Double update??? What????

Things just kind of soared from there.

     The concert was awesome. Brendon Urie's vocal range had me shitting my pants, and experiencing it with a group of people who'd so quickly become my friends was out of this world.

     The next thing I knew, I was being added to group chats and invited to dinners. One evening, Eric came over and we spent hours playing video games and annoying my sister, laughing like two boys who'd been friends a whole lot longer than a week. It really was a struggle to fathom the fact that I'd so quickly fit into a group of people so different from myself.

      I hadn't even realized until now that Lilliana Rogue was in my Computer Sciences class. Next thing I knew, I had someone new to walk with and talk with and joke with in the hallways. The issue of her rather obvious little crush on me still existed, but it wasn't bad enough to take away from how much I liked her as a person. She had a thing for me, sure, but she was still nice and funny and cheerful and clever, and she never pushed things too far.

      My other friends caught on to my relationship with her pretty quickly. They started making kissy faces and really annoying comments, like "Nate's pulling weird chicks now, huh?" and "That girl's got so many daddy issues, I bet she's a total freak in bed."

      "Dude," I said to Trevor, my nose scrunched up in disgust. "Shut up."

       Trevor rolled his eyes. "You know, you're no fun anymore, Jean."

"Hey," Lilly said one day as we left the computer lab. "So prom is this weekend."

      I may have choked a bit. If this was going where I thought it was going, I needed to devise an abort mission fast. "Er, yeah, it is."

"I'm not actually going," she said, and I had to hold back a sigh of relief. "And neither are the others. We were kinda just gonna dip on the dance, get dressed up, and go to one of our houses, maybe booze a bit, you know?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. It made sense that Lucas would avoid the event, but I didn't understand why the rest of them would. "Why aren't you all going?"

Lilliana shrugged. "It wouldn't be any fun. I'd been planning to go, but I sold my ticket a few weeks ago. People like us don't fit in at occasions like prom. We'll have way more fun getting drunk and acting like idiots than we ever would watching Shawn get crowned prom queen."

I thought on her words for a moment, pausing for a brief second to look at her quizzically. For the first time since I'd begun hanging out with them, it registered in my head that Lucas wasn't the only person in his friend circle with a bad label to his name. As a matter of fact, all of them had something that set them apart from the students of Listrougth High. They were each different in their own way, and here in Nowhere, Nebraska, different was never a good thing.

For Halima, the difference was the most obvious. She was half Pakistani and a devout Muslim in a heavily Catholic, shamelessly racist place.

When Teresa Lois married Aziz Khan, who was at the time a stranger to the community, she'd met quite the backlash. The young couple had chosen to live here due to Teresa's demanding job, and had eventually grown rather respected, but that didn't stop odd stares and comments from bigots who believed that Mr. Khan didn't belong in this country, let alone this town.

Halima definitely received a portion of the heat. With her head always wrapped in a hijab, it was hard to mistake her for what the residents here considered normal.

Eric was a different case, though not entirely. His parents had moved here from Washington when his older brother, Renaldo, was only a baby. He didn't quite have it to the same extent as the Khans, but there was no hiding the fact that he couldn't go many places without hearing a sideways comment about his parents being illegal immigrants—which they weren't—and stealing the "rightful" jobs of American born-and-raised citizens. The irony of it all was that they'd been born in D.C., and were just as American born-and-raised as the rest of us.

Nobody seemed to recognize that, though. The Suarez family had tanned skin, spoke fluent Spanish, and were of Mexican decent, and apparently that was enough to deem them as a problem. The bigoted, painfully ignorant people of this town loved to blame the Mexican race for every economic issue America encountered. As a part of that race, similar blame fell upon the Suarez's.

God, I hate this place.

Saeyoung's family had immigrated here from South Korea when she was no more than a distant thought. They ran a successful business and were very involved in the community, so they were respected and appreciated among the adults of the town. The youths, however, were much less accepting and far from mature, and so it wasn't rare that I heard an offhand joke about the shape of Sae's eyes, or the accent her parents spoke with when they spoke.

Lilliana, you'd assume would have no problems. After all, she was the most like me; that is, rich, white, straight—actually straight, unlike myself—and Catholic. Her problems, however, extended beyond such matters.

Her father was a powerful, awful man. It was no secret that Lilly had been born as a product of an affair he'd had with a housekeeper, right under his wife's eye. The poor housekeeper had been fired and blamed for being a whore, while he took custody of their child and continued his life sat perched on a pedestal. His wife bore more-or-less all of the responsibility to take care of Lilly, and everyone knew she absolutely hated her; rumor even had it that she'd hit her once. He, on the other hand, merely acted as if his daughter didn't exist. He had been caught several more times cheating on his wife, and everybody knew it, and yet the two were still together.

Now, Lilly was labeled as the freaky girl with daddy issues. If she wasn't being blamed for her family's disfunctionality, she was being made fun of for it.

I felt stupid not having thought of it before. Everybody knew that Halima, Eric, Sae, and Lilly didn't quite fit in. It was just a fact—something you grew so used to that it was easy to forget. It was never on my conscious mind, and so I hadn't processed that the entirety of their friend group bordered on outcast until now.

"Oh," I said, feeling guilty for asking. "Shit."

Pursing her lips, Lilly nodded. "Yeah," she said, a little awkwardly. "Anyways, the point I'm getting at is that you should skip the dance and hang with us."

That sounded like as much fun as it did trouble. What would the guys say if I dipped on the biggest event of the school year?

"I . . . I already have my suit," I said, which was true.

"Yeah, and I already have my dress," Lilly remarked. "And I'm sure as hell still wearing it, because that shit was way too expensive to put to waste. Whatever you're thinking, don't—you're coming."

I chuckled and gave in, nodding and saying, "There's no denying you, right?" I could have put up a better argument, but quite frankly, I didn't want to. Getting hammered with my real friends sounded exponentially better than going to a stuffed up, overrated dance with the people who made me want to stab my eyes out with a Christmas tree ornament.

Lilly grinned. "Nope. And while we're on that matter, I'm going to the park after school today. You're coming with me then, too."

Before I could formulate any sort of response, whether it be agreement or protest, she disappeared into her Calculus classroom.

     Well shit.

      I texted Lucas for advice on what to do. Instead of being even mildly helpful, he laughed at the situation and then continued to provide no advice whatsoever. When I got a text from Lilly near the end of the school day telling me to meet her at the park at three, I mentally cursed.

      "I don't know what to do," I whined as Lucas and I clambered into my car once school was out. "Lucas, she's so into me."

      Lucas gave me an exasperated look. "Really, Nate, it's not that hard. Just tell her you're not interested." Then, for added emphasis, he said, "Gasp! What a wild idea! Who'd have ever thought of that?"

      I poked my tongue out at him childishly. "It's not that easy. I don't wanna, you know, hurt her feelings or anything. What if this ruins our friendship? We barely have a friendship to begin with!"

      My boyfriend rolled his eyes in response. "First of all, calm yourself—the speed limit is 45." I hadn't even realized it, but with all of this girl-stress, I'd been driving at 65. Given that Sheriff Patberry has once ticketed Cameron for driving 49 down this same road, I intelligently lowered my speed. "Second, Lilly's not fragile, and she's not petty like that. She can take it. You're just too big of a baby to dish it."

I hated it when he was right.

In all fairness, the park wasn't all too bad.

Lilly and I simply walked around for some time, appreciating the scenery and talking about whatever came to our minds. At one point, we found a playground, and spent way longer than eighteen year-olds should have going down slides and pushing each other on swings. She got hungry after a while, so I bought her some chips and a coke from a vending machine and we settled together at the edge of the dock, peering out onto the lake.

I hadn't even realized how long we'd spent out here until the sun started setting. With all the fun I'd been having, the time really flew. So far, she'd kept her distance, walking a few feet away and not being too touchy or flirty. It was just like hanging out with Halima, of Eric, or Sae.

Now that we were alone on the dock, though, I was constantly aware of her shoulder brushing my arm, her knee bumping against mine.

She was a lot of fun to be around. And, despite her unfortunate history, she had a lot going for her. I'd seen her in Heather's; she could sing like nobody's business. She was a smart girl, with a shining GPA and an enviable list of extra-curriculars—including, to my surprise, a position as captain of the girl's volleyball team.

Not to mention, she was crazy pretty. Her hair was a sort of copper color, not quite brown but not quite red, and fell down her back in smooth waves. Her eyes were big and brown, framed by long eyelashes; her lips were naturally pink and full; and her bone structure was soft and delicate.

I said something that made her giggle, and she leaned her head onto my shoulder as she laughed. A few months ago, I would have looked at a girl like Lilliana and thought I wish. It wasn't a wish to have her—I could do that if I wanted—but a wish to at least want her. I'd have given anything to be attracted to her, to kiss her and feel something like fireworks.

Now, though, I couldn't even begin to want that. I didn't need to want a girl to be happy. I didn't need to want anyone to be happy, because I had everything. Sure, life was still a bit shit. But life included Lucas now, and he filled my cup until it overflowed.

Just thinking that made me want to pinch myself, because I couldn't quite believe how far I'd come since the beginning of the school year. I, Nathaniel Jean, was completely and totally gay, and that was fucking awesome.

I scooted away, just slightly, forcing Lilly to lift her head. "Listen, Lilly," I said, filled with a new sense of confidence. "You're super great, and I'm really happy to be your friend. But can we just, you know, leave it there? At friends?"

Lilliana blinked, her eyes wide and surprise. A pink blush flooded her cheeks, and she looked away in what could have only been embarrassment. "Oh, yeah. Sorry, I thought—"

I shook my head, cutting her off. "It's totally okay. And I don't want things to change between us, because I really do like you. I'm just not . . . available to like you that way."

Lilly was silent for a moment. She bit her lip, and I could feel the awkward tension in the air. Then she nodded, seemingly more to herself than me, and turned to face me. Thankfully, she was smiling. "Alright," she said, clasping her hands together. "Well thanks for telling me before it became anything serious. That would've been way more awkward."

Then her eyes darted past me, over my shoulder, and she let out a loud laugh. "Don't look now," she said, "but there are two squirrels getting busy in the grass over there."

Naturally, I looked, and quickly found myself half-laughing, half-choking at the sight of a squirrel shamelessly humping his lover—do squirrels have lovers?—only a few feet left of the dock.

And just like that, the tension was gone, because posting pictures of the squirrels on Snapchat was way more important than post-rejection awkwardness.

Saturday rolled around pretty quickly. Somehow, I ended up being the one who's home would host our prom-night endeavors. I'd had to bribe Jenna with money to get her to leave the house for the night—figures that the one night she wasn't sleeping over at at Emma Lee's happened to be the night I needed her gone.

After buying all of the unhealthiest snacks at the store, raiding my parents' liquor cabinet, and spending fifteen minutes trying to figure out how to tie a bow tie, I figured I was just about ready for the night ahead.

Halima was the first to arrive, just after 7. She looked stunning, in a deep burgundy long-sleeved dress and matching hijab.

"Hey babe!" She greeted, throwing her arms up in greeting. I laughed at her enthusiasm.

"Hello hello hello," I said, clasping my hands together. "You look beautiful."

She giggled, her hands moving to adjust her sleeves self-consciously. "And you look dashing, Mr. Jean. Now, where's the—"

"Boooooze!"

Halima turned around just in time to jump out of the way as Eric barreled through the door, tackling me in a brief hug before apparently spotting the vodka on the coffee table and abandoning me with a whoop of excitement.

Halima rolled her eyes. "I love Eric," she said softly, "But he likes to go hard. Just a fair warning."

     With that, she patted me on the chest and stepped past me into the house, joining Eric in the living room.

       Sae, Lilly, and Lucas trickled in over the next several minutes. Everybody looked their prom-best—the boys were in suits and ties, the girls had done their hair and makeup and worn the overpriced prom dresses they'd bought for the occasion. We got some music playing and lounged around, talking and joking and generally having a good time. For a while, things stayed like that—fun, but nothing crazy.

     As the time passed, however, and the alcohol started to settle into our systems, our voices grew louder and our movements became sloppier. Our words became more vulgar, our jokes dirtier, our hands touchier.

     It wasn't too long before we were talking absolute nonsense, cursing for no reason and not even knowing what we were saying but saying it anyways. By ten o'clock, we were a hot, collective mess.

     The bottle of vodka I'd brought out was already empty—mostly thanks to Eric, who was probably going to drink himself to death tonight—and shot glasses lined the couches and the floor.

     "Nate!" Lucas called, clumsily standing from his spot on the sofa. As he did, his foot crushed an empty beer can on the floor. "We need s'more . . . some more hard shit. Where is it?"

     "I'll show you," I said, half because I desperately wanted to sneak off alone with him for a minute, half because I was fairly certain he wouldn't be able to follow simple directions in his current state. "Kitchen."

     I tripped after him into the other room. The moment we were alone, before I could even look at the liquor cabinet, Lucas turned to face me, his hands gently gripping the lapels of my jacket.

     "You in this suit," he muttered, his voice low. I placed my hands on his hips as his own moved over my chest to play with the corners of by bow tie. "Just might be the death of me."

      He pressed his body against mine, leaving absolutely no space between us, and used his grip on my tie to pull my head toward his.

     Our lips had hardly touched when Eric's impatient, slurred, and impossibly loud voice yelled from the living room, "Where those drinks at?"

      Lucas chuckled, leaning forward to give me the kiss I craved before pulling back all-too-soon. Unsatisfied, I followed his lips, capturing them once again for a hot, blissful moment.

     When Lucas pulled back the second time, I let him. He gave me a brief, final once-over before he turned and strode over to the correct cabinet—he'd known where it was all along—coming back with a bottle of vodka in one hand and a bottle of brandy in another.

     My eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You tryna kill us, Morgan?"

      A sly, far-from-innocent smile spread across his face as he shoved the brandy into my chest. "Drink up, baby."

    "Yes, sir," I said, grinning like the drunken idiot I was.

"Hey!" Sae exclaimed out of nowhere. It was well past midnight, and we'd decided to take a break from the drinks and drink water for a while so that we could sober up a little and, of course, get drunk all over again. "Lucas!"

"Lucas?" Said Lucas, who was sprawled out on the floor with his head in Lilliana's lap.

Sae giggled. "You and Eric should show us the dance you've been working on."

Lucas groaned. "Noooooo, Sae. Gotta do that shit sober."

Eric—who it was safe to stay was still just as drunk as he'd been an hour ago despite chugging three water bottles and pissing six times—stood up and walked over to where Lucas lay. "Come on, Lukey," he cooed. He accidentally stepped on Lucas' lap, causing the other boy to cough loudly and jump into a sitting position. "It'll be funnnnn."

Lucas groaned again, much louder this time. "But I don't wanna."

Eric grabbed Lucas' hands and forced him, with much resistance, to his feet. "C'mon, baby!" He whined, using his hold on Lucas to engage in a very clumsy, very dorky, very one-sided salsa. "We worked hard to master it, might 's well show't off!"

    Despite himself, Lucas laughed at Eric's antics, throwing his head back and joining in on the mess of a salsa. "Fine!" He gave in. "Les do it!"

      Eric whooped triumphantly and looked around for his phone. Unable to find it, his first instinct was apparently to get on his hands and knees and check under the couch.

     While Eric was acting like a confused search dog, Sae stumbled over to Lucas and commanded him to take his jacket off.

     "What . . ." Lucas trailed as she untucked his shirt and began undoing the buttons. "What're you doin?"

      Sae grinned devilishly. "What's the point of having a hot gay friend if I can't sexualize him?"

      From her spot on the couch playing GTA V with Halima, Lilly laughed. "Preach to the choir, sistaaaaa!"

      After loosening Lucas's necktie and leaving his white button-up completely opened, Sae was apparently satisfied with her work. Laughing, she turned to Eric and said, "Your phone is in your pocket, idiot."

     Eric felt at his pockets, then gasped and stood, whipping around to face Sae. "Woah. How'd y'know that? You got s'm X-ray vision we don' know about?"

     Halima snorted. "Headass," she muttered. Eric seemed to just remember why exactly he'd been looking for his phone in the first place, and with another dramatic gasp, he hurried over to the speaker we'd set up against the wall. After a full minute of useless fumbling, he figured out how to make the thing work, and a song that I certainly hadn't been expecting began to play.

     The song was Mi Gente, and it was something I'd figured Lucas had never so much as heard of. He didn't dwell very much on popular music—like the theater nerd he was, he'd rather listen to the Something Rotten soundtrack than a Drake album.

I was even more surprised when Lucas and Eric began dancing hip hop.

Hip hop. Lucas Morgan. Somehow, I'd never pictured the two together. The image that came to my head when I thought of Lucas dancing was him in suspenders playing a Newsie. I associated him with ballet, definitely not hip hop. It had never occurred to me that he could do both.

He was good at it, too. Obviously he was drunk, and his movements reflected it, but my equally-intoxicated eyes didn't see that. And despite all of his complaining, he was clearly enjoying himself. Letting loose. It was a good look on him. They were only half-dancing, really—most of their energy was going into laughing at themselves. The entire 'performance' was more of a joke than anything, and it was hilarious to watch.

He was definitely doing better than Eric, but given that the latter should have barely been able to stand in his state, I was pretty impressed. The pair, for how drunk they were, could dance. If I managed to remember tonight, I'd make them do it again, sober.

I wasn't sure what exactly got me. Maybe it was the fact that the muscles of Lucas' torso flexed with every move he made. Maybe it was the fact that, with his loose tie and his unbuttoned shirt, he looked really damn hot, or the fact that I could see his Calvin Klein waistband peeking out from underneath the hem of his pants.

Maybe it was the fact that I was drunk, and just about everything Lucas did was sexier when I was drunk, even when he wasn't doing it seriously.

Whatever the case, Lucas most certainly did not help my situation when he, maybe seeing that I was flustered, ran his tongue swiftly over his lower lip and winked.

I never thought I'd say this, but I 100% popped a boner watching my boyfriend dance.

The girls cheered, hooted, and whistled at their performance while I grabbed a cushion and used it to hide my crotch.

      Eric threw his head back in laughter when the dance ended. His laughter became Lucas', and Lucas' became Sae's. Pretty soon, we were all laughing like mad for literally no reason. Every time it seemed like we would calm down, one of us snorted and we were back to body-shaking hysterics.

     Lucas collapsed on the couch beside me, breathing heavily and grinning like a colossal dork. He turned to look at me, his lips twitching as he saw my less-than-subtle method of hiding my problem. "What'd you think of the dance?" He asked, like the asswipe he was.

      Deciding I might as well play into his antics, I smirked and said, "Hot."

       Somewhere else in the room, Eric spit out a mouthful of skittles. "Nathaniel Jean! That was a very homoerotic comment!" He practically shouted.

     "Not in my good Christian suburbs!" Halima shrieked, and we all laughed our asses off.

      "Is this the gay agenda?" Lilly asked through her giggles.

      With a snort, Lucas exclaimed, "Yes ma'am! Youuuu got me!"

       Then, taking just about everyone by surprise, Lucas climbed over onto my lap, one leg on either side of me. The only thing separating us was the cushion as his fingers fixed the collar of my shirt. "I'm here to corrupt you."

      I didn't even fight it. Grinning lazily, I said, "Corruption is lookin' pretty damn good right now."

      He scoffed, his hands moving to untie my bow tie. "I look like more of a fuckboy than you right now, and that's a problem," he said, continuing on to unbutton my white button-up and mess up my hair a little.

     When he seemed finished, I looked up at him with one eyebrow raised and asked, "Well? How'm I lookin' as a fuckboy?"

      Lucas rolled his eyes. "You say that as if you're not always a fuckboy."

     I made a face at him. "Fine, how do I always look?"

       He didn't hesitate before shamelessly saying, "Sexy. Duh."

       Maybe it was the alcohol still buzzing throughout my system, but I realized then that I genuinely didn't give a shit about anything in that moment. My gorgeous boyfriend was sat on my lap, and that was pretty much all I could focus on. Everything else around me seemed insignificant in comparison. I was drunk and happy and a little bit horny. Life was good. Who the fuck cared if we were being insanely gay and his friends were right there?

      So, I did the drunk-Nate thing to do. I kissed him.

     I wasn't too decent about it, either. The moment his lips responded to mine, I, to be blunt, shoved my tongue in his mouth. My hands gripped his hips, pulling him closer, and next thing I knew we were sloppily making out right then and there in front of everyone. Whoops.

       Lucas was the first to pull away. His cheeks were red with embarrassment, but he was grinning as he said, "Bold move, Jean."

     Yeah, it was. Very bold. And pretty stupid. But I just really, really didn't care.

      He looked over his shoulder and I followed his gaze, amused at the sight of three pairs of wide, confused eyes staring back at us, along with a very smug looking Sae.

      Halima was the first to recover. With a shrug, she said, "Cute," and turned back to her GTA mission.

      Eric grinned. "Is that what happens at these kinds of things?" He turned to Sae. "Can we make out next?"

      Sae made a gagging noise. "Yeah, that's gonna be a no."

      Lilliana was the only one still giving us any attention; the poor girl was gaping. "I thought . . . You said . . ."

      I opened my mouth to talk, but Lucas beat me to it. "I'm the relationship," he said, then giggled at himself. "That made no sense. I'm the boyfriend. From the relationship. Nate's relationship. That he's in. With me—the boyfriend."

      I blinked. "What?"

     Whatever Lucas had been trying to say, despite how little sense it made, seemed even more surprising to Lilliana. "Nate, you're—"

      "Gay," I chirped with a nod.

      "And when you said you were unavailable, you meant—"

     "Gay."

      "And when you guys said you've been friends since the beginning of the year—"

"Gayyyyy."

"And when you said you've been quiet about your friendship, it's because you're—"

      "Gay, gay, gay," I sing-songed. Lucas chuckled, leaning his head into the bend of my neck.

     "You're such an idiot," he murmured.

       Lilliana watched us for another second. Then she laughed and shrugged, right as Halima began yelling at her to "play the damn game". And that was it.

I really loved my friends.

      Everything continued as before after that, as if nothing had changed. In a a way, I guess nothing had. Lilliana and Halima played their game, cursing and screaming and hitting each other rather violently, while Eric and Sae talked animatedly about lighting and sound management like the theater techies they were. He flirted relentlessly with her, constantly tripping over both his words and his feet, not phased in the slightest when she brushed him off every time. I wasn't much better than he was; now that I had the freedom to do more-or-less whatever I wanted with Lucas and was under some crazy influence, I couldn't quite seem to turn it off. Halima made a comment at one point, describing my sudden change in demeanor as "aggressively gay," and honestly I'd never heard anything more accurate.

      As a group, we laughed and talked and ate and drank like the stupid teens we were, and it was awesome. Things seemed to be winding down eventually until, on his way to the bathroom, Eric looked through a window and realized I had a pool deck, and soon enough we were all running—stumbling—out of the house, bottles and cans in hand, all-the-while trying to simultaneously strip into our undergarments.

     Halima didn't take part, but she made it her role to sit at the edge of the pool and quietly judge our antics, sending an aggressive (and impressive) splash at anyone who got too close.

     It was fun as hell. We did just about everything you'd imagine a group of drunk teenagers would do when presented with a pool. We raced, we dove, we played stupid games, we slipped on the deck—Eric had to go inside to get Band-Aids on three different occasions—and we got a little bit too touchy-feely underwater.

     Or at least, Lucas and I did. We were too tipsy to think about the fact that we were being incredibly indecent in front of our poor friends. We couldn't help it, though—we were in the pool, drunk and wet and and nearly naked. The situation spelled hormone overload.

      It got so bad, the other four eventually kicked us out into the hot tub to at least put some distance between our 'fun' and theirs. The heat only made us worse, though, and it wasn't long before we ditched them altogether, stumbling out of the water hand-in-hand and yelling for them to stay away from the second floor.

       Needless to say, it was way better than prom.

I stumbled clumsily down the stairs the next afternoon, gripping my temples and groaning loudly as my brain throbbed painfully in my head. The others had all left last night—Eric's brother had driven them to his house to stay the night so my sister wouldn't come home the next morning, see a bunch of bottles and whining teenagers, and pull the "buy me something expensive or I'll tell mom and dad about what you did in their house last night" card—so I was left to suffer alone. I moved blindly, unwilling to put myself through the torture of opening my eyes and being attacked by the brightness of morning. Every footfall drummed deafeningly in my ears.

      To put it in simpler terms, I was hungover.

     It took a while, but I finally made it to the kitchen. I prepared—with some minor (major) struggling—my best hangover cure, and chugged the disgusting drink before I could process how absolutely repulsive it tasted.

      I settled as comfortably as I could into the couch and went on my phone—which didn't do much to help my headache, but I was at the point where I just gave up and accepted the fact that the after-effects of last night were gonna suck one way or another.

     In my camera roll were several pictures that I didn't remember taking. I didn't remember much at all, really—I knew we got really drunk, played GTA, and went in the pool, but that was about it. Aside from the quite vivid memory I had of what Lucas and I did after the pool.

     Oh, and I was fairly certain that my friends knew I was gay. Strangely enough, that gave me more satisfaction than it did reason to panic. It wasn't a problem that they knew. It was better that they knew. I was glad that they knew.

      The pictures made me laugh a bit. Most of them were silly, slightly-blurry selfies of the six of us being losers. In one of them, I was kissing Lucas while Eric, Lilly, Sae, and Halima all made obnoxious kissy faces in the background; that one made me smile a lot. I had one video of Halima trying to do a handstand and falling onto the coffee table, which I would forever treasure. There were too many embarrassing videos of Eric to describe, all of which I would use against him in the future.

      Then there were a few other pictures, taken when we were on the pool deck and my idiot friends stole my phone and took pictures of Lucas and I obliviously having a grand old time in the hot tub. I was tempted to delete them, but Eric's face in the corner making a collection of suggestive expressions in each one was really fucking funny, and I couldn't bring myself to destroy the memories.

I spent pretty much all day there on the couch. Every now and then I would go back to the pictures, just for something to smile about. With the help of painkillers and disgusting beverages, my hangover faded with time to a bearable throb. It was evening, bordering on night, when my I realized that my phone would die any moment now, leaving me to fight with unending boredom, so I figured I may as well get off my ass and charge it. Problem was, my charger was in my room.

It wasn't until I had forced myself up the stairs, entered my bedroom, and grabbed the cable of my charger that I realized I didn't even have my phone. I, like the true idiot I was, had left it downstairs and come all the way up here without it.

With a very loud, very exaggerated groan, I grabbed my charger and began the long trek back downstairs. The plan was simple—go down, plug in my phone, and relax.

That plan was interrupted, however, when I was met in the living room by the sight of my parents, my phone in my father's hands, staring down at the screen with shock and disgust written on their faces.