Reading this book felt like uncovering a hidden treasure. The raw, poetic prose instantly pulled me into Ari's world—his anger, confusion, and quiet loneliness resonated deeply. I found myself nodding along as he grappled with questions about identity, family, and the messy transition into adulthood.

The friendship between Ari and Dante is the soul of this story. Their dynamic—Ari's brooding intensity vs. Dante's poetic vulnerability—created this electric tension that kept me turning pages. That pool scene where they first meet? I could practically smell the chlorine and feel the Texas sun on my skin.

What surprised me most was how the parents became my favorite characters. Ari's dad with his unspoken war trauma, his mom with her secret grief—their quiet struggles added layers to Ari's journey. When his father finally breaks his silence? I had to put the book down to wipe my eyes.

The 1987 setting added nostalgic texture without overpowering the timeless themes. As someone who grew up feeling 'different,' Ari's internal monologue mirrored thoughts I'd never dared voice aloud. That moment when he realizes why Dante's smile makes his stomach flip? Absolute perfection.

Finished it in two sleepless nights, then immediately reread my favorite passages. The sequel can't come soon enough—I need to know what happens next to these beautifully flawed characters who feel more real than some people I know.