Page 51 of Josh’s Play

“Vance? Marchetti-Gordon?” I queried. My brother was the shyest and quietest of us. He was four years older than me, and though technically still a student at Hampstead University, I’d never once hung out with him at a bar or a party or a school event. Hillary was unconcerned about that fact.

“Yeah! It’ll be fun! When’s the last time you heard about Vance going out and having fun? I told him he had to come. I tried to see if Jamie or AJ wanted to join us, but AJ’s still recovering from smoke inhalation, and Jamie reminded me that he’s in his forties, and that it might not be appropriate for him to attend a college party.”

“I’m guessing AJ didn’t have those same issues?”

Hillary laughed and leaned into Devon. “AJ’s policy is, no one younger than twenty-one, but damned if he can’t pick a twenty-one-year-old out of the crowd every time.”

“He’s the firefighter?” Devon asked distractedly, and I followed his gaze to see Jamie exiting the half bath across the foyer from the room we were sitting in. Devon watched him head toward the den he and Vera were sharing until we couldn’t see him any longer. “Huh?” he asked though I hadn’t yet responded.

“The straight firefighter,” I reminded him. My phone buzzed then, and I laughed at the photo Cam had sent, this time of him and his brothers pretending to fight in their matching clothes.

Finn: I think we’ve got our Christmas card.

Devon’s gaze was fixed on me, and I snapped the goofy smile off my face.

“What?”

He tried to lean over to look at my phone, but I hugged it to my chest. “You’re acting weird.”

I looked from Devon to the bathroom door and back again. “No, you’re acting weird.”

Devon’s distraction continued into the next day, but at least he had an excuse when he discovered that he’d been moved from the waiting list and granted a spot in a one-month winter internship at Welling Financial, the prestigious Wall Street firm.

Campbell had texted earlier that he’d arrived back in town in time for a nine-a.m. practice.

Finn: Coach let us sleep in.

He’d sent a picture of himself leaning in front of a microwave in a quaint-looking kitchen. The time on the equipment read four thirty. Campbell’s eyes were tired, but they still shone bright, and that smile I thought of as mine fought the sleepiness in his look as well. Before I could think to stop myself, I’d downloaded the image to my phone.

His dedication reminded me of Hunter’s, who that same morning dragged my dad out to the indoor sports park to throw some pitches, insisting that he’d gone too many days without practicing.

“Weren’t you at the park when Devon and I got here on Wednesday?”

Hunter just shrugged as he heaved his duffle bag over his shoulder. My family was together for dinner again that night, enjoying leftovers and horror stories from the members of my family who’d ventured to the outdoor mall in our town to do some holiday shopping.

After dinner, Vance, Caid, Hillary, Devon, and I bundled up and walked to the Delta Tau fraternity house. I was anxious to see Campbell and had spent a large amount of time during the day reminding myself that we were only friends. I really, really missed my friend’s smile and his smell and his paradoxically flustered confidence.

By the time we entered, the party was raging. I walked in with Vance, who blanched and looked like he wanted to turn around and leave. A table was set up in the large foyer of the fraternity house, piled high with coats. Our group tossed ours on top. Vance was wearing a beanie, and instead of tossing it along with his coat, he pulled the woven material down over his ears as if it were a helmet that could offer some protection from the battle he was about to enter.

He looked forlornly at the exit. I shook my head and hooked my arm in Vance’s.

“Come on, Vernon.” I teased him with his pen name. “Let’s find the beer.”

Vance rolled his eyes at me but let me lead him through the crowd, arm in arm. Hillary and Caid had taken off, and Devon walked in front of us. I scanned the room for Campbell but came up empty. We fought our way through the main room and found the kitchen.

“Vance!” A tall man with a British accent joined us and was introduced as a member of the class where Vance was the teacher's assistant for that semester. The man looked as relieved to see a familiar face as Vance was, and the two began talking about the book they were reading for class.

Devon had lined up at one of the kegs and was filling a cup when I arrived. He passed it to me and filled two more. I returned to Vance and his student and leaned in close to his ear, hoping the student wouldn’t hear me. “You good?”

Vance nodded and gave me a small smile as I passed him a beer. I wished I felt as comfortable as my usually awkward brother seemed to be as I scanned the party. I was more anxious than I ever remembered being, with the possible exception of one fateful day when I had broken my finger. My heart pounded, and my head pulsed along with the beat of the music from the other room. I desperately wanted to see Campbell and was desperately worried that I would mess up and be too obvious in my feelings for him.

Devon waited for my gaze to land on him, and he handed me the other cup, shooting me a questioning look. I ignored it and looked behind me in time to see Campbell turning around in the opening to the kitchen and heading the other way. It was like I had sensed him there. I watched him fight through the crowd with his back slumped.

“Campbell!” I yelled. I mean, I had to, right? To be heard over the crowd. And I know he heard me because his back straightened. He stopped but didn’t turn. From behind, I pictured him trying to decide what to do. It reminded me how well I could read him, which in turn reminded me that I had to be just his friend, no matter how in tune I was to his feelings or his moods or his mere presence in a room.

“Isn’t that the star of the hockey team?” Devon remarked. “He was all over the school’s social media last week. Apparently, he had a really great game or something. Lots of touchdowns or whatever.” Devon was standing close and yelling this directly into my ear over the sound of the music and the noise of the party. “He’s the guy from your sports journalism class, right?”

I stood staring at Campbell’s back as he began to walk away, and Devon continued to talk over my shoulder. “He looked like a big puppy in the photo they used on TV but look at him, Josh. His shoulder span is wider than you are tall. And those thighs. I mean, I think those are supposed to be baggy sweats. They are not baggy on him. And that hair. His hair was not that long in the photo. You have a thing for longer hair, don’t you, Josh? Remember that barista that worked at Arise last year? I never see him anymore. Did he graduate? Did you and he ever …”