Joshua believes in angels.

Or he used to. I don't know if he does anymore.

I think it helped him when his mom was sick to believe there were beings above doctors watching over her. He told me once he saw one in her hospital room. That it wanted to take her to heaven and Joshua asked it to wait, because she wasn't ready, and it listened. He was nine and I'm sure he dreamt or imagined all of it. But I let him hold onto the fantasy anyway.

I never believed in angels until now.

Because I am pretty damn sure Bud Beaumont is one of them.

Tom and Marcus find us at lunch the day after Bud's epic pro-kissing speech in the cafeteria, which apparently was followed up by a fierce pro-Bud rant by Lilliana that made Ali cry. I'm really sorry I missed that. And even more sorry Bud did.

We're hiding out on the fifty-yard line of the football field, enjoying lunch (but mostly kissing), picnic style, when Tom plops down next to me on the blanket and hands me a piece of paper. Marcus sits next to Bud and gives him a warm smile that turns Bud's cheeks rosy.

"What's this?" I ask.

"Marcus's psych evaluation," Tom says. "Read it."

First, I try to read Tom. To find out what level of awful this reading experience is going to be. He's not upset. He looks sort of Zen, which is unusual. I glance at Marcus, who is admiring Tom's aura. Nothing out of the ordinary there. I finally look at Bud, who nods me toward the paper blowing around in my hand. I scoot over a few inches, so he can read it with me.

The gist of the letter is that Marcus is cognitively a genius (called it), with a mild case of dyslexia and less mild cases of claustrophobia, social anxiety disorder, and depression.

The psychologist recommends that Marcus connect with a social worker for counseling and medical advocacy to help him navigate treatments. He also supports Marcus's goal of self-sufficiency in the short term and suggests he start looking for a job and apply for housing assistance so he can find an apartment of his own.

"This is good, right?" I ask.

"Yeah," Tom says. "It's better than we thought it would be."

"How long does it take to get housing assistance?" Bud asks, returning the letter to Tom.

"That's the less good part," Tom says. "It can take months to get the money, and that's if he even qualifies for assistance. There's no point in looking for a place until then. I want him to stay with me, but..." Tom looks at Marcus with a hint of disappointment. "He wants to wait."

"Wait for what?" Bud asks.

"Until we're married," Marcus says.

"Get married!" I say, throwing my hands in the air and wishing I was ordained and could do the honors right here on the football field. "You guys are eighteen. You can do it."

Tom laughs and shakes his head. He reaches for Marcus's hand and squeezes it. "He's making me wait a few years. He says we need to grow up more. Whatever that means."

"Hey, I totally get that, Marcus," Bud says, patting him on the back. "But you don't need to wait to move out of your house. You can stay with me."

Marcus beams at Bud like he's the second coming of Christ. "With you?"

"Definitely," Bud says. "You can stay in our guest house. Move in tonight if you want to."

Marcus throws his arms around Bud and kisses him on the cheek. "Yes," he says.

"Hang on, Marcus," Tom says. "Bud, that's too much. You don't have to do that for us."

"But I want to," Bud says without hesitation. "The guest house is mine when I turn eighteen anyway, and I don't feel like moving all my crap out of my room. It's yours. Stay as long as you want. I mean it."

Now Tom is hugging Bud and crying. "I'll come up with some money. I promise. We'll make it up to you."

"Tom." Bud chuckles. "We have a guest house. I don't need money. But if Marcus wants a job, I can hire him at Gregory's this summer."

I haven't taken a full inhale in over a minute, because Bud is taking my breath away. "You can hire people?" I gasp. "Since when?"

"Since they offered me the assistant manager position," he says. "They want me to handle staffing for the summer. What do you think, Marcus? I can get you a spot in the stockroom. That's where I started. It's quiet back there. You don't have to talk to anyone if don't you want to. And I'll be around all the time if you do want to."

Tom and Marcus are in Bud's lap now, drowning him in hugs and kisses, and I'm about to pass out from lack of oxygen.

Are there really people like this in the world? People like Bud, who only know how to give? Who make themselves happy by making other people happy?

He's a miracle. An angel. I'm sure of it now.

He catches my eye and smiles his 'best day ever' smile. I taste the words 'I love you' on my tongue, but I swallow them. I don't know why. It would feel good to say them. Instead, I lean into the mass of tear-streaked boy faces and find his lips. I kiss him the words I couldn't say and let myself get swallowed by the jumble of love and gratitude he created.

"HOLY SHIT! Are we finally doing this?" Kendall dives headfirst into our love fest and ends up wedged between me and Bud. He flips over onto his back like he's sunbathing. "I'm so ready. Love the location, too."

"What are you talking about?" I ask, slightly miffed he broke up my cuddle with Bud and the lovebirds.

"Don't encourage him," Lilliana says, approaching us like a human rather than a golden retriever. "He's been saying for years we should have an orgy. Because somehow that will solve all our issues with each other."

"It will," Kendall says to the clouds. "Sex solves everything between friends."

Bud eyes Kendall for a punchline, and chuckles when there isn't one.

"What trash are you consuming that gave you that idea?" Lilliana asks.

"It solved it for us," Kendall says.

"How so?" She stretches her legs out on the blanket, settling in for Kendall's nonsense.

"We needed to have sex to figure out we were in love," Kendall spews like a hot doctor in a porno. "And we needed to keep having sex, constantly, to figure out we were better as friends."

"Dude, that makes no sense," Tom says, curling himself around Marcus and resting his chin on his shoulder.

"It makes total sense," Kendall says. "You guys know I'm right."

Bud is blushing hard at Kendall. "I guess I should leave you to it, then," he says. He starts to get up and both Kendall and I reach for him at the same time.

"No, stay," I say, pulling him back down into the warm spot he left behind.

"Okay." He smiles shyly.

"Yeah, man. You don't want to miss out on the orgy," Kendall says, wrapping his massive wingspan around Bud, Tom, and Marcus. "You guys in, or what?"

Lilliana rolls her eyes into oblivion. Then she winks at Bud whose ears have gone red.

"We're not having an orgy," Tom says. "Kendall, seriously, you're scaring the crap out of Marcus." He peels Kendall's arm off Marcus's shoulder.

"You're scaring the crap out of all of us." Joshua's voice makes my stomach bounce. He's walking toward us, alone. He meets my eyes and ventures a smile that says, "hey, remember me?" And I do. Of course, I do.

"You guys suck," Kendall pouts.

I reach over and pat him on the cheek. Letting him know I was all for having group sex on the fifty-yard line at 12:30 on a Thursday. In my mind, at least.

Joshua joins us on the blanket and Bud slides a protective arm around me. It warms my whole body and adds a layer of toughness to my heart skin. I want to kiss him but decide to take the high road for some stupid reason. Or maybe I don't want Bud to think I'm only doing it to make Joshua jealous. That's not why I would do it.

"Bud's letting Marcus live in his guest house," I say proudly. Bud gives me a stern look that says, "don't do that", but I'm doing it. "And he's getting him a job at Gregory's."

"Bud!" Kendall grabs Bud by the face, and I swear, for one instant, he's going to kiss him full on the lips, but he plants a smacky one on his forehead instead. "That is fucking amazing. But who the hell has a guest house?" He laughs.

"Bud's family is loaded," Lilliana says. "Ever heard of Beaumont Creamery?"

"NO FUCKING WAY!" Kendall shoves Bud (and me) halfway across the picnic blanket. "Are you serious? That's you?! Man, you should have told us that years ago. We would have been friends with you way sooner."

"Yeah," Bud says softly, recovering us from Kendall's loving assault. "That's why I didn't tell you."

Kendall smiles like a proud dad at a tee ball championship and musses Bud's hair. Bud's grip on me becomes desperate and there's a hint of panic in his eyes. He does not want to be talking about this. Time to change the subject.

"And he wears size fourteen shoes," I blurt out.

Bud's eyes triple in size. "Dot, what the hell?!"

"No way," Tom says, dismissively. "No one in high school wears a size fourteen. No one human anyway."

"Maybe he's a demigod," Lilliana says, sneaking a peek at the bottom of Bud's shoe. "Size fourteen. Ha! Kendall, looks like Bud's got you beat."

Kendall scoffs and turns his head away, like he doesn't care. But he does.

"What size are you?" I ask, deciding the best way to make Bud feel better is to turn the spotlight on someone else. Luckily, Kendall lives for it.

"Twelve and a half," Lilliana cackles.

"What are you laughing at?" Kendall grins. "I don't remember you complaining. Oh wait. Yeah, I do." He puts on a ridiculous voice we all assume is supposed to be Lilliana but sounds more like her grandmother. On helium. "Oh my God, Kendall. It's so big. How do you expect me to deal with... all of that?"

Lilliana punches his arm, hard enough that I can feel it. It only revs Kendall up more and now he's crawling across the blanket on his hands and knees, like a lion on the hunt. Lilliana's face breaks into an uncharacteristically girlish smile and she leaps up and sprints toward the uprights. He bolts after her and we're all cheering. For who? Who cares? We want them both to win. Whatever heart stopping game they're still playing with each other.

"Come on, Sweetheart," Tom says. "Let's go referee before someone gets hurt. Or pregnant."

He offers his hand to Marcus and helps him up. They walk hand in hand, in no particular hurry, toward the end zone, where Kendall and Lilliana are play wrestling. Or real wrestling. It's hard to tell. But Lilliana is winning.

Bud's hand squeezes mine. When I turn around, he's already getting up. I grab his ankle to let him know I'm not on board with him leaving. "I'm going to head back," he says, shaking his foot loose from my grip. "I'll see you guys later." He shoulders his bag and turns away, preparing to abandon me with Joshua.

I open my mouth to protest, but Joshua does that first. "Bud, wait, hang on a minute."

Bud pauses his retreat and gives Joshua his attention.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. About Ali. She's sorry, too. I tried to get her to come say it to you herself, but she's embarrassed about how she acted. I know it's not an excuse, but she's pretty stressed out about school next year. We both are. And... I got the Globe internship."

My heart leaps in my chest and, before I know it's happening, we're hugging. "Joshua, that's amazing," I say. And here I am. Relearning him. His nervous laugh, the slightness of his frame, the press of his slender fingers on the small of my back. The pull of him. My whole nervous system firing.

"Yeah," he says, his voice vibrating against my chest. "It's good. But scary, you know?"

"Congratulations," Bud says. A dagger of guilt hits my gut. I forgot he was here.

"Thank you." Joshua pulls away from my embrace and turns his eyes down to his lap. "For what it's worth, you guys. I know what you have together is real. I don't think it's put on or ... fake." He softens the last word, like he doesn't want to remember his own girlfriend accused us of faking our affection for each other. That it was grossing everyone out. "Bud, I don't know you that well. And that's my fault. But I know Dot. Or ... I did." He clears his throat and swallows hard. Then he looks Bud in the eye, and I go invisible. "Thank you," Joshua says. "For being what she needs. And what she deserves. For being..." He sighs. "Everything I'm not."

Bud is standing over us. His face is blushless. His hands still. If he's experiencing an emotion, he's not showing what it is. He nods at Joshua and extends his hand to him. Joshua stands up quickly and shakes it. Then Bud turns around and leaves without looking at me. Without saying a word.

I want to stop him. I want him to come back and pull me into his lap and hold onto me. Because my heart wall is weakening. The protective warmth of him draining away and I'm exposed. To hurt. To uncertainty.

To Joshua.

My ears fill up with the sounds of Lilliana cackling victoriously, Kendall growling in defeat, Tom and Marcus laughing. And Joshua breathing beside me. His head is down and I'm glad. I can't do his eyes right now.

"Is she really sorry about what she said to Bud?" I ask my shoes.

"Yes," he says. "She's really sorry." He laughs softly and when I turn my head his green eyes are waiting for me. And my insides turn to liquid fire ... all over again. "I hope you know, I didn't start dating her to piss you off."

I smile. Just to watch him do it back. "I know."

"She's never at her best when it comes to you. I think deep down she feels guilty about what happened. That she was a crappy friend. And she's worried... about losing me. And I get it," he says. "I worry about losing myself, like, all the time. I'm easily lost."

I want to reach for him. Touch his hand. Reassure him. But I know I shouldn't. So, I don't.

"I think she thought the whole thing with you and Bud was just an attempt to make me jealous or something."

"It wasn't," I say firmly, because I need him to know that's not what Bud and I are about.

"I know that," he says. "But it did anyway. Whether you meant it to or not. And it made me realize how weird it must have been for you all this time. Watching me and Ali together. It's hard. And I'm sorry I didn't think about that more. I should have."

"Probably," I say.

"And the only reason I haven't been acting like a jealous dick to Bud all this time..." he glances at my hands like he wants to take them. "...is because I know."

"Know what?"

He looks at me. "That he's better than me. For you. And just in general. He's better, Dot."

What is he doing to me? Doesn't he know how hot this is? That he's conceding? Bowing out? Passing the torch to Bud, the victor?

Bud, the angel. Who left me here knowing Joshua would say all the right things to keep my heart in his hands. Not in Bud's.

But I was just getting used to Bud's hands. His thick, eternally warm, hands on my heart. Protecting it. I still need that. I still want that.

"I know it's a few weeks away," Joshua says. "But my parents want to have your family over for breakfast on graduation day, like we always planned. They want to take the picture of us on the porch swing. You know, to go with the other ones."

I smile. When we graduated from kindergarten, our class dressed up in tiny caps and gowns for the occasion. Our parents snapped a photo of the two of us on the porch swing behind Joshua's house. They did the same for our eighth-grade graduation. And we all promised we'd meet back for a third time when Joshua and I graduated from high school.

"Will you come?" he asks tentatively.

I think of Bud. And wonder if he already has a plan for our graduation breakfast. I don't want to disappoint him. Or hurt him.

"What about Ali?" I ask, projecting my concerns onto Joshua.

"She'll have her own plans," he says. "And I don't need a picture on the porch swing with her to complete the set. I need it with you."

I need that, too. Even if it's the last thing we ever do together. I'm not going to miss it.

"We'll be there," I say.

"Good," he says. "Now, go talk to Bud. He's been waiting for you under the bleachers, and I'm not looking for him to hit me again. That guy's hands are fucking enormous."

My heart swells at the thought of Bud, keeping watch over me from the sidelines all this time. In case I need rescuing.

"Maybe he's waiting for you to try to seduce me first," I say.

"Well, he's going to be really disappointed. Because if I've learned one thing from everything that's happened with us, Dot, it's that I suck at seduction."

I press my lips together.

"Wow." He blushes. "Not going to argue with me on that one, huh?"

"We're all good at different things," I tease.

He laughs and it thrums against my heart. "Yeah," he says. "I guess we are." 

* * * * *