In sleeveless muscle shirts and board shorts, Spencer and Mike appear ready for the beach. Dylan also looks casual, though with a more mature style: a polo shirt over khaki shorts.

All three stare up at us, and we stare back, both groups trying hard to process what it sees.

Isaac is the first to recover. He grins down at his friends and, rather than move away from me, pulls me closer against his side.

"You guys got here early!" he exclaims. "Well, what d'ya think? Do we make a damn cute couple or what?"

He turns and kisses the side of my face with an audible smack.

Meanwhile, I'm standing like a deer in headlights, frozen stupid with dread, waiting to be destroyed.

Spencer and Mike burst into peals of incredulous laughter.

"Isaac, dude! What the Hell are you doing? People can see you out here!" Spencer exclaims through his giggles.

Isaac's bright smile dims, and his expression clouds with confusion.

"So? I told you guys I like dudes as much as chicks, remember? What's the problem?"

"Nothing, I guess," Spencer says, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "You just always act so normal, I guess we forgot."

"This is normal," Isaac argues, his arm tightening a little on my side.

Spencer lifts his bare shoulders in a shrug. "Whatever you say, man. It's cool."

"No man, it's fuckin' hilarious," Mike cackles, raising his phone. "This is pure gold!"

I realize what he's doing just in time to turn aside, ducking my head into the space above Isaac's shoulder to hide my face.

"Hey!" Isaac shouts, releasing me and charging towards his friend. "Don't do that Mike! Delete it right now!"

"What? Why?" Mike objects, looking at his phone with glee.

Isaac grabs for it and Mike jumps away, and then they do a weird little dance, like male animals facing off in the wild or something, until Isaac proves quicker and snatches the phone from Mike's hand.

He taps the screen a few times and then tosses it back.

"Fuck, man? Why'd you do that?" Mike complains. "I thought you said it was 'normal' and shit."

"It is—or it should be. But don't take pictures without asking. You of all people should know better," he adds.

He holds Mike's gaze a moment, and another nonverbal battle goes on between them for a few seconds, until Mike loses again and looks away.

"Sorry," he says, apparently chastised. "I just thought it was funny."

Isaac seems genuinely perplexed. "It's not funny," he says, eyeing me critically. "It's beautiful. I did a good job, don't you think? It looks just like Belle's dress."

For Belle's sake, I hope not.

So far I haven't dared to look at Dylan, but I do now, curious to see how he reacts to Isaac's glowing comparison.

He's frowning, but the stark, raw hatred I'd seen before is gone, or at least concealed behind a more neutral facade.

"What are you guys doing here so early, anyway?" Isaac goes on. "I thought you wouldn't be here 'til the afternoon."

"Ooh, uh-oh," Spencer laughs. "I think we interrupted Isaac's play, guys."

Isaac rolls his eyes. "I'm working here, dumb-ass. Although, no one said I don't enjoy my work."

He winks and smirks as he returns to my side and starts undoing the safety pins holding my 'gown' together. As it falls away, I feel Dylan's gaze on my bare skin like a laser burn, and pull my shirt on as soon as I can.

Spencer claps me on the shoulder as I do. "So, Felix, are you into dudes too, or did Isaac just corrupt your soul with his starry-eyed gaze?"

"Uh," I stall.

With Dylan watching, I feel like something captive that's been given a taste of freedom and is now being forced back into its too-small cage. I realize I don't want to go.

I shrug. "This was definitely his idea," I say. Credit where credit's due, after all. "But yeah, I'm gay. I'm demisexual, too."

"What does that mean?" Mike asks as we help Isaac gather his camera gear and make our way across the patch of perfect lawn towards the house. Despite his earlier amusement, he sounds genuinely curious.

"It just means that I don't often feel attracted to other people," I say. "I have to really like the person on an emotional level, too, and I usually have to get to know them pretty well first. That's all."

"Oh, that's cool," Mike says. "I respect that." He holds out his fist and, with the least amount of awkwardness I can manage, I extend my own and bump it against his knuckles.

He grins. "Actually, you did look pretty hot in that sheet."

"Careful, bro—you'll turn gay," Spencer jokes.

Mike rolls his eyes, "Dude, even I know it doesn't work that way. Be cool."

Spencer shrugs and shoots me a wink. "Sorry. I guess I'm just used to my heterogeneous mindset. I learned that word in class," he adds proudly.

"It's heteronormative, genius," Mike says, "and 'homophobic,' would work better in your case, anyway."

"Hey, I'm not homophobic," Spencer protests. "I've watched every episode of Queer Eye—I love gay guys!"

He realizes what he's said, and even I can't help laughing. Dylan is the only one whose mouth remains pinched in a tight line.

He hasn't said anything yet, and I'm just waiting for his bladed words to fall. He's the oldest, he's the groom, and he's my brother, and as such he holds the most social power—if he wants to use it. Spencer and Mike seem like nice guys, at their core, but they're also immature, and I wouldn't bet much on their ability to withstand peer pressure.

If Dylan wants to turn them against me, I don't think he'll have to try very hard to succeed.

As we enter the house he speaks, but to my relief he changes the subject rather than address anything that's gone before.

"Isaac, do we have the tables and chairs?" he asks.

"Not yet," Isaac says. "My uncle's renting all that stuff, but it won't be delivered until next week."

"And the catering?" he asks, turning to me. "Were you able to get the champagne I want?"

"Um," I swallow, "not yet. I'm planning to try to find a caterer today."

"You're 'planning to try,'?" he repeats, a nasty edge to his tone. "What the fuck have you been doing up here, Felix? My wedding's in ten fucking days, and I—"

"Whoa!" Isaac cuts in, eyes wide and hands raised. "Cool it, bro. We're working hard, I swear. Relax."

Dylan casts him a glance, and I swear I see a shade of dislike in them almost as strong as the one he usually directs at me, but it's gone so fast—covered by a congenial grin—that I'm not sure I saw it at all.

"Sorry, sorry—pre-wedding jitters, I guess. Don't mind me." He heaves a dramatic sigh and makes a show of wringing his hands, as if to shake off an excess of nerves.

"Sure," Isaac agrees, but I'm gratified to see that he doesn't appear entirely convinced. He's so easygoing and honest, I'd expected him to swallow whatever excuse Dylan served up whole. He turns back to Spencer and Mike and grins. "All right! Let's get to work then. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can play!"

"Fuck yeah!" Mike whoops. "That's more like it!"

I decide to make my escape while I can.

"I'm heading out then. See you guys later," I call, as Dylan, Mike, and Spencer regard Uncle Reg's expensive and heavy furniture with wary expressions. I can tell that Mike, at least, is already regretting his eagerness to volunteer for moving duty.

Actually, I could arrange the catering perfectly well by phone, without leaving the house at all, but I'd rather stay out of Dylan's way as much as possible while he's here.

I gather my stuff and prepare to leave, but Isaac follows me to the door and catches me gently by the arm.

"Hey, are you okay? Spencer and Mike are dumb jerks sometimes, but at least they know it. They don't mean any harm."

"I'm fine—don't worry about me," I assure him.

He studies me for a moment, and then a shy but wide smile spreads across his face and lights his eyes.

"I meant it, you know," he says. "We'd make a cute couple."

I feel my face heat. At first, I'd been worried he was just curious—using me to test-drive a new identity—but now I'm not sure. He's so earnest and wholehearted about everything he does, I feel like it's unfair not to take him seriously.

"What do you say? Will you be my date for the wedding?" he asks, catching my hand.

I can't help grinning at that thought. "I don't think Dylan would like that very much," I say.

He steps closer, so I'm trapped with my back against the door. "Who cares? It's not just his wedding you know. It's Belle's wedding, too, and I know she'd love it—she'd think it was romantic as fuck, like a Jane Austen novel or something—the siblings from one family falling in love with the siblings from another..."

My mind snags on the phrase 'falling in love,' and when his eyes go to my mouth, I discover it's hopelessly entangled.

"I like kissing you," he announces, eyes flicking back up to meet mine. "Can I kiss you again?"

I look over his shoulder to where the others are already working at moving a large sofa into a new position against one wall. They all seem to be concentrating on their task, but every once in awhile I see Dylan's eyes dart towards me.

I'm playing with fire, and I'll probably pay for it, but I don't care. Isaac's honesty, the way he lives his own truth, inspires me to at least try to break free of my fear and live mine.

"Sure," I say, and his eyes light up as he leans closer; but I press my palm against his chest, holding him back. "Not now, though. Later."

"You're gonna make me wait?" he whines. "Really?"

A smile slips free of my control and I see something melt behind his eyes. He's so reactive it's almost fun.

"Yep. You have to wait." My amusement fades as I go on. "Think about it, though, okay? If you still want to kiss me later, the next time you ask me, I'm all yours."

His smile turns to a smirk. "You think I don't know what I want, don't you? Alright, fine. But I'll tell you this, Felix Monroe: I wanted to kiss you the day I met you, and every day since for the last two weeks, and I'll bet you anything that I'll still want to kiss you next week, and the week after that, and the week after that, and—"

"Alright, alright," I laugh, covering his mouth with my hand. "I believe you. I'll see you later."

I slip out the door before he can stop me or say anything more.

"I'll be waiting!" he shouts after me, laughter lacing his voice.

My smile stays with me all the way to my car. It's only when I drive away, leaving the sphere of Isaac's cheerful and protective influence that darker thoughts start to creep back in.

Isaac will be waiting—sure—but so will Dylan. Then again, maybe hearing the way Isaac defended us to his friends with fearless honesty will change his mind. After all, if Isaac's friends can accept him, why can't my own brother accept me?