“Ah yes, Lexapro and I got very well acquainted!” she reassured me. “But back to the clubs. So I joined extra math first, then that was boring and I was surrounded by a bunch of geeks, and I figured that if I wanted to attend a nerd convention, I could just stop by Wynter’s room. So then I joined tennis and I met my first real friend, Abby, she’s such a laugh and she taught me everything she knew. Then we decided to join arts and crafts and there we met Calista and Thomas—they date on and off even though they cheat on each other relentlessly.”
“No one should be a serial cheater at the age of seventeen,” Wynter commented, furrowing his eyebrows in deep concern.
“Ah, well, you live and you learn. And it was in arts and crafts that I was truly able to find my true passion—creating beautifulthings out of nothing. It brought glorious technicolor to my previously dull Nottingham experience. I started making beaded bracelets and charms and sold them online—it helped me make my own money. And then in grade eleven, I joined fashion club and met Rosette, who’s such a lovely girl. She skates too, and she’s a huge fan of Wyn—she has posters plastered all over her room of him and everything,” Bae narrated, and the entire table tried their best to keep up with her.
“Rosette is psychotic,” Beck deadpanned, “That girl once stole one of Wynter’s shirts from the dryer.”
“Did not need to know that,” Wynter grumbled.
“Oh come on, she’s just enthusiastic,” I excused, clearing my throat.
“That’s because you would’ve done the same thing, Soh.” Beck took a slow sip from her steaming mug.
“No I would not!” I defended, feeling slightly self conscious.
“Okay, damn, breathe.” Bae chuckled. “And you, Beck, tell Yesoh all about all the lovely friends you’ve made in law school—”
“I am surrounded by men and they find me insufferable,” she declared. “I take great pride in that.”
“You should, if caring about the opinions of insufferable men made the world go ground it’d never move again,” Wynter said.
Wynter was doing his best to keep up. He laughed at Bae’s animated story about nearly losing her scarf to the wind outside, nodded along as Beck shared updates from work, and even chimed in here and there with little jokes that made both his sisters laugh. But I could tell something was off.
While we all stuffed our faces with various sweet treats and pastries, he was more so pushing food around his plate more than eating it, and his face had taken on a pale, almost waxy hue under the warm lighting. I caught him sneaking sips of waterevery few minutes, his hand trembling slightly as he brought the glass to his lips.
“You okay?” Beck asked, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead like he was a little kid and it brought warmth to my chest watching them fuss over him like I did.
“You’re so quiet,” Bae said suddenly, leaning across the table to nudge him playfully. “What’s going on in that overly complicated head of yours?”
“Just listening,” Wynter said, his voice soft but steady.
“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Beck teased, narrowing her eyes. “You’ve always been a terrible liar, Winnie the Pooh.”
“That’s one of our banned nicknames,” Wynter replied with a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Not fair! You guys call me Baeby all the time still.” She shrugged, folding her arms. “But oh heavens forbid I try and sneak a giggle!”
The conversation drifted on, but Wynter grew quieter, his responses becoming shorter, his gaze flickering toward the restroom more than once. My hand brushed against his under the table, and he finally turned to look at me.
“Wyn, you’re barely on earth with us,” I whispered, leaning closer so only he could hear.
He hesitated, his lips pressing together before he nodded. “My head hurts,” he said, but his voice was shaky.
Before I could press, he pushed back his chair abruptly, his movements stiff and hurried.
“I’ll be right back,” he mumbled, already halfway to the restroom before anyone could respond.
Beck frowned, watching him go. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Wish I could say,” I said quickly, though my own worry was starting to knot in my stomach.
Wynter didn’t come back for several minutes. When he finally returned, his face was pale, and his steps were slow anddeliberate, like he was concentrating just to keep moving. He slid back into the booth beside me, leaning in so close that I could feel the slight tremor in his frame.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, biting the inside of his cheek. “Can we maybe go home early?”
I turned to him fully, brushing a hand over his knee under the table. “Of course. Are you okay?”
He hesitated before shaking his head slightly. “Well, considering I just threw up everything I ate, I think I have to concede,” he admitted quietly,
