Felix Ever After

by Kacen Callender

  A new song starts to play, I don’t know by who, I’ve never heard it before, and Marisol screams and runs up, grabbing Ezra’s hands and dragging him back inside, Ezra grinning over his shoulder at us as he leaves me and Austin behind. I cringe. Austin lets out an awkward laugh.

  “Marisol’s cool, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah,” I lie.

  “You know, before I started hanging out with Ezra, I’d seen you and him and Marisol around St. Cat’s a bunch, and I always thought you guys are really cool and had smart stuff to say in class, and you’re all really talented, but the school is so cliquey, so I never felt like I could say hello or anything.”

  I feel a flinch of confusion, and maybe some guilt. “You were scared to say hello?”

  “Well, yeah,” he says. “I guess I was just a little intimidated. I mean, your paintings are like—whew, seriously, really freaking good, and I knew that I could never be that good, and you’re kind of a badass, you know? Like, you’re just yourself so unapologetically. And, I mean, I’ve had a crush on Ezra for, like, a whole year now. He’s really funny and . . . well, really attractive, like he could be a model or something. I’ve liked him for a while, but I didn’t know how to just walk up to him and start talking. And for a long time, I thought that he was going out with you.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Me?”

  “I mean, that’s not such a stretch, right? You hang out all the time.”

  “Yeah. Because we’re best friends.”

  Austin shrugs. “I just assumed you were going out, and then I found out that you weren’t going out, and I decided, you know what? I should just go for it. What do I have to lose, right? Besides my dignity.” He laughs. “So yeah, I went up to him and told him I liked him, and, well . . .” He trails off, face turning a bright red.

  Austin’s annoying as fuck, but my chest still gets a little warm. I can tell he really likes Ezra. And after all the bullshit with Declan—well, Ezra could use someone who wants to be with him. It makes me feel a little bad for immediately deciding I don’t like Austin.

  The song changes again. There’s a heavy bass that vibrates through the floors. “I’m happy for you,” I shout to him over the music. “For both of you.” And this time, I notice that there’s only a drop of envy when usually I’d be flooded by jealousy. I think that I can be really, truly happy for Ezra and Austin—because for the first time, I might know how good it feels to like someone and know they feel the same way.

  “Thanks,” he says. “God, I’m so nervous talking to you. I can tell your opinion really matters to Ezra, so I just really want you to like me. And, I mean, I hope you like me just because I think you’re cool and talented, too.”

  I smile a little, despite myself. “Don’t worry,” I tell him. “I’ll put in a good word.”

  This earns me a radiant grin. “I should find the others,” he says. “I owe Leah a drink. Coming?”

  I shake my head and watch as he heads back to the doors, disappearing into the crowd. I pull my phone out, leaning against the wall.

  Do you ever feel like you’re only ever watching? I ask Declan. Never really participating. Never really doing. Just always watching.

  But he doesn’t respond. I slide to the ground, looking through his Instagram, curious if he’s busy—maybe he’s hanging out with James and Marc, taking pictures of a bar they’ve managed to sneak into—but he hasn’t updated since yesterday. A shadow passes over me, and when I look up, Ezra is sliding down to sit beside me. He puts his head on my shoulder.

  “Why’re you over here by yourself?” he asks.

  “I don’t feel like dancing.”

  He glances up at me, his head still on my shoulder. “So? What do you think?”

  “About Austin?” I shrug. “He seems nice. He really, really likes you.”

  Ezra looks away. “You think so?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  My phone buzzes. Declan’s texted me back. Always watching? Like in that photo you posted?

  Yeah. I don’t know, I always feel like I can’t figure out how to just stop watching and actually join.

  Ezra groans, eyes closed. “I think I drank too much.”

  I glance at him. “You going to be okay?”

  Why do you think that is? Declan asks me.

  Ez shrugs. “I think so. I always have a desperate need to drink whenever I see my parents.”

  I don’t know. Maybe I’m just . . . too scared.

  Ezra rests his head back against the wall. “I was thinking more about what you said that night. You’re right, you know? They give me everything. I know I’m lucky. Beyond lucky. I’m privileged as fuck.”

  I bite the corner of my lip and look away. I still can’t help but be jealous of Ezra’s parents, his family’s wealth. Does that make me a bad person? A shitty friend?

  “You’re right,” Ezra says again. “It’s stupid to complain.”

  A part of me—the ugly, jealous side—wants to agree. But . . . “Just because they give you material shit, doesn’t mean they . . . you know . . .”

  “Are good parents?”

  “I didn’t want to say it that way.”

  I understand being scared, Declan tells me. I’m scared all of the time.

  “They’re not,” Ezra says. “Good parents, I mean.”

  I frown a little. What’re you afraid of?

  Everything. I’m scared I’m not living my life to my full potential. I’m scared I’m wasting my life when I’m meant to be doing something else, something more . . .

  Ez sighs, putting a hand through his hair as he leans against me. “I always felt like they left me in a castle and then abandoned me. Or like I was a toy Pomeranian that they didn’t actually want to take care of but were happy to take pictures of and show off. Well, that’s what they used to do, anyway, when I was a cute little kid. Now, moody teenager isn’t exactly gala-worthy. Sometimes I don’t think they even want me there, but they’re afraid it’d look bad if I didn’t show up.”

  “I think I get what you mean.” The situation isn’t exactly the same, but I know what it feels like to be abandoned by a parent.

  “But there comes a point when it’s up to me to just stop complaining and take control, right? So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m not sure what I want to do yet, but—you know, you were right. I’m going to try to figure out a plan, a goal, so that I can do what I want with my life and get the hell away from them.”

  I feel the surprise light up my eyes. I can’t help but smile. “That’s really great, Ez. That’s—I mean, seriously, that’s really freaking great.”

  He laughs a little, so low it’s more of a rumble vibrating from his skin into mine. “Thanks to you.”

  “Not just me. You figured it out for yourself, too.”

  My phone buzzes, and I read Declan’s message. I think that if I let myself get too afraid, I just won’t do anything, and I won’t be living anyway.

  I swallow. That’s true. I just don’t know how to break out of that fear.

  Maybe it’s not something you should think about. Maybe you should just do it, whatever it is you’re too afraid to try. Just do it. Just say yes.

  Ezra frowns at my phone. “Who’re you texting?”

  I hesitate. I don’t want him to know I’m still talking with Declan. I have no reason to mess with him, and I’d have to come up with some explanation—make up a lie—so I wouldn’t have to admit that I think I might actually be starting to like him . . . and that he said he’s falling for me. “It’s no one.”

  Ezra scratches his cheek, not looking at me. “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, you know? But you don’t have to lie about it.”

  “I’m not lying,” I say. He doesn’t answer. “All right. Fine. I don’t want to tell you.”

  Even though he said it was fine not to tell him, he bites down on his jaw now, straightening up a bit. There aren’t many things I don’t tell Ezra, and I can tell t
hat he’s hurt.

  “Is it someone you like?” he asks.

  “Why would you ask that?”

  “Why else wouldn’t you want to tell me who you’re texting?”

  I hesitate, playing with my phone, twirling it around in my hand. “It’s Declan.”

  His head whips to me. “What? You’re still texting Declan?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you still planning to—?”

  “No, no, I’m not going to do that anymore.”

  “Then why’re you still speaking to him?”

  I shrug a little. “I don’t know. I just got used to talking to him, I guess.”

  “But he’s—Declan. Fucking Declan Keane.”

  “I know. It’s just . . .” I bite my lip a little. “You said it yourself. We don’t know the whole story. And Declan—I don’t know, he can still be an asshole, but he can be cool sometimes, too.”

  Ezra’s mouth, which had been hanging open, snaps shut. Fuck. It was a crappy thing to say, I know—telling Ezra that his ex-boyfriend, who’s treated us like shit, is cool sometimes, too.

  “I mean—not cool, just . . .”

  “All right,” he says. “Okay. I get it.”

  I rub the back of my neck. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Before Ezra can respond, Marisol rushes at us out of nowhere, grin on her face, Austin and Leah trailing behind. Leah’s all kinds of drunk. She immediately sits down beside me and puts her head on my shoulder. “Hello, my wonderful friend.”

  “We’re going to Coney Island to watch the sunrise,” Marisol yells at us. “Do you want to come?”

  I glance at Ezra. He ignores me, forcing on a smile for Mari. “Fuck yeah. When’re you leaving?”

  “Like, right now,” she says.

  Austin grins at me. “Felix? Are you coming?”

  I let out a sigh and hold my phone up again. Declan’s message glows at me from my phone’s screen.

  Just do it. Just say yes.

  Fifteen

  IT’S A LONG-ASS TRIP TO CONEY ISLAND. THERE ARE FIVE OF us: me, Ezra, Marisol, Austin, and Leah, who I learn actually turns out to be Austin’s second cousin. We occupy a corner of the icy train, Ezra, Marisol, and Austin singing a song from Rent at the top of their lungs, Ezra pirouetting around and around, Leah and I laughing. When we get off at our stop, Coney Island is more crowded than I’d expect for five in the morning. The boardwalk, wood swollen with salt and sand, has a group of drunken men laughing and stumbling, a couple standing by the railing and kissing so softly it makes my heart ache, an older woman walking her dog. We jump the railing and land in the cold sand, sneakers off and in our hands. Ezra, Mari, and Austin go screaming, running for the water. Leah shakes her head at them.

  “It kind of feels like they were all made for each other,” she says.

  My stomach twists a little. I was never jealous when I was the third wheel with Declan and Ezra—that’s just the way our friendship worked out, before Declan broke up with Ez. But if Ezra becomes Austin’s boyfriend, would our friendship change and evolve the way friendships always seem to? What if Ezra and I aren’t as close anymore?

  We all sit down on the cold sand together, near the edge of the gray water. Leah leans into me. “By the way,” she whispers, “I checked out James’s phone. The only messages he’s been sending on Instagram have been to Kendall Jenner.” She looks like she’s fighting off a laugh. “I think he’s hoping she’ll fall in love with him over DMs.”

  There’s a twinge of disappointment. I shouldn’t be surprised. It isn’t going to be easy to find the bastard behind the gallery, the troll sending me their messages, I already know that.

  “Don’t worry,” Leah tells me. “I’m checking out Marc’s phone now. But if it isn’t him,” she says, “do you have any other idea of who it could be?”

  I hesitate. “No. I’m not sure.”

  She must see the disappointment on my face. “That’s okay,” she says. “That’s all right. We’ll find the piece of shit who did it. Okay?”

  I nod a little. God, why was I always so dismissive of Leah? “Okay. Thanks. Really. This means a lot.”

  She snuggles into my side, head resting on my shoulder. Austin and Ezra start to kiss. Ezra wouldn’t look at me for the entire train ride, even while everyone was laughing and singing—I really underestimated how pissed he would be to find out that I’m still talking with Declan—but he glances up now as Austin kisses him, and he doesn’t look away. My face gets hot and I stare down at my hands.

  “Yessssss,” Mari says, lying back in the sand, sunglasses on even though the sky is a dark blue, the sun still a ways off from actually rising. “Yes, this is exactly what I fucking needed.”

  Austin laughs against Ezra’s neck. Leah turns her face away against the icy wind coming off the sea to light a blunt, red curls flying everywhere. She takes in a deep breath and hands it to me, her cheeks pink in the cold. “Aren’t they so cute?” she asks me.

  “Yeah,” I say, taking the weed and sucking on it so hard that my throat burns and I start to cough. Leah smacks my back and takes the blunt from me, passing it on to Marisol.

  “God, I need to get laid,” Marisol says.

  “I volunteer as tribute,” Leah says without missing a beat.

  Marisol passes the weed to Ezra, releases a cloud of smoke. “Been there, done that.”

  Leah groans and rolls over onto her stomach, playing with the sand. “Have you had sex with everyone here?”

  Marisol glances around. “Not everyone,” she says. “I haven’t had sex with Austin. Or Felix.”

  Wait, wait. “Hold up. You’ve had sex with Ezra?”

  Ezra’s on his back. He scrunches his eyebrows as he passes the weed to Austin. “What’s your definition of sex?”

  “We messed around one drunken night, as one does,” Marisol says, waving her hand around. “This was before I decided I’ll only be dating girls from now on. Obviously.”

  “It wasn’t a big deal,” Ezra says. “We really just made out with some—uh—touching. And I regretted it instantly.”

  “Same.” Marisol has the nerve to smirk at me. “Don’t you wish you’d had some fun with me before we broke up?”

  Austin leans into Ezra to whisper something, and Ez laughs. Jealousy flourishes in my gut.

  Leah won’t stop smiling at me. “Hey, Felix,” she says, “when did you know you were—you know?”

  I know what she means, but I’m in a dicky mood now because of Marisol treating me like trash, like she always does, laughing at the crush I’d had as if I’m just a joke to her.

  I stare at the gray, steely water pushing up onto the sand. “When did I know what?”

  Leah hesitates, like she isn’t sure if it’s an okay question to ask—and honestly, I’m not sure if it is. Some people might not mind being asked, I guess, but it’s not like Leah and I are so close that she’d know whether it’s okay to ask me; and sure, I guess Austin probably already knew—but what if he didn’t? Leah would’ve just outed me.

  “When did you know that you were—uh—a guy?” Leah asks, trying again—and, shit, I can tell she’s at least trying. Even if she’s isn’t perfect, she isn’t the bad guy here.

  “I figured it out pretty late,” I say, ignoring the tightening in my chest. It’s hard to ignore the question if I’ve actually figured myself out yet or not. “Late in comparison to all the stories I hear of people figuring out their gender identity when they were still in the womb, anyway.”

  That gets a few laughs.

  “I think it’s really brave of you,” Leah says.

  “I mean, I guess? I’m just being myself. There’s nothing brave about that.”

  Austin’s nodding. “My family friend didn’t realize she was a woman until she was an adult. She just came out a couple years ago. She always makes this point of sitting me down and telling me how lucky I am to be a teenager now, without any prejudice to deal with, like she did when she was a
teenager.”

  Marisol responds without turning to look at us. “That’s such crap. We’ve still got so many fucking issues to deal with.”

  “I mean,” Leah says, “I guess in comparison to the way things used to be . . .”

  “Where, exactly?” Ezra says. He’s still looking anywhere but me. “We’re in this bubble in Brooklyn, but go anywhere else and it’s a bigotry shitshow.”

  “Even then, not everything’s perfect here, either,” Austin says. “There’re still people who’re afraid to come out to their parents. People being abused, kicked out of their homes.”

  “We’ve still got a long way to go,” Marisol says, finally sliding her sunglasses up and peering at us, upside down, daring any of us to argue—and, yeah, I get her point, but it’s just a little ironic, maybe, that Marisol is preaching to us when she broke up with me because I’m quote-unquote a misogynist. “This country’s fucked, and there’re a bunch of changes it needs to make before anyone gets to say that we don’t have to deal with prejudice for being queer.”

  “We should probably start making those changes with ourselves first, don’t you think?” I ask. The sarcasm is pretty thick, I have to admit. Marisol scrunches up her face and exchanges a look with Leah.

  “What kind of fucking question is that?” She slides her sunglasses back on and gets comfortable in the sand again. “Start with ourselves,” Marisol repeats. “Are you trying to say something?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. Yes.

  Ezra’s frowning at me, but he doesn’t say anything, not like he normally would. Austin glances between the two of us. Leah leans into me a little. “Felix, you okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  I’m not okay. I’m pissed. I don’t know—maybe it was Declan’s messages, to just do whatever the fuck I want to do, or maybe arguing with that fucking troll sparked something in me, but now all of the old anger I’ve had toward Marisol is bubbling to the surface. I told myself I’d just ignore it, but I’m not sure ignoring her bullshit is helping anyone. It’s definitely not helping me. I’d wanted to convince her that she was wrong about me—that I was worthy of her respect and love, after she’d rejected me—but I can see that the way she’s treated me has been beyond fucked-up. No one deserves that.