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My eyes drift to the pool table and the array of randomly placed balls … solids and stripes and numbers, and the one cue ball pocked with bluish chalk marks. Those balls are like people, waiting to find a pocket to sink into before the big game’s over … and at the total whim of a bunch of players with sticks, like little fleshy gods, determining with varying levels of accuracy where they all end up in the end. Which one am I? Which one is Richie?
And why the fuck haven’t I heard from him yet??
Alan drifts from the table and comes up to give Connor a quick kiss. “Babe, we’re totally losing. Also, have you had the talk?” he asks him.
Connor blinks. “The talk?”
“Yeah. With your roommate.” Alan inclines his head forward, giving Connor a knowing look.
It clicks with Connor—whatever it is. “Oh. No. I haven’t had … haven’t had that talk yet.”
“Babe, you gotta have it soon.”
“I know, I know, shh.” Connor peers over his shoulder, as if seeking Brett out in the crowd. “I’ll have it with him,” he promises Alan. “Just not now. Let Brett have his fun night with Sky.”
Alan grins. “I can’t wait ‘til you’re all mine for good.” He goes in for a kiss.
I stare at the two of them, wide-eyed. “Wait a sec. You two are getting married?” I blurt out.
They stop kissing and turn to face me, then look at each other, then burst into laughter. “No, no, no,” Alan attempts to say between his laughs. “No, that’s not … oh, man … no, no, no …”
The two carry on laughing, apparently unable to recover long enough to explain anything to me.
It’s just as well, because I tell them I need some air, then pass by Mack and Lex—who are pretending not to still be eye-fucking each other across the pool table—on my way downstairs. The air is stale when I step out onto the stoop, then take a seat on the bottom step and stare at my blank phone with frustration.
I should probably just head home, hop online, and sit in my chat room until he appears. I’m more likely to hear from him there than I am here.
Or to get a simple text from him, apparently.
The noise of the party inside blasts my back when the front door opens again, and out steps Mack. “I know something’s up with you.” He shuts the door behind him, sealing the noise away. He drops onto the step next to me. “I’m tired of seeing you mope around this party which, by the way, you dragged me to. Spill it. What’s going on with you?”
I decide not to point out that it was Lex who dragged him here. “Just thinking about fate,” I say dryly, borrowing Connor’s words—or Sky’s. “And destiny. And where we’re supposed to belong.”
“Oh, we’re doing this again.”
I turn to him. “Doing what?”
Mack snorts and shakes his head. “This whole ‘I don’t want to be dancing when I’m forty’ thing. Every New Year’s at Leo’s when you and I get wasted, you always go off on the same damned thing, crying about not wanting to do this forever, about your dreams …” He eyes me. “You’re about five months early. What’s with you tonight?”
I shake my head, then peer down at my phone. “It isn’t that. Dancing couldn’t be farther from my mind. It’s just—”
Just then, a message pops up.
I blink.
It’s Richie: ‘I am so sorry, Isaac. I got caught in three back-to-back meetings, and a deal fell through that I had to handle. It’s been a madhouse here. I had to move my flight. Can we plan for tomorrow?’
My heart jumps.
I catch myself smiling.
‘Yeah,’ I text him right back, all of my irritation and doubt wiped away immediately. ‘That works for me. Maybe I’ll see you online tonight? Hey, I can give you a free private show, just us, enjoying ourselves.’
He replies: ‘You’re on, naughty Zak.’
I smirk. ‘Naughty Captain.’
I look up from my phone, dreams in my eyes and a smile on my face.
“There it is,” grunts Mack.
I flinch. I nearly forgot he was sitting next to me. “There’s what?”
“That wicked-ass smile of yours. Is it that older guy you’re seeing?” He nudges me. “Is he driving you crazy or something?”
I chuckle. “In a way, yeah. I’m just … I’m just not used to depending on someone. It’s new territory for me, this whole having-someone-in-my-life thing. I want him to be here with me, y’know? I hate the distance. He’s always busy with work, and—”
“Yeah, well, so are you.”
“But it’d be easier to deal with if he was here.”
Mack throws an arm around me. “Don’t worry about it so much, man. Fuck, you’re stressing me out. Take it easy. Will you come back inside and, like, fucking get a drink with me or something?”
