say, because suddenly cold night air sounds incredible.
“What’s wrong?” She locks the doors and follows me out to where our bikes are parked.
“Nothing.”
“Yeah, that’s not even remotely convincing.”
“Is it weird that I like boys?” I ask, my breath coming out like fog in the night air.
“Well, I’m a lesbian. So yeah, I think it’s weird anyone likes boys.” She chuckles. “But like, in general, no, it’s not weird that you like boys. Why?”
“Liking a guy doesn’t make me straight.”
“I know it doesn’t.” She looks legitimately horrified as we get on our bikes and start to pedal home. “I don’t care that you like boys. I just wish you had better taste in them.”
“No, I know. I think I just needed to say that out loud.” I take a deep breath. “Who I date doesn’t change who I am.”
“Right, and if anyone says different, they’re going to have to deal with me. Personally. And I’ve been working out.” She lets go of her handlebars and flexes her biceps.
I laugh. “Thank you for being so cool, even though I’ve sucked lately.”
“It’s my job as your best friend to both point out when you suck and tolerate a small amount of it, so you’re good,” she says. “But if I’m playing the supportive best friend role, then level with me—which of these two sad disasters you call crushes would you actually pick if you had to?”
“I have no idea,” I say, shaking my head. “I feel this pull toward Bats, but he’s on the other side of the country . . .”
“If Bats wanted you guys to date, like, hypothetically, if he wanted to be exclusive or whatever, would you do it?”
“I have no clue, because there’s Ridley! And Ridley is right here, and also awesome.”
Jayla laughs, pedaling faster. “So then what if Ridley asked you to stop talking to Bats? Would you be able to?”
“I really don’t know.” I spin the pedals backward and stare up at the moon. I wonder what Bats and Ridley are doing right now. I wonder if they’re thinking of me. If they’re wishing we could talk.
I wonder, if they had to choose, would they choose me?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BATS: Hey, what are you up to?
PEAK: Lying on my bedroom floor having an existential crisis.
BATS: Uh . . . I think that’s my line?
PEAK: Is there some kind of existential crisis timeshare we were supposed to negotiate ahead of time?
BATS: Yes.
PEAK: I’m listening.
BATS: Wednesdays are reserved for my angst only, so.
PEAK: LOL
BATS: Oh good, you’re laughing. Now I don’t have to sue you for infringing on my official angst day.
PEAK: What days do I get?
BATS: 1am to 5am on Sundays, 3:30pm to 5pm on Tuesdays, Thursdays from 6am to 7am.
PEAK: Those are all times I’m sleeping . . . except for Tuesday, which is when I have a lesson?
BATS: Yeah, that was the whole plan. Sleep through your suffering or channel it into music.
PEAK: Why don’t you do that?
BATS: Because I have no self-control and am needy as shit. And yet for some reason you like talking to me.
PEAK: Stoooooop. You’re not needy.
BATS: . . . Have you met me?
PEAK: Once for a second, but I was distracted. You were v cute and nervous, and I didn’t hate that.
BATS: I was trying for manly and strong, but.
PEAK: Have you met you?
BATS: Once for a second, but I was very nervous.
PEAK:
BATS: Did you want to talk about it?
PEAK: ?
BATS: Whatever’s got you lying on the floor creeping on my angst allotment.
PEAK: Yeah, but I don’t think you would understand.
BATS: I’ll try not to take that