Freddie’s delivery was for much later that evening — around seven, for a twenty-first birthday party. Freddie had assumed from the order he’d received that it would be a chaperoned event, and his client was a parent looking to throw their child a party to remember for their big birthday.

Instead, Freddie arrived at the house to find it already buzzing with young adults, music blasting from every open window. It wasn’t a sloppy party — not yet — but despite the sophisticated house and the neatly manicured lawn, there was a sense of chaos to it that screamed youth. As he brought box upon box of cupcakes through the door and to the refreshments table, Freddie found himself missing his younger days, when the hardest choices in life were whether he had to spend some extra time studying for his next exam, or if he could afford to party all night.

There wasn’t an older adult in sight.

Young women in low-cut tops and short jeans walked by, some of them looking his way and giggling to their friends. Young men congregated in groups, their conversations loud, and their laughter even louder. Freddie finished unloading the cupcakes and was about to leave when someone grabbed his arm. He looked over his shoulder to find a strapping young man standing there. He had Hollywood good looks, all smiles, and his eyes were a heart-breaking clear blue.

“Hey,” the young man said. He was baby-faced, and maybe a little drunk. “You’re Freddie the cupcake guy, right?”

“That’s me,” Freddie said. He was mildly astonished that someone so young knew of him. He wouldn’t have known any food service providers at his age. “What can I do for you.”

“I’m Chris,” the young man said. He released Freddie’s arm to hold out his hand for a shake. “Your client and the birthday boy himself... the one who ordered about a million cupcakes for the sweetest twenty-first birthday party Georgia’s ever seen.”

The order had come in without a sample session first. It was unusual, but it happened from time to time, especially with clients who’d already tasted his cupcakes at other events. Freddie hadn’t thought much of it, but he was floored that someone so young had spent several hundred dollars on desserts.

“I just wanted to say, thanks for coming all the way out to Kenton tonight to deliver those cupcakes. I had them a while ago at my grandpa’s surprise eightieth, and I knew I needed to put them on the menu for my big day.”

“You planned all this yourself?” Freddie asked.

“Yup.” Chris grinned. “Well, I handed off probably half the work to a party planner, if I’m being honest. I was thinking of flying out to LA to do it there, but I decided against it. I figured if people wanted to come out for my birthday, they could make the effort, you know? Flying is way too much hassle for me.”

Freddie didn’t have the whole picture, but he nodded along like he understood, anyway.

“Anyway, the details aren’t important. What’s important is that you’re here, you brought cupcakes, and life is awesome.” Chris’ grin grew. “You know, you’re a lot younger than I imagined you’d be. When my aunt told me that she’d hired a Freddie to cater the dessert table, I thought it’d be some chick, you know? They’re always putting that cutesie “ie” on the end of masculine names these days. I thought maybe it was something like that, or just someone old, like a grandpa.” He shrugged. “But you’re young. Like, what, thirty?”

“I’m twenty-nine,” Freddie said.

“Yeah, shit, you’re young.” Chris laughed. “I know you don’t know anyone here, and maybe it’s weird for you, but you should stay for a while, man. Come party with us. I’ve got beer on tap, and I’ve got some friends running a bar in the kitchen. They’ll fix you anything you want. I made sure we were wet for tonight.”

Freddie didn’t think he was totally out of touch, but it felt very much like Chris was speaking another language.

“And if you want something else to take the edge off, I’ve got some friends who can help you out with that, too,” Chris said. “Come have a good time for a while! You put in a lot of work with this order, I’ll bet. Just, you know, come chill. Take a load off. You did a terrific job.”

Freddie considered politely declining and heading back home to Prescott. He’d make the half hour drive home, crawl into bed, and get up before the crack of dawn to do it all over again. The cycle would repeat, he’d still be short on cash, and Reagan Ann would grow a little more distant from him while he toiled away in the kitchen.

It felt so hopeless. He had to break the cycle.

“I... yeah. I wouldn’t mind staying.”

“Amazing!” Chris lit up, his eyes kind. “You know, if you ever want to be in one of my videos, you should stop on by sometime. You ever thought about starting a YouTube channel?”

“No.”

“You’ve got the face for it.” Chris squinted at him. “Not sure that you’ve got the charisma, but that’s something you can work on. Genetics aren’t as easy to develop, you know? We should hang out sometime, shoot some sketches, and see what happens. Dude, you could do a cooking channel. How awesome would that be?” Chris clapped a hand to his knee and laughed like he’d just figured it all out. Freddie didn’t know what to make of him. “God, I should introduce you to SweetCheeks and SugarGirl. They know the market pretty well. I bet there’d be some viewers hungry for an attractive guy baking cupcakes and shit. Let me see if I can find them, okay? You go have fun in the kitchen. Get something to drink and relax! I’ll be back soon.”

Freddie had no idea what he’d gotten himself into, but he decided to roll with it. Chris disappeared into the crowd, and once he was gone, Freddie navigated his way through the house to the kitchen. The place was huge — probably close to four thousand square feet, if he had to guess — and tastefully decorated. It was meticulously clean, or had been, before the party rolled in. Freddie got the impression that Chris lived here by himself, and that the YouTube channel he’d been talking about had paid for everything.

It boggled Freddie’s mind to think that he was only twenty-one.

He found the kitchen before long. Like Chris had said, there were a few men manning the alcohol in the kitchen. They’d converted the breakfast bar into a wet bar, and drinks were flowing. Freddie made his way through the crowd, and before he could so much as ask for a drink, one of the guys behind the bar poured one and pushed the cup into his hand.

“Hey!” a young woman nearby said to him. The music was louder here, and she had to raise her voice to be heard. “You look familiar. Who are you?”

“Freddie the cupcake guy,” Freddie said, as he stepped back from the bar, a little overwhelmed.

“Huh. I’ll have to look you up! You’re kind of cute.”

The compliment helped boost his ego, but it wasn’t the kind of comfort Freddie was looking for. He sipped at his drink, and the alcohol went down like juice. This was a break from his regular life, and maybe it was just what he needed, but he couldn’t help but feel like Luke should have been there with him, enjoying the ridiculousness of it all.

The first drink went down, then another. Chris didn’t return, but Freddie found himself swept up in conversation with a young man who called himself Spratz and the young woman who’d called him cute. By the third drink, Freddie wasn’t following the conversation quite as well anymore, but he was laughing far more often and having a good time.

By the fifth drink, it became painfully obvious that he couldn’t drive. He’d thought the alcoholic content in each drink wasn’t all that high, since they’d gone down so smoothly. He’d been wrong. At the end of drink five, Freddie had melted into a puddle on one of the kitchen chairs in the corner of the spacious room as the party went on around him. He was more drunk than he could remember ever having been before.

And with nowhere to hide from his thoughts, they haunted him.

You made a mistake.

Why aren’t you calling him?

Maybe you won’t mess anything up if you don’t get in touch with him, but if you never try, your situation will never change.

Freddie folded his arms on the table and rested his head on them. He closed his eyes.

He needed to go home, but there was no one who could take him. He didn’t know anyone at the party, and Prescott was half an hour away, anyway. Aaron was at home, sleeping for work the next day, and Freddie didn’t think he could call on Natalie or any of his cousins. He didn’t want to disturb them.

There was only one person he wanted to disturb.

He fished his phone out of his pocket clumsily and sent Luke a text.

I’m so drunk and I miss you and please come get me. I can’t get home.

The response was almost instant. Where are you?

Kenton. Freddie stared at the message for a second, then followed it up with Chris’ exact address.

I’m on my way. Give me forty minutes.

That seemed reasonable. That seemed more than reasonable. Freddie smiled at his phone, feeling stupid for how happy he felt. Then he sank back down onto his arms and told himself he’d rest there for forty minutes, just long enough that he wouldn’t have to wait long outside for Luke to show up.

He woke up thirty seconds later when someone shook his shoulder.

“Wha?” Freddie lifted his head to find Luke standing there. He blinked a few times, unsure what to think. “Did you teleport?”

“You really are gone, huh?” Luke stroked his cheek, and Freddie was certain he had to be dreaming. “What have you been drinking? And what are you doing here, of all places? Let’s get you home.”

Luke helped Freddie up from where he was sitting. Freddie’s knees were a lot weaker than he remembered them being, and the floor was a lot more uneven. He leaned against Luke as he walked. Luke kept a protective arm around him. He was warm and comfortable, and he smelled so damned good.

“You’re going to feel this in the morning,” Luke chuckled as they made their way through the front door. They took the steps one by one, but Freddie’s perception was shot, and each step made him feel like he was rushing down a steep peak of a roller coaster ride. By the time he arrived on the path heading to the street, he was so nauseated that he couldn’t keep going. He pushed away from Luke and stumbled to the side of the stairs, right into the garden. He doubled over, hoping that if he lowered his center of gravity, he could keep himself from toppling over. Instead, his stomach emptied itself, and he purged his five drinks all over the topiary.

Luke rubbed his back, coming out of nowhere to offer support. “That’s okay. Get it out. That’s a great way not to feel it in the morning. Puke now, avoid the hangover later. That’s it.”

Freddie wanted to laugh, but it only made him sicker. His stomach clenched, and acidic bile shot up his throat. He let it go as Luke rubbed his back affectionately.

“I wish you would have called me before it got this bad,” Luke said. “You didn’t need to drink yourself sick, Freddie. All you needed to do was call me. We could have talked.”

Freddie felt better. He didn’t think he was at risk of being sick anymore. Carefully, he stood up straight. There was a foul taste in his mouth, but no way to get it out.

“There’s water in my car,” Luke said. “I brought a pillow and a blanket, too, since I figured you’d probably be in a bad state.”

“How did you know?” Freddie asked. He blinked a few times, trying to understand, but his mind was still hazy.

“It’s kind of written all over your face.” Luke pulled him close again, and they started to walk together. Freddie leaned on him, depending on him for stability. “Don’t worry about it, though. I’m not judging you. Everyone needs to be reckless sometimes, don’t they?”

Freddie had no answer for that. He let Luke lead him to the street. They walked half a block to get back to Luke’s car. Freddie had never been more relieved to see a vehicle in his life.

Luke brought him around to the passenger side. He helped Freddie sit. Freddie strapped himself in, and while he did, Luke pulled a pillow out of the back seat and propped it behind Luke’s head. The comfort was unreal, and Freddie let his head loll back into it. It smelled vaguely of Luke. That small detail made him way more happy than it should have.

Luke followed up by tucking him beneath a blanket, then closed the door. Freddie watched him as he walked around the car and sat in the driver seat. Luke started the car.

“All right, young man,” Luke chided. “You’ve overdone it. It’s time to get you home.”

“No.” Freddie closed his eyes. That wasn’t what he wanted, and he knew it. “I don’t... I don’t want to go home. Not now. Reagan Ann is with Aaron, and the house is empty. I don’t want to be lonely. Take me back home with you. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Luke hesitated. For a second, Freddie was sure he was about to shoot him down — but Luke didn’t say anything. He pulled away from the curb, and they drove off into the night.

The repetitive light and dark cycle as they passed beneath streetlights was too much for Freddie to bear. He closed his eyes, and it wasn’t long before his breathing slowed and his thoughts grew sluggish. His last conscious thoughts before sleep claimed him were positive and hopeful. Luke was back. Now all he had to do was apologize, and his world could be made right again.