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Also, Connor has found me. “Hey there, Zak! You do remember my boyfriend Alan, right? Wait, have you two even met? This is Alan. Alan, this is Zak, my hall mate.”
I greet them distractedly, glancing over at the front door, which I have a mostly clear view of. I’d figure Richie would, at the very least, message me when he’s on his way—if he’s on his way at all.
My eyes meet someone else instead, who I recognize as a regular at Aubergines. He elbows a friend of his and points at me, gawping.
That’s my cue to look the other way, annoyed. Connor and Alan are talking to each other about something—and I have no idea if it’s for my benefit, because I’m totally tuning them out. I check my phone every time I think of it, afraid I’ve missed the vibration that would indicate an email or text from Richie. Nothing has come.
I’m starting to worry. Has something happened to him? Did he have a heart attack? What if he had a sudden heart attack, overstressed by his huge workload, and no one’s there to help him?
“Are you okay?” asks Connor suddenly.
I snap my eyes to him. “Sorry?”
“You seem really … on edge. Oh.” He peers over his shoulder, his mood changing. “Is it one of your rabid fans? Do we need to create a diversion? Is it serious?” He nods toward the stairs. “There’s a closet off the game room we can hide you in.”
Just what I need, to be shoved into a closet.
“Excuse me, can I have everyone’s attention, please?” someone calls out, tapping a glass.
The room silences. Heads turn to behold the sight of a clean-cut, round-faced young guy in a green polo and jeans, standing at the back of the room. When Brett comes to his side—an adoring smile on his face—it doesn’t take a genius to deduce this young guy must be his beau, Skylar.
“Thank you all for coming,” Skylar tells the room, swaying side to side. He’s had a drink and a half. “I am so … so blessed to be in a room of so many friendly, f-friendly … um, fun faces. I’m also blessed my wonderful sister and her hot hubby are letting me host this lovely celebration here in their house—Thanks, Lena and Emilio!—and I know you all probably had, like, way better things to do tonight, but it means so … so … so much to me that—”
I glance down at my phone, feeling a buzz.
Nope. Another false alarm.
Figuring Connor will fill me in, I tune out the rest of Skylar’s impassioned (and half-drunk) speech in favor of typing out another text: ‘C’mon, Richie. Can you let me know where you are or what’s going on, at least? Are you even alive? Is our weekend still a go, or are you caught up with something serious? Please text back.’
There’s a commotion of gasps and whispers all around me. I look up to find Skylar down on one knee, Brett’s hand taken in his. I missed it all.
“So will you be mine, Brett?” Skylar asks him, hope shimmering in his eyes. “Forever and ever?”
16
Okay, so it wasn’t what it looked like.
“A bro-posal?” I repeat, an eyebrow quirked as I stare dubiously at Connor.
It’s later. We’re in the crowded upstairs game room shooting pool—well, Mack, Lex, Connor, and Alan are. Mack and Lex are (by far) winning, because Connor can’t play for shit.
“Yep,” answers Connor, laughing it off with a roll of his eyes as he leans against his stick, then faces me. “It’s some kind of weird tradition thing I don’t get that they had back at their fraternity. I guess they’re visiting their old frat house with a bunch of former frat brothers, and Skylar wants to bring Brett as his plus-one … ugh, it’s even too ‘bro-ish’ for me to explain, and I’m his roommate.”
“So that wasn’t a proposal?” I ask, still catching up. “They’re not getting married?”
“Not today. Y’know, when Skylar was talking about destinies crossing, and how life has this strange way of leading us to where we belong …” Okay, I apparently missed a lot more of the speech than I realized. “… it got me thinking a lot about—Oh! It’s my turn.” Connor goes to the table, carelessly takes a shot, misses every single ball on the table, then returns to our conversation uninterrupted. “… got me thinking a lot about how I’ve come to meet so many amazing people here. I never dreamed this would be my life when I left Kansas. I was sure I’d come here, crash and burn, and head back home with my tail tucked. Instead, I soared.” He glances back at Alan, who is taking his own shot now with painstaking focus, desperate to pick up Connor’s slack. “I must be the luckiest guy in the world.”
