November was an unexpectedly harsh month in Linfield—the trees were quickly losing their leaves, their branches dark and skeletal. The first snow hadn't come yet, leaving the world in a cold limbo between autumn and winter.

They'd had their last practice on the water for the fall season, and the team would be practicing indoors on the rowing machines until the spring. Andy hated the winter season—it was a never-ending cycle of lifting weights and logging miles on the rowing machines until his eyes crossed with boredom.

Andy was spared having to figure out his feelings about Drew, at least for a little while—he and Drew were far too preoccupied trying to figure out what the fuck, exactly, was going on with Max and Finn. Andy had seen them fight more in the past semester than the past three years combined, and the apartment had been unbearably tense for the last two weeks.

Their strange mood had been rubbing off on Andy, too, making him nervous and jumpy, as if at any moment the ground was going to disappear out from under him.

Finally, the two of them cornered Max and Finn upstairs.

"This is an intervention," Andy said. Finn, who was standing in the kitchen, looked at them with wide eyes, feigning innocence.

Max, who'd just come upstairs, froze and crossed his arms defensively.

"What?" Max said.

"You guys are being so weird," Andy continued. "What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing's going on," Finn said, a little too quickly.

Drew snorted and he and Andy exchanged glances. It had been Drew's idea, of course, to address things head on. Andy had hoped Max and Finn would sort out whatever was happening between them, but the situation had become dire.

"You guys are like fifth graders," Drew said. "I feel like your dad or something."

"Seriously, guys," Andy said. "Did you have a fight? What the hell?"

"Ask Max," Finn said. "He's the one who's been being a dick to me nonstop for weeks."

Max gave Finn a nasty look.

"Finn's just pissed because I won't let him micromanage my life," Max said. Andy glanced at Drew, who was wearing his most long-suffering expression.

"Well," Drew said after a moment. "Fine. If you guys don't want to talk about it, whatever. But honestly? Get your shit together. You're making this apartment miserable to live in."

Drew turned to leave and Andy followed him out, shutting the door hard behind him.

"Jesus Christ," Andy said, the cold air biting his lungs as he inhaled. He realized his hands were shaking—he was good at talking to people, but he'd always hated confrontation.

"What a fucking mess," Drew muttered.

"What's with them?" Andy said, shoving his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. "Also, wanna grab dinner?"

"Sure," Drew said. "And I have no clue. But whatever it is, I'm sick of it."

"Seriously," Andy said. "I want them to go back to being lovebirds."

Drew shot Andy a strange look.

"Wait, why did you say that?" he asked.

"I was just kidding," Andy said. "Like, you know how everyone jokes about how they're the team dads—I wasn't—I didn't mean to make fun of—shit, I'm sorry—" Andy could feel his face turning red, and not just from the cold. As soon as it was out of his mouth, Andy realized he'd just made a joke where the punchline boiled down to, "Haha, Max and Finn are gay."

Drew raised an eyebrow at Andy, and Andy could see the corners of Drew's mouth twitching as he tried not to laugh at Andy.

"You're fine," Drew said. "What I meant was… the lovebirds thing. Do you think… they're…"

Drew trailed off, and Andy's eyes went wide.

"Wait, do I think what?"

"Nevermind," Drew said, shaking his head.

Andy grabbed Drew's arm, stopping him.

"Wait," Andy said, more firmly this time. "You think they're like—you know—"

"Let's at least get inside for this conversation," Drew said. "It's freezing." The dry, slightly musty heat hit them like a wall as they pushed into the building. The heaters on campus were running full blast now, which meant that no matter how cold the walk to class was, Andy still ended up sweating by the end of his lectures.

"Tell me what you know," Andy demanded, digging his fingers into Drew's arm. He knew his whole face was lighting up.

Drew rolled his eyes.

"Okay, so for the record I think it's super rude to discuss people's sexuality when they're not around—"

"Blah blah, you're an upstanding guy, I get it—now tell me," Andy insisted.

"I just…" Drew trailed off with a shrug. "I dunno. Sometimes I wonder if there's… something there."

"What something?" Andy said. "Something where?"

"Oh my god," Drew said with a laugh, prying Andy's fingers off his arm. "You are such a gossip."

Andy shrugged, unapologetic.

"We've been friends with them for years," he said. "I think I've earned the right to know if they're banging."

Drew snorted.

"God, Andy, you're such a poet—"

"Tell me," Andy said, and Drew's eyes were sparkling—he was clearly enjoying drawing this out. Andy punched him in the arm.

"Ow," Drew said, rubbing his arm. "Jeez, okay. I don't have any hard evidence—"

Andy gave Drew a lecherous wink.

"Excuse me," Drew said primly. "I don't have any concrete evidence, but… haven't you seen how Max looks at Finn? It's just… I dunno. Feels like something more than friendship."

He trailed off, his face suddenly serious.

"Wait, you think Max is like… in love with Finn? And that's why they're fighting?" Andy said.

Drew bit his lip.

"I don't know. I mean, fuck, maybe they've been secretly dating for three years. Who knows. I sometimes get a… vibe from Max though."

"Wait, gaydar's a real thing?" Andy said.

Drew groaned.

"I… have no idea," Drew said. "There was never anything in particular. I just sometimes… wondered."

"Well, what about me?" Andy said.

"What about you?" he said.

"Did you ever get that kind of vibe from me?" Andy asked.

A strange expression, one Andy couldn't quite parse, flashed across Drew's face, but it was gone in an instant.

"No," Drew said after a moment. "You're straight. Come on—let's go get dinner."

Andy followed Drew into the little café. A few of their teammates were there, so they all ate together, and on the surface, Andy was his usual laughing, boisterous self.

But inside, Andy felt like someone had scooped something out of his chest—and he didn't even know what was missing, only that it left a ragged-edged hole where it used to be.

Because maybe Andy wasn't straight. It was getting more and more difficult to keep himself from lingering in Drew's bed when they'd finished. Andy found himself thinking about Drew in strange, new ways. Some thoughts were obvious—wondering what Drew's precum might taste like if Andy ran his tongue over the head, wondering who would do what if they fucked. But he also found himself staring out the window in lectures at the snowflakes falling down lazily, wondering if Drew was bored in class too. Wondering if he'd slept well. Wondering if, maybe, Drew was looking out another window, thinking of him.

Andy thought back to that night at the very beginning of school, when he'd kissed Drew in the alley behind The Cricket. It had been almost a joke then, something that had cost him nothing emotionally, had meant nothing—

And yet, now Andy found himself turning that wisp of memory over and over in his head, wishing he'd paid attention more. What shirt had Drew been wearing? What had he smelled like? Had he gotten hard?

But when Andy thought of telling Drew, he balked, his whole mind coming to a screeching halt.

I think I like guys, too. But most of all, I just like you.

He couldn't say it. There was too much at stake. Drew was always quick to change the subject when they talked about things like this, and Andy knew it was because Drew wasn't interested in anything more than a few handjobs in the dark.

No matter how much Andy found himself hoping for more.

* * *

Andy's mother called him later that week to discuss Thanksgiving plans. He expected her to tell him that she'd booked a flight for he and his brother to come home for Thanksgiving break, as Andy had done for the past three years.

Andy had two categories for holidays—there were friend holidays and family holidays. Friend holidays were things like Halloween and New Year's Eve and Fourth of July, where the day was little more than a break from work or school and an excuse to consume ungodly amounts of alcohol. Family holidays, of course, were the ones like Thanksgiving and Christmas, where Andy spent the day alternately telling his elderly relatives about his plans after college—though he didn't actually have any yet—and sneaking into the garage to smoke weed with his older cousins.

Of all the family holidays, Thanksgiving was his favorite. The Craig family usually celebrated it at his uncle's house, which was a little outside Andy's hometown, in one of the more ritzy suburbs—Andy had many fond memories of racing down the sloping, manicured lawn to the small duck pond in the back to pelt ducks with leftover chunks of stuffing with his cousins.

And though Andy complained about his family to Drew—his brother was weird, his mom was clingy, his aunt chewed with her mouth open—what Andy secretly loved most about Thanksgiving was being with all of them together. For a few golden hours, this group of people, bound by blood and marriage, were happy together, and the holiday always felt warm and happy and safe. On these days, he even found himself feeling a little glimmer of fondness for Noel.

But when Andy's mom called, he got a nasty shock.

"We're thinking of doing something a little different for Thanksgiving," Andy's mom said.

Andy narrowed his eyes, though she couldn't see. He was in the university center, on his way home after class via the student mailboxes. He checked his mailbox about once a semester, and it was stuffed with a mixture of postcards from his mother and university notices and junk mail.

"What do you mean, different?" Andy asked, not bothering to keep the suspicion out of his voice.

"Well," his mother said, drawing out the word in a way that made Andy nervous—it was the same tone of voice she'd used when he was eight and she'd told him his father had run over Andy's bike on accident. "We were talking to Uncle Ron and Aunt Linda, and since Noel's off at college now, we were all thinking about doing a cruise instead of a family dinner."

Andy blinked.

"Wait, we're going on a cruise?" he asked.

"No," she said. "Your father and I are—we were thinking you and Noel could celebrate together on campus. You know, your cousin Ashley lives just outside of Linfield—you should call her—"

His mother was chattering on about his various options, but Andy didn't process any of it. On some level, he knew it was just a weekend, and didn't really matter. But on another level, a far more immature and dramatic one, it felt, simply put, like a betrayal.

"So you guys have been planning this for a while?" Andy said, interrupting his mother.

"Well—yes," she said after a moment.

"Mom," he said, only a little bit embarrassed by how whiny his voice sounded. "I can't believe this."

"Andy," his mother said. He could tell she was starting to lose her patience. "We've already booked the cruise, so that's really the end of the story."

Andy opened and closed his mouth a few times, like he was some kind of fish that had been hauled up onto the deck of a fishing vessel.

"Well, fine then," he said. "I'll just spend Thanksgiving alone."

"Andy, you're being—"

"Goodbye, Mother," he said, and hung up the phone.

Brimming with self-righteous rage, Andy stomped across campus to Noel's dorm. He hadn't been in the freshman dorms in years, and it brought back a strange wave of nostalgia, reminding him of a time when he wasn't freaked out about the future, a time when the rest of his college career was laid out before him, shimmering with potential—a time when his parents weren't abandoning him.

Noel's door was open a crack, and Andy slammed it open. The room was dark, the curtains drawn tight, and in the corner, Noel's computer screen glowed blue.

"Jesus," Noel said. He'd been hunched over his computer, but he jumped, turning around in his chair.

"Did you talk to Mom?" Andy demanded. He glanced around—it was as if a clear line had been drawn down the center of the room. Noel's roommate's side was pleasantly untidy, with posters from some soccer team tacked up on the wall, the bedspread rumbled and textbooks piled on the desk. Meanwhile, Noel's side looked like he was about to move out—there was nothing on the walls, nothing to indicate what kind of person had been living there for months now.

"Yeah, earlier today," Noel said vaguely. "What are you doing?"

Andy had crossed over to Noel's desk and wrenched the curtains open.

"I’m letting in some light," Andy said. "You live like a goblin. Did she tell you about Thanksgiving?"

Noel sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah," he said.

"So?!" Andy said. "Aren't you mad?"

Noel blinked. Noel had never been particularly expressive, but after eighteen years, Andy knew how to read even the subtlest changes and quirks in Noel's face, and Andy knew Noel was pretty much smirking at him right now.

"Why would I be mad?"

"Um, because they're ditching us," Andy said, waving his hand. "To go on some cruise."

"Whatever," Noel said, shrugging. He turned back to his computer. "I'm just gonna stay on campus. I have a big project due after break and I want to get started."

"Oh my god," Andy said. "That's so sad."

Noel glanced at Andy, raising his eyebrow.

"Look, Andy, if you care so much, just go to Ashley's house and celebrate it with her and her husband."

"That's not what the problem is—"

"Jesus Christ," Noel said, rubbing his temple. "You always react to things so dramatically. This isn't some after-school special. Mom and Dad just want a nice vacation. Let them have it."

Andy glared at his little brother, his irritation matched only by his sense of shame. Of course Noel was perfect and mature and responsible and grown up. He hated when Noel was right—and unfortunately, it happened a little too often for Andy's tastes.

"Fine," Andy said after a moment, faltering. "Enjoy your sad holiday on campus alone in the computer lab."

"I will," Noel said evenly, and Andy slammed the door hard on the way out.

He walked back home, hugging his arms around himself against the harsh wind that had picked up. And yet again, Andy found himself juggling a dozen different emotions he couldn't quite name. He felt sad and mad and bad, and on top of that, he felt guilty for feeling all those things.

All he really knew was, in that moment, the only thing he wanted was to see Drew.

Luckily, Drew was at his desk when Andy got back to the room, and he looked up with concern as Andy stomped into the room, throwing his backpack viciously on the bed.

"What's up?" Drew asked cautiously.

Andy immediately launched into a tirade about his mother and Noel, the words bubbling up out of him almost violently, and it was only when Drew stood up and grabbed his wrists that Andy realized he'd picked up his most recent essay, which had been sitting on his desk, and ripped it to shreds.

"Whoa, whoa," Drew said softly, still gently holding Andy's wrists. The deep, chocolate brown of Drew's eyes had stilled something inside Andy, the anger abating as quickly as it had come. Andy was suddenly aware of how close they were, how quiet the apartment was.

He hoped Drew wouldn't let go of him, and Drew didn't.

"S-sorry," Andy said shakily. "It's—it's stupid, I know."

"I don't think it's stupid," Drew said, in that gentle, steady voice of his, the one that he only seemed to use with Andy. "But I don't think it's really about Thanksgiving."

"What do you mean?" Andy said, frowning.

Drew hesitated, licking his lips.

"I—I mean, I could be wrong," he said. "But don't you think… that this is about things changing?"

"What?" Andy said.

"I mean, you don't… typically react well to change," Drew said, and Andy winced, knowing Drew's assessment was absolutely correct. "I don't mean that in a bad way—it's just a thing. We've all got flaws."

"Max and Finn don't," Andy said darkly, and Drew laughed.

"Max and Finn absolutely do," he said. "And so do I. But what I'm trying to say is—I know you're stressed about next year, and you were looking forward to Thanksgiving. I think it threw you for a loop, and you don't know what to do. And that's why you're reacting so strongly."

Andy knit his brow, still not quite sure what Drew was getting at.

"This whole year has been stressful for us," Drew said. "All of us. We're gonna be in the real world soon, and that's… terrifying."

Drew glanced down, as if he'd only just now noticed that he was still holding onto Andy, and he gently dropped Andy's hands. Andy felt the loss of the heat of Drew's skin against his wrists.

"So… what do I do, then?" Andy said, his voice quiet.

"Fuck if I know," Drew said with a crooked smile. "You could do what I do and compartmentalize all those pesky 'emotions' and just repress everything. I'm sure that won't land me in a midlife crisis eventually."

Andy smiled in spite of himself. Now that the anger had boiled away, he just felt empty and lonely, chilled inside and out in the wake of a bright blaze of emotion.

Andy ran his hand through his hair.

"I feel so dumb sometimes," he said, looking down. "Noel called me out for being really dramatic, and he's right. I get so worked up over really stupid shit—"

"Andy," Drew said, cutting him off. Andy glanced back up, and Drew brought his hand to cup Andy's cheek, sending an electric frisson through Andy's stomach. "You feel things deeply. That's one of the things that makes you so great."

Andy's breath caught in his throat—not only because of Drew's words and his touch, but also because of the softness, the affection on his face. Andy had never seen anyone look at him like that before.

Drew pulled his hand away, glancing quickly to the side.

"Er, sorry," Drew said.

"It's—you're fine," Andy croaked.

They stood there for a moment, in the middle of the room they shared, and Andy could feel whatever door had opened between them closing quickly.

"Are Max and Finn home?" Andy said, seized by a sudden burst of inspiration that he didn't feel like examining.

"Uh, no," Drew said, startled. "They went out to dinner."

The tension between Max and Finn had apparently been resolved, because now the two of them seemed closer together, spending every minute of every day practically glued together. And now that Drew had said something, Andy couldn't help noticing the way they looked at each other, the little affectionate touches when they thought no one was watching.

And, Andy was ashamed to admit, he was jealous of them.

"Good," Andy said. "I have an idea."