Eight

ELEVEN MONTHS AGO

Lights pulse outside the bars in Boystown. It's a Saturday night during senior year. Daniel and I are heading to some house party in the neighborhood. It's the gay side of Chicago, if the name didn't already give it away, known mostly for its nightlife. We're too young to get into the actual clubs and bars, which is why I don't come here often. But I've heard a few wild stories, making me nervous about tonight. The apartment building is located behind an arcade lounge and a 7-Eleven.

"Shit."

Daniel pauses in the middle of the sidewalk, looking down at his phone. His face is illuminated by the orange streetlight, bringing out the freckles on his cheek. I'm hoping the party's been canceled so we can find something else to do together. Then Daniel turns abruptly, pointing across the street. "Alright, it's this way." He's never been good at giving directions. But miraculously we find the right building. It's an old greystone with a few beer bottles sticking out of the bushes. Daniel's phone keeps going off in his hand. I wonder who he's been talking to all night.

"Who are you texting?"

"Someone at the party," he says vaguely. "You don't know him."

I don't say anything. A second later, someone buzzes the door open. I follow Daniel into the building. The wallpaper is peeling from the corners, and there's a weird smell coming from the hallway.

I turn to Daniel. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

"I was here a few weeks ago."

Music carries through the stairwell, amplifying as we head to the second floor. I'm not sure what to expect from this party. At least I get to spend time with Daniel tonight. We don't have any classes together this semester, so I don't see him as much. This is the first time we've hung out in weeks. He's a somewhat bad texter, making him difficult to reach at times. Sometimes we'll go days without talking and then he'll show up to my house with food and a new movie to watch. I don't take it personally anymore, because I've grown used to it at this point.

We pass two guys making out against the wall and find the door marked 2G. It's where the music is coming from. Before either of us knock, Daniel turns to me and says, "Alright, let's go over this one more time. Remember, this is a college party. So don't mention where we go to school."

"What do I say if they ask?"

"Just tell them you're from out of town."

I nod. "Out of town. Got it."

What sounds like glass shatters inside, followed by laugh ter. I swallow down some nerves, feeling completely out of my element. I'm not very good at these social scenes, especially if I don't know anyone there. If it were up to me, we would be wandering around town instead, grabbing some fries, seeing a movie or something. Daniel is the extrovert, always surrounding himself with people. Sometimes I wish I could be more like him, making friends everywhere I go, holding conversations, going to a party without wanting to leave early. We're opposites this way. Maybe that's why he doesn't text me back sometimes.

I turn toward the door, bracing myself. But Daniel still hasn't knocked yet. That's when I notice him facing me. He stares at me for a moment. "You look… really good," he says. The compliment surprises me. He holds out a hand, feeling my collar between his fingers. "Is this shirt new?"

"Yeah… I just got it." It's a sky-blue polo, his favorite color. I was hoping he would notice it.

Then Daniel leans in, fixing my hair with his fingers. "Just a touch-up before we go in," he whispers. Standing this close, I get a whiff of his cologne. I press my lips together, feeling my cheeks go warm at his touch.

"Thanks," I breathe.

Daniel smiles as he leans back to inspect his work. "Perfect." Then he turns and knocks on the door. A few seconds later, some blond jock holding a red Solo cup opens the door. He takes one look at us and says, "You guys from DoorDash? Where the hell's the food?"

"We're friends with Leighton," Daniel says.

He eyes Daniel, as if deliberating something. Then he turns his head, looking me up and down. "Alright, you two can come in," he says, holding the door open.

I follow Daniel inside, music hitting my ears. I don't know how a room can fit so many guys at once. Everyone's in tank tops and shorts, illuminated under LED strips. The living room is so packed, you can barely make out a sofa. While it's nice being in a gay space for a change, it's hard not to notice we're the only nonwhite people in the room. I wonder what Daniel thinks about this. He's half Colombian, but he usually blends into a crowd because everyone assumes he's white, too.

The guy who opened the door brushes past us, winking at me before disappearing into a hallway. I give Daniel a nudge and whisper, "Did you just see that?"

"Relax, he's just into you."

"How would you know?"

"He let us in here, right?"

"And?"

"They don't just let everyone walk in," he explains. "They turn guys away all the time if they're not hot enough. It's a thing here."

"That's terrible." I shake my head, a bad taste in my mouth. Admittedly, part of me feels some sort of validation from the approval. But it's not something I would say out loud. I turn to Daniel again, noticing him scanning the room, looking for someone. "Who do you know here again?"

"My friend Leighton. It's his cousin's apartment."

"How do you know Leighton?"

"Another party," he says vaguely.

"Which party?"

Daniel doesn't hear the question. Or he's just ignoring me as he keeps looking around for his other friend. Then his eyes widen. "That's him right there—"

I turn my head as he appears through the crowd, wearing an orange polo. Dark blond hair and blue-green eyes, reminding me of the guy from the baseball team Daniel was into. I stand there as the two of them hug each other. To my relief, he's not much taller than me, maybe an inch and a half at most.

Daniel puts a hand on my shoulder. "This is my friend Eric," he says, giving me a squeeze. "Eric—this is Leighton."

Leighton holds out a hand. "Yeah, Daniel's mentioned you before."

He's never mentioned you. I'm not sure what to make of this. "Nice meeting you," I say, shaking his hand. It's a decent grip, but nothing to write home about. He has nice skin, though. I'm sure it's just the dim lighting in here.

"Leighton goes to North Side," Daniel says with an eye roll. They're our school's adversaries. "He's a senior, too. He's also into film."

"Photography," Leighton says. "But I've taken some film classes."

"You guys have a lot in common," Daniel says, nodding. "Leighton's also applying to Indiana."

Leighton smiles. "You're applying there, too? My brother goes there."

"He can help get me in," Daniel says.

"Imagine us all living together." Leighton shoves him playfully.

"That would be sick. But we'd get nothing done."

They both laugh. I say nothing. Daniel and I are supposed to be roommates together. Suddenly he's bringing in some guy I've never met before?

Leighton checks his phone. "I need to grab some ice for Vince," he says, looking at Daniel. "Wanna give me a hand? It's just down the street."

"Sure," Daniel says. Then he turns to me. "Mind waiting here for a sec?"

I give him a look. "You're leaving me?"

"Only for a few minutes."

"It's right down the corner," Leighton adds.

I glance at him and back at Daniel. We just got to the party. I don't know a single person here. But I don't want to appear annoying, especially in front of his other friend. "Yeah, I guess. I'll get us drinks while you're gone."

"We'll be right back," Daniel says. He offers a quick wave before following Leighton out the door.

I let out a breath, glancing around the room. Everyone is chatting in small circles, like their own lunch tables in a cafeteria. I feel like the new kid at school, looking around for an open seat. Maybe I'll get a drink to hold in my hand, so I'm not just standing here awkwardly. I snake through the living room until I find the bar by the window. I don't recognize half the bottles on the table. There's a punch bowl with fresh fruit inside. Are those kiwi slices? As I grab the ladle, someone speaks to me.

"I wouldn't drink that."

I glance up from the bowl. A guy with wispy brown hair stands on the other side of the table, holding a seltzer. He's wearing a gray shirt, and he's on the slim side, making him appear taller at first glance.

"Why not?" I ask.

"I just watched them make it," he says, gesturing at the punch bowl. "Don't let the fruits deceive you. I can't imagine it tasting any good."

"That's too bad." I drop the ladle and glance at the table again. There's a box of seltzer, which seems to be the drink of choice around here. But I've never heard of this brand before. "Any flavor recommendations?" I decide to ask.

"Watermelon is classic," he says.

"Oh, there's one left."

The guy smiles, holding out his drink. "Cheers."

"Cheers—"

Our cans clink and I take a sip. The watermelon hardly comes through, but at least it's carbonated, making it easier to go down. We stand there for a moment, nodding to the music.

"Do you go to Loyola?" he asks.

"No, I go to—" I pause, remembering what Daniel said. "I mean, I'm from out of town."

"Oh, where?"

Think of a random city. "Portland."

"Which one?"

I hesitate. "Maine?"

"That's where I'm from," he says brightly.

"I mean, the other one. Oregon. "

"Oh, I've never been there."

"Then that's where I'm from."

He gives me a look, as if trying to read me. "I'm Mark, by the way."

"I'm Eric."

"Are you here with someone?"

"My friend Daniel. He just went to grab some ice."

"How long are you in town?"

"Uh, a few days. But I'm back pretty often," I tell him. "I have family in Chicago."

"That's nice," he says, nodding. "Hopefully that means we'll keep running into each other." He smiles, taking a sip of his drink.

I can't tell if he's flirting or just being nice. It's usually safe to assume the latter. Beside us is the living room sofa, facing the television. Two guys are sitting there, playing Mario Kart. Eventually they both get up, leaving the controllers on the sofa.

"I was waiting for them to finish," Mark says, eyeing the television. He looks at me. "Down for a game of Mario Kart?"

"I'm not very good," I say.

He shrugs. "Neither am I. Can't even remember the last time I won."

"Then I'd love to."

Mark laughs. I could kill some time until Daniel comes back. We take a seat on the sofa, grabbing the controllers. I'm a little rustier than I expected, losing the first round pretty easily. Unfortunately, the second round doesn't go much better for me. Mark must have noticed my frustration because he starts slowing down for me.

I turn to him. "Are you letting me win?"

He smirks. "Maybe…"

"Don't do that."

"I wouldn't if the stakes were higher," he says.

"What kind of stakes?"

He pauses the game, thinking about it. "How about if I win, I get to kiss you," he says.

I glance at him, wondering if he's serious. "And what if I win?"

"You get to kiss me."

"Mark."

He chuckles again. "Alright. Let me think—" He looks around the room. "If you win, then I'll try the punch."

I glance at the punch bowl and back at him. "That seems fair."

We both smile as we start the next game. Maybe it's the stakes, but I'm a little better this time around. It's a close match, blue shells flying everywhere. But in the end, Mark passes me by a second, taking the win again. He sets down his controller as he turns to face me, one arm on the back of the sofa. I wasn't sure if he was serious about the kiss. When he runs a hand through my hair and leans in, I realize he is. For a moment, I think about letting him. But I turn my face away before his lips reach mine. "I'm sorry, Mark. But I can't."

He frowns. "Why not?"

"I came here with someone."

"Well, where is he?"

"He went to grab some ice."

"Wasn't that a while ago?"

I check the time on my phone. It's been forty minutes since he left. Shouldn't he have come back by now? I glance around the room, wondering if he's here. "You're right, I should probably go find him," I say, rising from the sofa. I feel bad leaving Mark like this, especially since he's been so nice. But I'm sure Daniel is looking for me, too.

The music changes to another Charlie XCX song as I wander through the crowd, searching for him. But I can't seem to find Daniel anywhere. I try calling his phone. When he doesn't answer, my heart rate picks up. I hope nothing happened while he was out. There's so many people in here, it's impossible to move. I wish they'd open a window, because I'm breaking a sweat. Maybe I should go out and look for him. It's supposed to be down the street, right? As I step out of the apartment, there he is.

Daniel's hands are around Leighton's neck, their lips pressed together. My stomach drops at the sight of them. Then he turns his head, noticing me. There's a brief silence as we both stand there, just looking at each other. Two bags of ice are stacked on the floor beside them. I don't know what to say except, " Sorry —"

"Eric…" Daniel starts.

But I walk off before he can finish his sentence. I don't know how to explain it, but my heart is about to rip out of me. Daniel calls my name again, but my legs move on autopilot. The next thing I know, I'm down the stairwell and bursting out the front door. Daniel clearly followed behind, because I hear his voice as the cold night air sends a shiver through me.

"Eric, where are you going?" he asks.

"Home."

"But we just got here."

I'm not sure what to say back. I just keep on walking, pretending I don't hear him. But Daniel refuses to stop following me.

"Can you stop walking for a minute?"

"You should go back to the party."

"Why are you upset?"

"I'm not. I just have to get home."

"It's only ten o'clock," Daniel says. "Your curfew isn't until midnight."

"I'm not feeling well."

I fold my arms as I cross the street. An hour ago, I couldn't wait to see him. Now I just need to get as far away from him as possible. Another country sounds nice right now. Daniel must sense something is wrong, because he follows me all the way to the train stop. "You should go back," I say again. "I'm sure your friends are waiting for you."

"Why are you acting weird?"

"I'm not acting weird."

"Is this about Leighton?"

I look away as a breeze blows leaves across the tracks. We're the only two standing on the platform.

Daniel sticks his hands into his pockets. "Look," he sighs. "If you really want to talk about this…"

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Then why are you so upset?"

I stare at the tracks, unsure what to say. The scene of them in the hallway keeps replaying in my head. Why has he never mentioned Leighton before? I know I shouldn't let this bother me, but I want to know. "How long have you been seeing him?"

"A few months."

"So you kept him a secret all this time," I say.

"I wasn't keeping him a secret," he says, shaking his head. "I just didn't know what it was. We were just friends at first. It wasn't a big deal."

"Then why didn't you mention him?"

"Because I wasn't sure how you would react, okay?"

A silence passes. I stare at the ground, feeling like a complete idiot for not seeing this coming. We've spent so much time together these past few years. What did it all mean to him? Did I misunderstand everything? I can't stop myself from asking this. "Why did you kiss me that night on the rooftop?"

Daniel lets out a breath and says, "I just wanted to. But it wasn't supposed to mean anything."

"Then why did you do it?"

"Maybe it was a mistake."

I wish I'd never asked the question. There's a terrible pain in my chest, making it hard to speak. "Yeah. Maybe it was," I say back.

I turn away, wanting to disappear from all of this. For some reason, Daniel stays with me on the platform. It feels like an infinity before a beam of light shines through the tunnel. I look at Daniel one last time, hoping he tells me none of this was true, that he's always been in love with me, too. But he doesn't say another word. So I step onto the train, letting the doors close behind me.

I wish I hadn't come here tonight. I wish I'd never even met him.