“Devin! My favorite child, even more handsome and loving than Emmett. How are you doing tonight, love?”

“Emmett is sitting right next to you, isn’t he, Mom?” I cradled my phone between my shoulder and my ear, sitting back on my bed to look out the window at the sunset, the sky fading from blue to orange to pink.

“No such thing,” Mom said, “If Emmett were here he’d certainly be helping me change the lightbulb in the garage and not sitting next to me on his cell phone.”

“Ma, I told you I’ll do it after dinner,” I heard Emmett say in the background.

“Sorry I’m missing dinner tonight,” I said. “Emmett told me you’re making the green chili mac and cheese?”

“I am indeed. Raspberry crumble for dessert.”

“Damn. I really am sorry I’m not coming tonight.”

“It’s okay, Dev, I’ll be sure to make liver and onions next time you come. With a side of banana cream doughnuts.”

“Those are fighting words, Mom. You know I’d rather eat a muddy boot than a banana.”

“What’s this I hear about you have something amazing to tell me? First Betty from the market said I should talk to you, and now Emmett told me something happened?”

I grinned. “You’re never gonna believe it.”

“What? Have you finally decided you want to take that cross-country trip with me? We can get a big old van, hang tapestries inside, light incense—”

“No, thank you,” I said. “That’s something you and Dad are going to have to do on your own, I’m sorry to say.”

She sighed. “Okay, then, if the surprise isn’t that, or that you’re adopting a baby, or that you’ve won the lottery and are giving ninety million to us, then it isn’t what I thought. What’s up?”

“Someone came back to town,” I said, pausing to let my mother think.

“Uh huh… okay….”

“Someone we hadn’t seen in years, but who we used to see all the time.”

“Oh, my God! Is Bruce Springsteen playing shows at the university again? And we didn’t hear about it?!”

“No, no, no, Mom,” I said, laughing. “Russ is back.”

“Russ Dalton?”

“Russ Dalton.”

She paused for a long moment, which was not the reaction I had been expecting.

“Mom, are you silently mouthing words at Emmett right now? I can hear you breathing. I know you, Ma.”

After another moment she spoke again. “What? Oh, no, honey, I’m—wow. Russ Dalton came back? And… you’ve seen him?”

“Of course I’ve seen him. He’s actually staying with me for a few days since his bed got destroyed.”

“Wow,” she repeated.

My mom was not an easily surprised woman. She was typically fairly in touch for a woman her age, and she was an artist, so she kept up with things that normally only young people would know. She had been beyond supportive when I told her I was gay.

So I definitely wasn’t expecting her to act so shocked when I just told her my friend had moved back to Rose Falls.

“Well,” she finally said, “You’ll have to invite him over for dinner. I know he likes the creamed spinach, and oh, he used to eat those orange-glazed ribs right up. I can make some things I know he’ll like. Did he move back with his wife?”

“Wife? What?”

“That girl he moved to California for.”

Jesus. I’d already half-forgotten he’d ever been on track to have a wife.

“No. He’s single, and he’s actually trying to date guys right now.”

“Oh,” my mom said, her tone changing dramatically. “Um, hold on one second, let me step outside.”

I knew she was going outside because she was about to tell me something that she didn’t want to say in front of my brother, and immediately that worried me.

“Devin,” she said in a low tone, once I’d heard the back door of the house swing shut. “You do not let that boy hurt you.”

I let out a long sigh. “Jesus, Mom, what do you even think is—”

“It’s wonderful that he’s back,” she interrupted me, “and it’s wonderful that he’s exploring his sexuality. Tell him I said congratulations. But he broke your trust, Dev. You always did like him way too much.”

“Oh, God, give me a break, I can handle myself. I’m an adult. But thank you for your advice.”

“Of course. That’s all I’m going to say on the matter, and I’m not going to bring it up again. But yes, sure, absolutely bring him for dinner next time, and I do hope he is doing well.”

I knew my mom was just looking out for me, but I couldn’t help the irritation from sneaking into my mood. My mom was now the second person who’d told me to watch out with Russ, and probably the third person to think it—Emmett probably felt the same way but was too proud to tell me.

What did they think was going to happen?

“Actually, tonight I helped him get ready for a hot date,” I said. “He looked amazing.”

“Well, that’s lovely,” she said. “I hope he has a good time.” It was clear that my mom was done talking about it.

We talked a while longer about my mom’s latest projects around the house and caught up with each other about the latest season of Sherlock, which we were both obsessed with.

As we were wrapping up the phone call, I heard a sudden crash in my kitchen.

“Shit,” I said, “Mom, I’ve gotta go, I think the cat might have just climbed into my kitchen cabinets.”

“Cat?” she asked. “You have a cat now?”

I crossed the room and opened my bedroom door, staring down the hallway. “Oh. Uh, yes and no. Listen, I’ll talk to you about it later. Have a good night, Mom.”

“Alrighty. Bye, sweetie.”

I paced out to the kitchen expecting to see Pepper in a state of frenzy, but instead, I yelped slightly when I saw Russ still standing in the kitchen, hunched over and cleaning up a few shards of ceramic.

“Sorry,” he said. “I dropped one of the plates.”

“What are you still doing here? Jesus, didn’t you leave for your date a half hour ago? Scared the shit out of me.”

Russ finished collecting the shards from the floor and stood up, letting out a long breath. His face was slightly pained, searching mine.

“I was walking up to the Promenade when I got a text from Shane saying he was sorry, but he couldn’t make it. I called him and he began describing in explicit detail how he’d been puking all day, how many times he had puked, what the contents of it was—”

“Oh, Lord,” I said, holding up a hand and wincing. “Too much information. Stop.”

“You’re telling me,” Russ said, carefully wrapping the broken plate in paper towels and then putting it in the trash. “So yeah, my date is off.”

“I’m sorry, Russ, that sucks,” I said. “I thought for sure you and he would be walking in the sunset by now, arm in arm.”

He snorted. “If by ‘walking in the sunset’ you mean ‘sitting on the bathroom floor while he retches,’ then sure.”

“What, that’s not your idea of a fun first date?”

“Sorry, but no. I like to keep all puking to the third date.”

I laughed, helping him check for any more debris from the broken plate. After we finished, my eyes lingered on him a while as he washed his hands—his ass looked incredible in his pants.

He turned to me, and I almost jumped, my cheeks growing hot wondering if he’d seen me staring.”

“Anyway,” he said with a shrug, “I’m free now, do you want to catch a movie or something? They’re playing that new Ryan Gosling movie.”

“I wish. I’ve got that party over by the college,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It’s like this artsy, pre-Halloween, raucous dance party my old art major friends hold every year.”

“Oh, yeah. You did tell me about that. Sorry, I was so nervous about the date I kind of spaced out everything other than that today,” Russ said.

“No worries. The party is really just an excuse for people to act like they have no responsibilities again for one night like they did back in school. Except now the party starts at eight o’clock instead of eleven like it used to.”

“Guess I probably wouldn’t fit in there at all, huh?” Russ asked quietly, running a hand through his hair.

I hitched up one shoulder in a shrug. “I mean… you’d certainly be welcome there, and you’d definitely be hit on there,” I said. “But I highly doubt it would be your kind of scene.”

“Why not?”

“Um… are you into lots of sloppy drunk people, grinding on the dance floor under strobe lights like in college, trying to forget that they’re now adults with responsibilities?”

“Sounds like it could be fun.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Are you serious?” Russ had never been remotely interested in parties during college—I’d tried to drag him along with me plenty of times, but it had been a crapshoot. “I seem to remember you making fun of me in college when I tried to invite you to things.”

“I never made fun of you,” he said, leaning against the kitchen counter and grinning at me.

“You definitely did,” I said. “I remember once I was going to a house party down on Wooddale street and you said you’d rather eat rusty nails.”

“That’s just because Wooddale is laughably far away from anywhere we usually were,” he said. “I would have partied with you, but you stopped inviting me at some point.”

I paused for a moment, clicking my tongue in my mouth. I looked him up and down, in the outfit I’d helped him pick for his fancy date—he was in a silk tie, a collared shirt, and nice slacks with leather shoes.

“Okay,” I finally said. “Fine. You can come tonight if you want. But you sure as hell aren’t wearing that.”

“Too formal?”

“Too hot,” I said. I blushed slightly as I realized the double meaning that my words could have construed. “Not sexy hot—I mean—temperature-wise hot. This is going to be a lot of people dancing, tightly packed, in a dark room. Trust me, you’re going to want to be in a T-shirt.”

Russ laughed and crossed in front of me to head back to the guest room. He turned to look at me before entering.

“What’s wrong, you don’t think I look ‘sexy hot,’ Dev?” he laughed.

“I—uh—” I started, my face screaming hot. “You look… good. Just go change.”

The door to his room finally closed and I turned to the sink, splashing a little cold water on my face.

This was certainly going to be weird.

I usually went to this type of party only once or twice a year, and it was the one time I allowed myself to fully indulge in guiltless, casual hookups. Sometimes that only meant dancing close with a guy and maybe making out a little in a drunken stupor, other times it had meant sex.

But either way, it was typically something I did on my own, had a lot of fun, and kept separate from the rest of my life.

Tonight Russ would be there, though, and I had no idea what to expect from that. I didn’t know if I’d feel comfortable hooking up with another guy in front of him.

When he came out of the guest room in a tight black T-shirt and dark denim jeans, I had to work not to ogle him yet again.

“Okay, yeah, that’s… definitely going to work,” I said.

“Up to snuff? Sexy-hot, but not temperature-hot?”

“Very much so,” I said, gathering my keys and wallet. “This place is maybe a twenty-minute walk away. I’m definitely not driving, I plan on drinking far too much for that.”

“Good plan.”

I paused, meeting his eyes. “…You sure you’re ready for this?”

“Oh, come on, Devin. Give it a rest. You act like I’ve never been to something like this before. You keep telling me to meet a guy—maybe I’ll meet a guy here. You never know.”

I chuckled. “Oh, you’ll meet guys, alright,” I said. “You’re probably going to have to fight them off with a stick.”

“I was thinking more that I’d reel them in with a stick.”

“Jesus, Russ,” I said. “Didn’t know you were gonna take it there. But, sure, okay, guys everywhere will be magnetically attracted to your magic cock.”

“Don’t be jealous, Dev,” he said. “You’ve never seen me in action. I have… game.”

“I’ll bet,” I said.

“C’mon,” he said, as we walked out my front door. “You’d want me, right?”

“What?”

“I mean—” he said, “—like, if we weren’t friends, obviously.”

“Sure, Russ,” I said, “If we weren’t friends I’d fuck you all night long.”

When I looked up at him again he was staring at me like a deer in headlights. Shit, I thought, did my joke offend him?

I rolled my eyes, letting out a too-loud laugh. “That would be a fucking nightmare, wouldn’t it?” I said.

I fumbled with my keys, trying and failing to find the right one to lock the front door. He said nothing for a long while, just standing next to me, watching me struggle.

“Yeah,” he finally said, “Total nightmare.”

Jesus. I’d already colossally put my foot in my mouth, and I was still sober, for God’s sake.

As we walked to the party, every silence felt way too long and uncomfortable. Had I made Russ feel weird? Was he too nice to tell me that I’d gone way too far with my comment?

Only one thing kept running through my mind: if we could just make it to the party and get a couple drinks in us, maybe the awkwardness would fade.

It was fine.

I’d drank with Russ countless times before, and tonight would be no exception.

All I had to do was pretend I didn’t want him at all.

* * *

“Vodka, vodka, vodka, I think this is gin, whiskey, vodka, whiskey, and then all the mixers you’ll ever need.” The girl standing by the makeshift bar in the house kitchen splayed her arms out in front of the table, showing us everything there was on offer. “Oh, and pumpkin beer, obviously.”

“This really is like a college party,” Russ said, reaching for one of the whiskey bottles. “I’m surprised there isn’t a plastic tub filled with some sort of jungle juice with dubious origin.”

“Ah, jungle juice. That lovely elixir that reminds me of youth, vibrancy, and days spent so hungover I could barely move,” I said. “I’ll take some whiskey, too. I think it’s a good night for Jack ‘n’ Cokes.”

“You’re not having a pumpkin beer?”

“I would love a pumpkin beer, but no. I’m going all out.”

“Whiskey it is.” Russ poured the brown liquor for both of us in two red Solo cups and started drinking his down right away.

“Woah,” I said, “Going for it straight, huh?”

“I sure hope not. I’d rather go for it gay, tonight.” He winked at me.

“You know what I meant.”

The corner of his mouth crooked up in a half-grin. “You said you’re going all out tonight, so I am, too.”

I mixed my whiskey with Coke and tilted my plastic cup toward his. “Cheers.”

The house was actually fairly nice, considering the circumstances. It was an old, three-story home, complete with a nice front deck and an ample backyard. The owner was a friend-of-a-friend, but I’d been to the house a few times for other parties. I’d seen a few people so far that I knew from college, but luckily it looked like most of the people were folks I’d never even met.

The living room was large and would have seemed almost stately if it hadn’t been turned into the dance room. There were high ceilings, and a DJ playing dance music, and it was already loud enough that it could be heard reverberating down the block. People gathered on the front lawn, in every room of the house, and the back lawn, chatting and laughing with an energy they reserved for nights like this.

For a college town on a Saturday night, it wasn’t atypical at all.

As we made our way toward the backyard, Russ tapped me on the shoulder and leaned in close. “Who’s that?” he said, nodding over at a guy leaning against the wall in the kitchen.

“The guy with the black hair? That, I believe, is Mark Atello. He used to date this guy I knew a few years ago, but I’m pretty sure he’s single. You interested in him?”

Russ shrugged. “I haven’t talked to the guy yet, so I certainly don’t know if I’m interested. But he’s the only person here who looks like he isn’t already hooking up with someone else.”

“You should give it a shot,” I said. “Need me to be a wingman?”

He shook his head, breathing deep. “I’ll try on my own. Find you later?”

“Sounds good.”

I watched for a moment as Russ walked over to Mark, but before staring for too long I averted my eyes and walked out into the yard. I shouldn’t have been affected by Russ doing the one thing he was supposed to be doing tonight, anyway—meeting guys—but for some reason, I wished he could have just stayed by my side.

I made my rounds at the party, saying hello to people out in the yard and getting caught up in some conversations about gossip in the art scene. It was more of the same, and it seemed like people always gossiped about the same ten people in the art world, but it was at least a distraction from thinking about Russ.

For all I knew, he was already making out with Mark Atello in some bedroom upstairs. Not that it was any of my business.

After a half hour, I made my way back into the kitchen and got another drink. I didn’t see Russ and Mark in there anymore, and immediately I felt as though that confirmed my suspicions.

Good for him. Maybe Russ had found someone.

As I poured myself another drink, making sure to add double the whiskey that Russ had given me in the last one, I felt a sweaty arm drape around me.

“Devvy,” I heard a voice slur, and immediately I knew who it was.

“Taylor,” I said, turning to greet the last guy I had hooked up with casually, months ago, at a party pretty much just like this one.

“What brings you here tonight?”

Taylor was young. Probably twenty-four. He was sexy and had more than his fair share of hookups in town. He was a partier, through and through, and tonight, he was thriving in his environment. His hair was blonde with one big blue streak that matched his eyes perfectly.

“To be honest, I just felt obligated to come,” I said, not in the mood to mince words. I gulped down a big sip of my drink. Jesus, I had made it too strong.

Taylor let out a peal of laughter. “Aww, Devvy, you’re no fun. I know you came to dance with me, right?”

“Maybe later. I don’t know.”

“Hey,” he said, making a mock pout. “I know we had fun before, right?” He reached out a hand to my chest, slowly dragging a finger down my torso. Clearly, he was in the mood to fuck tonight.

I considered it, for a brief moment: if Russ was having fun tonight, why couldn’t I? Taylor was good in bed and a fun person, so logically there should have been no reason why I wouldn’t want him.

But for some reason, I couldn’t imagine being in bed with him tonight.

I gently grabbed his wrist and guided his hand away from me. “Yeah, we had a good time before. But I’m kinda not looking for anything like that tonight.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, looking me up and down. “Okay. You can find me later tonight if your opinion on that changes, sweetie.” Taylor floated out of the kitchen toward the backyard, giving me a little wave as he went.

As I was swallowing another far-too-big sip of my drink, Russ entered the kitchen, heading for the drink table.

“You on drink number two?” I asked as he approached.

“Three,” he said. “You need to catch up, apparently.” His face looked crestfallen like he’d narrowly escaped some bad situation.

“Jesus, you don’t fuck around,” I said.

“I usually don’t drink very much, but when I do, I go for it,” he said. He glanced over his shoulder, checking to make sure that no one else was in earshot. “And I sure as hell am having a lot more fun now that I’m talking to you instead of that Mark guy.”

I tried to hide my smile in my cup as I took another drink. It was awful, really; I shouldn’t have been glad that Russ failed to connect with the guy, but I was so glad to hear him say he was happy to be around me. I forced my face into a neutral expression as I lowered my cup from my mouth.

“No dice with Mark?”

“Apparently the only thing Mark wants to talk about is… Mark. I tried to ask him what movies he’s seen lately. He said he made his own movie, a two-hour visual study that was recordings of him, nude, performing tasks like doing the dishes.”

I nodded.

“Then when I asked him what he likes to do for fun, he said he enjoys working on his personal brand.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Dev, I have no clue. But when he found out my job, he next told me that he thinks doctors and the entire medical profession are evil and that bodies are all self-healing, and I had to get out of there.”

“Jesus. Wow, okay. I’m sure we can find you a better guy here.”

Russ sighed deeply, meeting my eyes. “I don’t know. I’m not holding out hope right now. Something tells me I’m standing right next to the best guy at this party now, though.”

I felt myself flush, and I hoped to God it just looked like it was from the alcohol. Lord, he was gorgeous, and even if he was flattering me, it was working. I felt like my whole world had gotten brighter since he’d come back in the room.

“Let me top off my drink, and let’s go out in the backyard?” I said. “Take a breather?”

“Or…” he started.

“Or?”

“You… can do a shot with me right now, and then we can go dance,” Russ said, staring at me like it was a challenge.

I crooked one eyebrow up. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Am I? C’mon, it’s a party.”

I considered it.

It was a terrible idea, of course; I knew full well that if we danced together, all I’d be able to think about would be the movement of his body, the sway of his hips, the inevitable conclusion that I’d fucking love to know what it was like to go to bed with him. It couldn’t end well, and it would just end up making me feel lonelier in the end.

But Russ was right. It was a party. I was already feeling tipsy. And a big part of me didn’t care if it was a terrible idea.

I puffed out a laugh. “Wow, you really are going all out tonight. But… sure. Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

I could feel the alcohol swimming inside me, and I knew that after a shot of whiskey I was going to be comfortably buzzed, if not almost drunk.

“How much do you want to bet we’re gonna regret this tomorrow?” he said, pouring hefty shots.

“We definitely will,” I said. “Now let’s fucking do it.”