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“If I can even nut up enough to take him to grad.”

“I could ask him for you, like we’re in grade school.” He smiled, no doubt the result of so much time spent with Bren. “Or, hey, I could just ask him to be my date. I kind of need a new one.”

Dustin elbowed him in the side hard enough for the jolt to linger, even though the smile on his face was huge.

“Careful A.J. That’s my man.”

***

“Dustin?”

“Mhm.”

“Dustin Richards?”

“Yup.”

“Five foot seven, two-hundred pounds of hair and hockey Dustin?”

“Still yes.”

“Cop on.”

A.J. rolled onto his side to stare at the darkened street outside his bedroom window. It had been lucky that Mrs. O’Shea had decided to take Bren out for breakfast to celebrate finishing his Irish practical. Otherwise, A.J. would have had to try to sleep with this news burning a hole in the back of his head.

“Fuck, Arlo. I’ve gotta go in, like, five minutes. This is all I’m gonna be able to think about.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Guess you never can tell.”

A.J. refused to snort, but Bren must have heard him roll his eyes or something.

“What?”

“Pot, kettle, black?”

A.J. leaned his head into his pillow. With the banter, and American Idiot playing from the earbuds next to his head, he could have been back in Glenbridge right now.

“OK, but I’m half and half. It’d be weird if I didn’t pass, like.”

“You’re making yourself sound like a dairy product again.”

“You love it when I go past-your-eyes. Geddit? Hey, maybe this is your fault,” Bren said.

“What?”

“I start hanging around with you. Boom: I’m into lads. Dustin invites you over—”

“Burning six-year long relationship with his best friend from hockey?”

“Ok, maybe not him. But you’re definitely to blame for me.”

A.J. hit back on the track so he could listen to it again, smiling despite himself. “I’ll accept responsibility for that one.”

A muffled voice said something in the background and Bren’s hand covered the receiver as he spoke.

“Ah, I gotta go. Mam’s gettin testy.”