"Four."
"How do you feel?"
"Like Marcus Hale is a completely made up person." I shoot him a dopey look. "It's wonderful. You’re wonderful."
Kowalski looks between us. Says nothing and leaves.
Shot five happens because Bennett is there with his big hopeful face and how am I supposed to say no to that. I end up on the couch next to him, explaining to him at length why my music taste is a gift to this world that nobody has properly appreciated. "The thing is," I say, pointing at him, "most people just hear music. I experience it. Deeply. In my body. It moves through me."
"That's so true," Bennett says.
"You get it."
"I completely get it."
I grab his face with both hands. His cheeks squish and he just lets me. "You're my favorite. Has anyone told you that recently? You should hear it more. I love you, goalie." Bennett looks moved and very present in this moment.
Jamie appears from nowhere and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Okay, that’s enough, hands off." He pushes me back against the couch, placing several pillows between me and Ben, building a tower in an impressive thirty seconds.
"Jamie Nash." I turn to him immediately and the room does a little rotation I wasn't expecting, so I brace myself and grab his arm. "I was just telling Bennett he's my favorite."
"I heard,” he says, tight between his teeth.
"But you’re my real favorite,” I whisper, very loudly.
He looks at Bennett, satisfied. "He means it."
Ben makes a sound like a sigh. "I opened my heart for nothing again."
Jamie steers me toward the kitchen and I go because his hand is on my back and I have about zero resistance to that right now, as long as he stays touching me I’ll go wherever he wants.
"I'm okay," I say.
"I know."
"I'm having a great time."
"I can see that."
"You're not having a great time," I pout.
"I'm having a good time."
I look up at him and pout some more. "You're babysitting me."
"I'm watching you to make sure you’re okay."
"Same thing."
"Is it bothering you? Do you want me to back off?" He actually looks unsure of himself for once.
I think about it. Really think about it. "No, not at all," I say. "It's actually really nice." He hands me a water and I drink it because apparently I do whatever Jamie tells me now and that's just who I am.
By eleven I am fully, completely, magnificently drunk. The good kind. The kind where everything is soft and blurry and funny and the thing that's been eating me alive all week is somewhere very far away and somebody else's sober problem.
I find Kowalski leaning against the bar and tell him, very seriously, that he’s underrated as a human being. He looks at me for a second like he’s deciding whether I’m making fun of him. Then he nods once. “I know.” Complete sincerity. No irony. No humor. Just a man who has always known exactly what he is and has been patiently waiting for the rest of the world to catch up. I point at him. My guy. He’s Jamie-adjacent, which means he’s family now. He nods and drinks his beer.
Cooper I find later. Or he finds me. Doesn't matter.
