Page 60 of King of the Crease

“I…spilled cheese on it.” Fortunately, Nick doesn’t ask any follow-up questions. “Ready to get wasted?”

He places his gym bag on the back seat.

“We don’t have to get wasted at a bar crawl, right? There’s no requirement we drink at each establishment?” It’s sweet how worried he seems.

“We’ll nurse a beer or two. Bill’s going to be there, and he won’t want us smashed the night before a game. Plus, I think if I actually got wasted, it’d take me like five days to recover.”

“I’m getting a headache just thinking about being drunk.”

“Isn’t it cool being middle-aged?” I glance over my shoulder. “What’s the bag for? A change of sweater in case you puke all over yours?”

“It’s an overnight bag?” He bites his lower lip. “A change of clothes and my toothbrush and toothpaste. Because I thought…I’m…”

“Staying over?”

“Isn’t that what people do when they…” His big eyes widen then clench shut. “They don’t. Millie was right. This is awkward.”

He’s turning red. It’s the cutest thing ever.

“When people spend the night together, it’s more spontaneous. They wear their clothes from yesterday and do a walk of shame. They don’t bring an overnight bag like a child sleeping over at a friend’s house.” Nick rubs his hand through his hair and shakes his head, silently scolding himself. “I told you I had no experience. I warned you. Have I jinxed everything?”

I massage his neck as I float on a cloud of happiness. “You did not. Planning is really hot. I vacuumed and scrubbed my shower.”

I decide not to tell him I trimmed. He can discover that for himself.

“I thought we agreed that I’d stay over tonight. Hence…” He points his thumb behind him as the overnight bag of embarrassment.

“We did. I wasn’t sure if you meant it, or if it was something you said in the heat of everything last night.”

“I definitely meant it, Hank. Is it bad form to admit that I’ve been looking forward to this all day?”

“Same. And is it bad form if I kiss you right now and not wait until tonight?”

He lights up like a puppy about to get his treat. Our heads meet over the center console for a quick kiss.

“Before we go to the bar crawl, we need to stop at the drugstore.” I put the car in drive. “I didn’t buy any lube or condoms. You know, to wrap it up.”

Nick clenches his eyes shut again. Laughing with Nick is like bringing a moment of peace to the universe. Any of the awkwardness I thought I’d feel tonight melts away.

“One question,” I say as I back out of his cousin’s driveway. “You brought toothpaste in your overnight bag? Do you think I don’t have any?”

“I’m sure you do, but I really like mine.”

The cozy Christmas mode of downtown Sourwood is momentarily paused today. Hundreds of twentysomethings take over the main streets, milling about in bro blobs as they plan out their bar crawl line of attack. They take selfies and play music from their phones. Some went the ugly Christmas sweater route. Some are wearing tight T-shirts to show off the guns. A few are dressed like rejected extras from Elf, including yellow tights that leave nothing to the imagination.

And then there’s a stray group of fortysomething guys looking so out of place like the world’s easiest Where’s Waldo? story. We barely look festive enough. Des wears an expensive-looking cranberry half-zip sweater. Tanner wears his old South Rock hoodie. They have on matching reindeer antler headbands. Derek has on one of his fireman T-shirts under his coat. His boyfriend Cary has on a lime green button-down shirt with red tie. Bill opts for a regular flannel shirt. Only Griffin is decked out in a full-throated ugly Christmas sweater lined with fluffy garland and ornaments. He itches at the fabric, his face giving no holiday spirit.

We stare up at the first bar with hesitation. Loud, thumping bass blares as kids half our age stumble inside.

“Griffdog, it’s not too late to turn around,” Des says. “Do you really want to go to twelve bars with this crowd? None of them have ever used a landline.”

Griffin is good at giving stoicism, but I detect the hesitation etched into his brow as he looks up at the first bar.

“Of course,” he says.

“No one here is getting drunk,” Bill says. “We have a game in the morning. Let the Blades get trashed. Then we can destroy them on the ice.”

“You really know how to bring the fun,” Des says.