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“Yeah, they are. I think we have a good sound together.”

“Me too,” Faise replied and bit his lower lip.

He always did that when he was working out a problem in his head.

“I think I’m ready to do this,” he stated.

“Ready for the band? We can practice, and maybe play a gig here or there, but we still have another year of high school?—”

“Not that.”

We sat down on the bench at the bus stop. No one else was around.

“I’m ready to finally admit that I’m queer too,” he whispered. “But I don’t want to tell my family. Not yet.”

“Okay,” I acknowledged. “I mean, thanks for telling me. But yeah, you do you. You don’t have to tell anyone.”

Faise glanced up at me with those earnest brown eyes. He was worrying his lower lip again and rubbing his hand over his jaw. Unlike me, Faise didn’t have pimples or facial hair. Just sharp cheekbones and wicked dimples.

“I was watching Brodie and Holloway in school, and they’re so fucking confident. I want to be like that,” he confessed.

I knew that Faise struggled with expressing himself and being social. But when he was in the music zone, he thrived. And I was sure that, given time, his confidence would follow.

“You’ll get there,” I replied. “It just takes some of us longer to grow out of our awkward teenage phase.”

Faise sighed. “How long is that?”

“I have no idea. Ask me again in a few years.”

CHAPTER 5

FAISE

AGE 18

Amonth ago, Ronin and I, along with Brodie, Holls, and the rest of our class, graduated from high school.

Now I was getting ready for my eighteenth birthday party. Well, two of them. The first, a formal dinner celebration with my family, and the second, a night out with my friends.

I threw on my blazer even though I hated formal wear. But my parents insisted. I wore jeans and a t-shirt underneath. The jacket would get tossed aside as soon as the family stuff was done.

But first, I had news to share.

I had to tell my parents tonight that A) I wasn’t planning on taking a year off to figure out where I wanted to go to college because I was never going, B) I’m heading out with my friends to gig across the country because we wanted to be rockstars, and C) I’m gay.

Truthfully, the first two scared the shit out of me. More than the third. But I was eighteen. That meant I could do whatever the hell I wanted.

They would tell me the rockstar thing was immature and irrational, but I didn’t care. This was what I wanted. Me and the guys had planned and practised. And we were good.

But instead of waiting until I got to the venue for our dinner, I wanted to tell my family now. Otherwise, I’d never be able to eat.

A knock at my bedroom door had me turning around.

“Hurry up, Faisel, we don’t want to keep your grandparents waiting,” my mom yelled out. “We’re already fifteen minutes late.”

I opened the door and she smiled at me. “Finally.”

“Where’s Dad?” I asked.

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