"What's your mom going to say about you fraternizing so much with the Borstad boys," Gunnar winks at me as he passes Rune the joint they're sharing, "I'm sure our bad habits are starting to rub off on you."

Pot is Gunnar's preferred method of dealing with his ADHD brain (though he never smokes in front of Lorelei but relies on gummies). Friday night, we're sprawled in a circle on the canvas chairs on the Borstad back deck as we did as kids, around a small stone fire pit Gunnar built. Our long legs are almost touching. Lorelei went to bed hours ago. She was glued to her father's side all evening but finally couldn't stay awake any longer.

"My lips are sealed," I say after another sip of beer, "My mother has no idea of the depth of the infiltration. She just knows Rune escorted me to that fundraiser in June to make Jack jealous. Her only comment was that it was good that Rune was so in the closet." I don't mention my mother and Pamela trying to strong arm me into convincing Rune to be Pamela's client. That's something I wish I could forget.

Gunnar chokes on his beer, pounding his chest with his fist as he laughs and coughs, "Jack's a self-important asshat," he says, "I'm glad Ruination taught him a lesson."

"You know who that information comes from," Rune tells him, with a smirk as he takes back the joint again.

The cousins do bear a strong resemblance. I can understand Jack thinking they were brothers. Gunnar's jaw is squarer than Rune's under his short-cropped beard (I remember Rune's disparaging remark about his own jaw recently), his lips aren't nearly as full but have a similar shape, and his hair is the wheat-colored Rune's used to be dyed. He always wears it long enough to be scraped back in a short ponytail.

"Sure, it's one of Franklin's many fables," Gunnar says darkly, shaking his head, "I should have clocked that monster when I had the chance."

"I wish," Rune scowls, exhaling a cloud, "Gunn, you forgot we're beautiful; Shell's mom calls us the Beautiful Borstad Boys," he says, offering me the joint. I pass on it. One hit of whatever was in it was more than enough for me.

"Too right," Gunnar agrees and they click their beer bottles.

"Oh God, did Syd tell you about that?" I groan, feeling my happy, tipsy feelings dissipate.

"Rune, you forgot blue collar," Gunnar tells him, "We're the Beautiful Blue Collar Borstad Boys," he says with a flourish, saluting us both with his beer bottle. It's interesting to be reminded that Gunnar is the more gregarious and outgoing of the two.

"My mom can be such a snob," I lament.

"That's one way to say it," Gunnar laughs after his next toke, "I might use stronger language."

"Okay, go ahead and say it," I encourage him. "Express your true feelings."

"Your mother, dear Shelby, and I say this with the utmost love in my heart for you as my best neighbor ever," Gunnar says as if he's performing in a Shakespearean play, pointing the joint at me for emphasis, "Is a class one bitch."

"Here, here," Rune toasts him with his bottle, which makes me giggle and sigh. I wish I could say the same thing out loud, but I'd feel too disloyal.

Gunnar's been regaling us with his and Jenna's adventures from Maui tonight since everything was focused on Lorelei earlier. He did better than he thought he would in the race, and the house he just finished the upgrades on is stunning. We've been admiring pics on his phone.

While we catch up, I've been daydreaming about what kind of coloring page I would draw featuring Gunnar and Rune as Nordic gods. Gunnar would be Thor, of course, with his blond hair, glacial blue eyes, and more robust physique than Rune. Rune could be Frey, the twin of the better-known Freyja, the goddess of love. But what actress looks enough like Rune to be his twin?

"Shelby, you need to sign up for one of the DNA sites," Gunnar says apropos of nothing, "and finally put to rest the question of whether or not we're cousins."

This time, it's Rune who almost chokes on his beer.

"What?" I ask, shaken out of my daydream.

"Come on; you remember that story from Nan, don't you? That the Borstads and Halvorsens are related?" Gunnar asks, "I got Ancestry for Jenna last month for her birthday, and there was a buy one get one free deal, so I signed up too. Wouldn't it be cool to be able to prove it? I'd pay to see the look on your mother's face if it is."

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"We're not supposedly close cousins, are we?" Rune asks, raising his eyebrows at me as he takes another swig of beer. Gunnar takes in our worried expression and starts to laugh at us both.

"It's not so close that it would harm your gene pool," Gunnar's eyes twinkle as he strokes a hand over his beard, similar to the way Rune does, "In case you want to reverse that little operation we had. I think our great-great-grandmothers were sisters. That's why the Borstad's were willing to sell your house and a section of the farm to your family during the depression."

"I always wondered about that," Rune admits, returning the joint to Gunnar.

"Don't worry, you two can still get married here in the yard like Rune planned when he was eight," Gunnar assures us.

"I don't remember any marriage proposal," I say, narrowing my eyes at Gunnar and glancing at Rune, who's looking uncomfortable. Well, even if it was true then it's not the reality now.

"Oh, was that a secret I was supposed to keep?" Gunnar teases, "he had it all figured out, including the flowers in your bouquet."

"You crossed your heart," Rune comments dryly, "that's the last time I tell you anything important," Gunnar snorts at this and takes another drag.

Tongues are getting too loose now. I'm afraid of what I might blurt out if I keep sitting here drinking.

"All right, you smart, enviously successful beauties," I tell them as I stand and stretch, "it's way past my bedtime. Have a wonderful time with Lorelei Gunnar," I pat his shoulder briefly, "Rune, good luck with Raymond Santiago on Whidbey working on your podcast; we'll see you back here in a few weeks for your b-day," I tell him, proud of my casualness.

Rune also stands and follows me off the deck out into the night. I stop midway between our houses and look up, feeling my head spin a touch. Our two porch lights do little to dim the cacophony of stars brilliant above us in their blanket of black.

"Do you remember that last summer when your mom took us out into one of the empty horse pastures for a campout and taught us about the constellations?" I ask, awed by the reality of so many twinkles representing so many suns. There's no way we're the only life in the universe.

"Of course," Rune says, gazing up as well, "Even Syd and Gunnar came along, though it might have only been so they could climb into the same sleeping bag and have sex after everyone else was asleep."

"They weren't doing that, were they?" I ask, surprised. I knew they made out occasionally, but, um, wow.

"Seashell, I used to surprise them in the barn loft all the time in every manner of undress," he starts to laugh, "I'll forever be grateful to your sister for demonstrating how much women can enjoy having a man go down on them."

"You spied on them?" I exclaim, aghast.

"I didn't mean to," he's laughing so hard now, he has to speak in gasps in between, "You were off at a riding lesson or something without me. I wanted to sulk and read," he's bent over now, holding his stomach, it takes a minute before he can get out, "I was almost all the way up the ladder when I realized what I was witnessing. They were being very quiet."

"I can't believe Syd didn't kill you there and then!" I gasp, trying not to join him in laughing, but it's hard.

"She doesn't know," he says, shaking his head as if this will help calm him down. By this time, I'm laughing so hard that tears run down my face. "Gunnar saw me but just motioned for me to scram."

"You'd better never tell her," I tell Rune, "Or she will kill you."

"I'm sure," he agrees.

Our laughs finally die down, and we continue to my back porch. I turn back to him on the front step.

"What kind of cake do you want for your birthday?" I ask, "I'll make it." I like being the same height. He'd be even easier to kiss this way, but I'm not going there.

"Really?" He beams at me sunnily, and my heart leaps happily.

"Can you make white cake with berries and custard, like they do at Sweet Lady Jane's in LA? If that's not too hard?" he asks, naming a well-known bakery we both liked but never visited together. This is one of their most famous cakes.

"Yes," I tell him, surprised he doesn't want chocolate Texas cake, "No problem."

"Keep me posted on how Horse Girls is coming along," he says, stepping backward through the wet grass, "don't be a stranger."

"Will do," I tell him and wave. I make myself not linger. I remember that night in the horse field again as I slip quietly through the laundry room so I don't bother Butterscotch in her sleeping crate.

Gunnar wants to wait until they return from their camping trip for Jenna to give Lorelei the dog. The hope is it'll create more of a bond between the two women in his life. Fingers crossed, it works.

For years after that magical summer night, I always looked for Orion's belt and the Big and Little Dippers in the night sky whenever it was dark enough to see stars. Rune and I had our sleeping bags so close together that our hands would have touched if either of us dared to reach out. But neither of us did.

My pleasant but melancholy buzz is first replaced by regret and mortification. How could my mother be so snide and judgmental about Gunner and Rune?

Her excuse, why she warned Syd and me away from them between our summertime vacations, was that they were wasting themselves by not having ambitious college plans as we did. Rune always wanted to be an actor, and Gunnar was set to follow his father into carpentry.

Then I remember something that makes me stop dead in the living room as I'm about to go upstairs. Now I feel worse. Mom called Gunnar and Rune that nickname before we were old enough to give college much thought. Why?

The boys have always been competition in her eyes, Theo tells me sadly, if your mother's not the center of attention, she feels invisible.