I didn’t have anything to say. It’d been a long time since I felt what he was feeling. That kind of pain at the thought of losing someone he loved with everything he had. And it wasn’t a show, Riley. It was just me and him—two guys talking out on the street—him pouring his heart out, and me, not able to give him whatever it was he was looking for. “College is a long time away, bro.”

He just shrugged. “Time means nothing when forever’s in play.”

Then he looked over at your house again and I could see the desperation in his eyes. “Maybe don’t show her.” I told him.

His gaze trailed back to mine. “What?”

“Don’t show her. Tell her. Everything you just told me, say it to her.”

He squared his shoulders and took a long, deep breath. “You think it’s enough?”

“It has to be, right?”

He nodded and sniffed once and for the first time since I’d been speaking to him, I saw the fear in his eyes. He was so afraid of losing you, Riley.

Then he smiled and shook his head. “Under love’s heavy burden do I sink,” he mumbled. And then he was gone. He marched right up to your house and pounded on the door. I turned around and went into the house, not wanting to witness your moment of love and (hopefully) clarity.

I sat in my room in the silence of my thoughts, having no fucking idea what I was doing with my life. But that kid on the street—he knew. He wanted you to be his life. His love.

And at least you get to have that, Riley. At least you get to walk away knowing his heart belonged to you and that he was so afraid of losing you, so desperate to show you your worth, that he bled his heart out to a stranger. He loved you, Ry. He loved you so damn much. And I was so jealous of him, not because he had you at the time, but because he was so passionate about you and love and life and the future you’d share, and I didn’t have any of that.

What I had wasn’t enough.

I wanted more than enough.

I enlisted the next day.

And I found something I was proud of, like he was proud of you.

Jeremy Walters—he changed both our lives.

I cover my mouth with my hand to stop the sobs from escaping. Each read seems to hurt more, but not the kind of hurt that has me reaching for the bottle. It’s the kind that lets me know I’m breathing and that I’m alive, and that eventually, it’ll be okay. I fold the note and place it on the bed next to me, then I reach into the jar and pick up the second letter, already smiling as I unfold it.

Riley,

I’m sorry for making you cry with the last letter. I hate seeing you cry. I hate even more knowing I caused it. But, I thought you should know about that night because I know for sure it’s not something you can write to him about. I wonder if he’ll be pissed that I told you about it. Looks like I’m breaking bro-codes all over the place when it comes to you.

Anyway, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I haven’t really had the chance to say it in person, so I thought I’d write it to you. And with any luck, take away some of that hurt I just caused (I’m sorry—again).

Okay.

Here goes.

I find it completely appalling that you seem to love bacon. It’s weird. You’re weird, Riley. I mean, out of all the food in all the world, you ask for bacon? It just doesn’t make sense. But, because I’m trying to get in your pants, here are some random facts about bacon:

1. International bacon day is September 3rd. I mean… what the hell? There’s an actual day to celebrate bacon!

2. Bacon cures hangovers. Okay… so maybe that explains why you love it so much.

3. There’s bacon-scented cologne. Jesus Christ, what has the world come to?

4. There’s a bust of Kevin Bacon… made of bacon. Is now an appropriate time to use WTF?

5. And last, but not least. You, Riley Hudson, are bacon me crazy.

* * *

Riley: You’re such a goof, Lance Corporal Banks.

Dylan: Jesus. You just mafe me hard…er. The thinga I’d like toxbe doing to you wgen you call me that in person…

Riley: omg…

Dylan: Also, if youcever kiss me like thaf in front ofxall my friends again…

Riley: …

Dylan: I won’t let youxleave so easily. I can’t fuxking focus on anythinf else now.

Riley: Because I’m bacon you crazy?

Dylan: :D :D :D !

“Riley!” Mom shouts. I quickly put the letters back in the jar and move just in time to hide it under my bed before she opens my bedroom door. “There’s someone at the door for you.”

I race past her, cutting her off, my heart already soaring at the thought of seeing Dylan.

Only it’s not Dylan.

It’s his friend Jake.

My footsteps slow, my mind does the opposite. “Hey Riley,” he says, eyeing Dylan’s house quickly before returning to me.

My heart races as I step outside, closing the door behind me. “Hi,” I whisper.

I know why he’s here.

I hate that he’s here.

He clears his throat and shoves his hands in his pockets, looking down his nose at me. “Are you going to tell him or should I?”

Dylan

Apparently the whole bucket and feathers mayhem wasn’t enough. While I was at the cages with the guys, the girls were here—in my house, and with the help of Eric and Dad, they managed to turn my bedroom into a My Little Pony shrine. I’m not just talking about a few figures in there. No. That would’ve been too easy. I’m talking at least a hundred of them. And glitter. Every-fucking-where. And pink and purple streamers stapled to my goddamn ceiling. It was the first thing I noticed when I walked in. Followed closely by the full-length wall decal. A silver, glittery unicorn. And if that wasn’t bad enough… the unicorn had Logan’s face, while Jake and Cameron rode it. I would’ve beaten their asses had I seen the room while they were all still here, but I didn’t come in here until now… an hour after they’d left.

“I think it suits you,” Dad says from behind me.

Eric laughs, his head popping up over Dad’s shoulder. “So worth it just for the look on your face.”

I slump down on the mattress and rub the back of neck, ideas of retaliation already coming to mind. “I’m going to fucking kill ’em.”

Dad joins in on Eric’s laughter. “Those boys ain’t right,” he says shaking his head. “Sleep well, Princess.” He closes the door after him and I let out a frustrated groan when I see the giant High School Musical poster taped to the back of the door. And more glitter.

I reach for my laptop and open it. Then pull all those fuckers’ names into a group message.

Dylan: You know the rules of mayhem, right?

Logan: Retaliation. Fight or die, brother.

Lucy: Every little girl wishes for a pony. You got eleventy-three of them. What’s the big deal?

Cam: LOL.

Jake: Just so we’re clear, I knew nothing about this.

Amanda: LIES!

Mikayla: LIES!

Logan: Jake supplied us with the glitter and High School Musical poster. He won’t say how he got it, though.

Jake: Shut up.

Mikayla: Jake stopped liking Zac Efron after 17 Again.

Jake: Wow, babe. There’s a bus. Just throw me under it.