thanks," I said quietly.

"Don't thank me until you believe that. Then you can tell me how amazing I am and how lucky you are to be my boyfriend," he teased.

"I am pretty lucky," I told him.

He rolled his eyes. "Why are you outside anyway?"

"We were all hanging out in Tosh's room; it got a little crowded with everyone, and I wanted to call you."

"Yeah. Sorry about that. Lake and Pilar teamed up and decided they were over my quote-unquote moping, so they took me out tonight."

"Lake and Pilar?" I asked incredulously.

He nodded. "I think they like each other now that they're over the whole I'm-dating-your-ex thing."

I whistled. "I never thought I'd see the day. How'd it go?"

"It was fun," he reluctantly admitted. "It would have been better with you, but they've been pretty great since you left."

"Good. I'm glad they're keeping you busy." I'd honestly been worried because every time I called him, he was home or babysitting Adrian, and I knew he'd been working a lot. He was the interim Assistant Manager until he left for his basketball program; he took the position far more seriously than I ever had. Sarah hadn't wanted to replace me when I'd be back in six weeks, but she was probably rethinking that; I had a feeling he was genuinely doing a better job than I usually did; Sarah had texted me earlier today to tell me about how well his new trainees were doing when he'd only been training them for a couple of days. Maybe I'd be able to pitch the idea of two Assistant Managers. I just needed to figure out how to get that to happen without Victor and I having different schedules. I knew Victor was enjoying his temporary pay raise; he'd been saving up to buy a used car for a while and I knew he'd hoped to have enough before he started his senior year. Our trip to Vegas and Dollywood set him back a bit. "What did you do about Adrian?" His parents were in Texas, so they didn't watch him.

"He came with us. After he went to sleep, we hung out for a bit."

"That sounds nice."

"It was actually kind of funny. Adrian's going through a man-of-the-house phase where he's acting like a forty-year-old. He tried to tell me he was ready to shave earlier."

I couldn't help my laugh. "What did you say?"

"I told him no. Then I put all the razors in my bedroom and locked the door behind me. If he's anything like me, he won't listen and he'll end up with a bunch of cuts."

"I have so much trouble picturing you ignoring your parents."

"Really? Did that just come out of your mouth? Think of everything that happened this year," he pointed out.

I recognized that we were getting into dangerous territory, so I said, "fair enough." I grappled for a change of subject. "Speaking of beards. What do you think?"

"Of what?" he asked.

I brought my hand to my chin. "Of this."

He squinted at the camera. "Oh. You are a little stubbly," he acknowledged.

"A little stubbly?" I protested. "This is a full week's growth."

He bit his lip. "It's a very nice beard." He couldn't keep a straight face. "Why haven't you shaved?"

"I, uh, may have lost my razor."

"How?" Victor asked. "How is that possible? You drove straight to Miami except for a few stops for food."

"I don't know. I thought I packed it…"

"I packed it," he told me. "I put it in your small, black bag."

"It's not there. I looked everywhere. I have no idea where it could be."

"Why don't you buy a new one?"

"My dad special orders his razors," I admitted.

Victor looked incredulous for a second and it seemed like it took actual effort for him to rein himself in. He opened his mouth before he decided not to say whatever he was thinking. I knew he didn't understand it. He was raised in a household where they always shopped the sales and deals. They focused on affordability rather than quality. I… was not raised that way. It was one of the few traits I'd inherited from my dad. I was particular about some stuff.

I fully anticipated that this would be one of our bigger fights when we were older, and we moved in together. Instead of acknowledging that, he asked, "do you need me to stop by your house and get one before North Carolina?"

"I already asked my dad. He ordered some more, but it might be a couple of weeks before they come in."

"Maybe you'll look good with a beard."

"You might like it too," I pointed out.

"We can test that theory now if you'd like. If everyone's in Tosh's room, that means your room is open, right?"

I eyed him. "Maybe."

He leaned in closer to his phone. "I mean, you don't have to say yes," he started.

"I'm not gonna say no, but are you sure?"

"I want to try it," he said seriously. "I know you said it was a disaster the one time you tried it with that kid after he went home… the one that had been in Atlanta visiting his mom…" he frowned. "Peter, was it?"

"Patrick," I corrected.

"Yeah. Him. But just because it was a disaster with him, doesn't mean it will be a disaster with us and we have a lot of time to practice," he pointed out. "If it's not great this time, we can work on it. I can get better at dirty talk."

I snickered. I would pay money to see Victor be good at dirty talk. I just couldn't picture it. He wasn't particularly vocal when we were having sex… or maybe he was vocal, but not in a wordy way. He wasn't innocent by any means, but I didn't think he was ever composed enough to string letters into words. "Try me."

He looked surprised as if he hadn't expected me to agree so quickly. He frowned. "What are you wearing?"

I couldn't help my laugh. "Really?"

"You think you can do better?" he challenged. "This is kind of awkward. I've never done anything like this before."

I bit my lip. "Do you want me to start?"

"I want you to go back to your room and then yes. I'd like you to start."

I stood up and walked towards my room. "I'm gonna do the chain lock just to be safe. I don't think Stevie will be back anytime soon, but I don't want to take any chances." Nothing would kill the mood more than someone walking in on us.

"Good idea."

"Lights on or off?" I asked.

He frowned. "What do you think?"

I contemplated for a moment before I turned them off. You can still see me, right?"

"Yeah, but you're not going to be holding your phone, are you?"

"True, true." After a little bit of thought, I turned the bathroom light on and propped the door. "Better?"

"Better," he confirmed. He put his phone down and my guess was that he had it propped on top of his desk somehow. "Does that work? I read that some people only show from their chest up and let their partner use their imagination, but I thought this might be better. Unless that's not what you want?"

"It's fine," I assured him. I knew he thought I had a lot of experience with this, but I didn't. I'd attempted it with Patrick two or three times before school started and we essentially never talked to each other or saw each other again. He probably knew more than I did if he'd looked it up. I shouldn't be surprised. "What do you want?"

"For our first time? I think I'd like to see you."

"Okay." It took a little finagling because the dresser was across from Stevie's bed and I definitely couldn't use his bed. Eventually, I found something to help prop it on the far end of the end table and I was mostly on the camera.

He looked at me before he laughed. "What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he assured me. "I'm just thinking about how weird it's gonna be to tell you to take off your shirt instead of just taking it off myself."

I pulled it off and threw it somewhere behind me. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Your turn."

He pulled off his shirt without hesitation. "I want to take our time," he said quietly. "From what I've read, we want to treat it like a marathon, not a sprint."

"If you want this to work, I need you to stop telling me about the stuff you Googled. Let us figure out what works," I suggested. "Tell me what you do if you were in my room right now."

Before he had a chance to say anything, there was a loud crash. It was so loud, I thought it came from somewhere around me until I heard, "Victor!"

Victor quickly put on his shirt. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," I said quickly.

"Victor!"

"Go," I urged.

He hesitated a moment. "Don't hang up."

"I'm right here. Promise." It was the last thing I said before I got a close-up of his palm as he ran from his room.