EPILOGUE
START OF TERM
Campus buzzes with back-to-school energy, everyone tanned from summer and armed with new notebooks. Alex and I sprawl on our couch watching Troy cook - he’s insisted on making his famous fajitas for everyone’s last first-day dinner.
“You’re really not going to tell us the secret ingredient?” Alex asks, stealing another piece of pepper from the cutting board.
“Family secret,” Troy says, swatting her hand away. “Passed down through generations of Hawkins’ men.”
“It’s smoked paprika,” I stage-whisper to Alex, “and he learned it from YouTube.”
“Betrayed by my own sister!” Troy clutches his chest dramatically. “After I’ve spent hours slaving over this meal—”
“It’s been twenty minutes,” Freddie calls from where he’s setting the table.
“The secret,” Troy continues, ignoring him, “is love. Cooking is my love language.”
Alex raises an eyebrow. “Is that why Jessica from your Sports Psychology class keeps asking about you?”
“I’ve never cooked for Jessica.” Troy adds more peppers to the sizzling pan. “Or any girl, actually.”
“Really?” I sit up, interested. “Not even Jane from the hockey team?”
“Nope.” He stirs with practiced precision. “The way to someone’s heart is through their stomach. Can’t risk having them fall in love with me just because of my culinary skills.”
“So modest.” Alfie deadpans, appearing in the doorway. He drops a kiss on my head as he passes, and my heart does that little flip it still does every time he’s near.
“You mock”—Troy points his spatula at Alfie—“but I’m serious. Food is intimate. Personal. You don’t cook for someone unless you’re ready for them to see the real you.”
“Is that why you only cook for us?” Alex asks softly.
Troy’s expression shifts to something more genuine. “Yeah. You guys are family. You get the real stuff.”
“The real stuff being YouTube recipes?” I tease, but I’m touched.
“Hey, that paprika tip changed my life!”
The kitchen fills with laughter and the smell of spices.
Ethan arrives with too much beer, launching into a story about his summer internship that has us all crying with laughter.
Freddie FaceTimes with his California firm about his post-grad job while Alex pretends she’s not already looking at apartments out there.
It hits me suddenly - this is their last year. Next fall, Troy, Alfie, Freddie and Ethan will be gone. Everything will be different.
“Hey.” Alfie catches my expression, pulling me closer on the couch. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I curl into his side. “Just thinking about how much I’m going to miss this next year.”
“Miss what?” Troy asks, plating the fajitas. “My incredible cooking?”
“All of it.” I gesture around the kitchen. “This. Us.”
“Please.” Ethan scoffs. “Like any of us are actually leaving each other. Freddie’s already planning monthly game nights in California.”
“And I hear they have phones in CalTech,” Alfie murmurs in my ear. “Amazing technology.”
“Plus,” Troy adds, “someone has to make sure you’re eating real food and not just ramen.”
“I can cook!” I protest.
Everyone - even Alex - bursts out laughing.
Troy sets down plates piled high with fajitas. “Now eat before it gets cold. I didn’t spend hours—”
“Twenty minutes!” everyone choruses.
The kitchen erupts in laughter again. I look around at these people - my best friend, my brother, my boyfriend, our weird little family - and think about how much I love each and every one of them.
The next day, we decide to head to campus together for the first day of classes. It’s the boys’ final year, not that they feel sentimental about it at all. Whereas Alex and I both cried last night at the idea that our boyfriends won’t be at UMS after this year.
“Ready?” Alfie’s hand finds mine as we approach the humanities building.
“For the grand mural reveal?” I squeeze his fingers. “I still can’t believe you wouldn’t let me see the final touches.”
“Some things are worth waiting for, Tink.”
The whole gang’s already there - Alex perched on Freddie’s shoulders taking photos “For the aesthetic!” she insists, while Ethan tries to convince Troy that the original anatomically correct graffiti was “basically art.” And “no better than what you’d see in a modern art museum.”
I round the corner and stop dead. The mural is breathtaking - wildflowers dancing across the wall in shades of pink and purple, and rising from the blooms, butterflies that look ready to take flight.
“You remembered. The butterflies…” I whisper to Alfie.
“Hard to forget anything about you, Tink.”
“Oh god, they’re doing that thing again.” Ethan groans. “The mushy staring.”
“Let them be mushy,” Alex calls down from her Freddie-perch. “It’s cute!”
“It’s weird is what it is,” Troy says, but he’s grinning. “My best friend and my little sister. Still trying to wrap my head around that one.”
“Better than when you caught them making out in the kitchen.” Ethan offers helpfully.
Troy’s face darkens. “We agreed no make out zones in the house except in your own rooms. Which, unfortunately, I can’t police but I would if I could.”
“Speaking of making out,” Alex interrupts, “Freddie, put me down so I can kiss you properly. We have lost time to make up for,”
“I missed you so much.” Freddie reminds her, helping her down with ridiculous gentleness.
“God, I’m surrounded by disgusting couples.” Troy groans. “Even the mural’s romantic. I’ve only got Ethan left for actual fun and he’s basically with Paige now.”
“We are not official yet. And! Excuse you, I am a delight,” Ethan protests. “But yeah bro, you’re next. Mark my words - some girl’s gonna come along and turn you into a poetry-writing sap just like the rest of these losers.”
“Please”—Troy scoffs—“I’m immune.”
“That’s what they all say,” I sing-song. “Remember when Freddie and Alex were just friends?”
“I maintain I was temporarily insane,” Freddie says, pulling Alex closer. “Clearly your fault.”
“Gross.” Troy and Ethan say in unison.
“Just wait. I heard you’re the most eligible bachelor now that Alfie’s taken, Troy...” Alex grins wickedly.
“Excuse you?” Ethan pipes in.
“Nope!” Troy covers his ears. “Not listening. Come on, Ethan. Let’s go to Moe’s later and get fucked up, where people still know how to act normal.”
“First round’s on me,” Ethan announces. “In honor of Troy’s last days of freedom before he inevitably falls in love and becomes unbearable.”
As our friends head off, still debating Troy’s romantic future, I linger with Alfie.
“The butterflies are perfect,” I tell him softly. “Even though you said you couldn’t draw them.”
“Hm, only for you.” He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my temple.
The sun catches the metallic paint, making the butterflies shimmer. Behind us, I can hear Alex laughing at something Freddie said, Troy protesting Ethan’s dramatic reading of an imaginary love poem he’ll supposedly write someday.
Falling in love isn’t so bad. Even if your brother does make gagging noises every time you kiss his best friend.