Lights pulse outside the bars in Boystown. It’s a Saturdaynight 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’sthisway.” 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 acollegeparty. 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 laughter. 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.”
