Chapter 13

Tyrone laughs. “Marie?” With a quick glance over his shoulder at the crowd, he asks, “Which one is she?”

“I don’t know,” Jacob admits.

With his other hand, Tyrone tugs at one of Jacob’s curls. “You don’t know.” He grins like that’s the cutest thing he’s ever heard.

Jacob holds up his empty cup of beer in both hands like a shield. He wishes it were full. He wants something to drink.

Leaning his head against the wall beside Jacob’s, Tyrone asks, “So you’re here by yourself?”

Jacob shakes his head. “I’m with Avery,” he whispers. Because he likes the sound of that, he says it again, louder. “Avery.”

“Avery?” Tyrone asks. He frowns at the name. “You mean—”

“He means me.”

Jacob looks past Tyrone’s shoulder and sees Avery there, his light eyes shiny with drink. “Hands off, Ty. Find your own boy. This one’s mine.”

Tyrone’s hand drops away. He steps back, suddenly apologetic. “You’re from Aquinas,” he says bitterly, as if Jacob lied to him. “Avery, I didn’t know. I swear…”