Page 133 of I Think They Love You

“Is that so? Planning for the future, Denz?”

Denz looks up sheepishly. He bites his lip, nodding.

“Wonderful.” Emmanuel’s next smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I can’t wait.”

-19-

DenzhatesJägermeister.

It tastes like black licorice and death. The smell alone makes him want to projectile-vomit. It’s also led to him doing irrationally stupid things in the past. Things like eating two dozen hot wings in under fifteen minutes, making out with a crosswalk sign, streaking through the Arch on UGA’s North Campus. Thankfully, none of it was caught on video and sold to TMZ.

He hasn’t touched the stuff since college, which is precisely why he’s pouring two shots for himself while Jamie sits on the floor, slurping from one of Mikah’s juice pouches. It’s nights like this where he wishes Jamie enjoyed drinking. That way he wouldn’t be the only one looking for answers at the bottom of a dusty green bottle.

Does alcohol expire?

In front of Denz are two pub glasses—“borrowed” from one of Jamie’s bars—half full of Red Bull. The classic Jägerbomb. Jamie eyes him suspiciously as he drops the first shot glass into the energy drink before downing it all.

“We had sex again.”

“Me and you?” Jamie raises an eyebrow. “When was the first time?”

Denz belches. “Me and Braylon! The other night!” The alcohol hasn’t kicked in, but the Red Bull certainly has.

“Obviously. Hard to miss Braylon sneaking out of our apartment in one of your shirts after midnight.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I like watching you squirm.” Jamie reaches for a chicken burrito on the coffee table. When Denz texted him,EMERGENCY TALK, he stopped for supplies. “Besides, you’re much nicer when you’ve got that I-just-got-dick face.”

Denz groans into his hands. He’s spentdaystrying to add up what’s changed. Walked into numerous trash cans and doors while rereading Braylon’s texts, analyzing their moments together. The night at Braylon’s apartment. The hotel. Even what happened here, which he’s admittedly jerked off to—just to clear his head.

Shredded cheese falls off Jamie’s burrito. He scoops it into his mouth, then says, “Is that your big problem? Sex with your boyfriend?”

“Fakeboyfriend.”

“How’s lying to yourself working out?”

Denz flips him off. “Doesn’t matter. He’s moving to California.”

“He is? When?”

“I don’t know. A few weeks? After the spring break event.”

Jamie stands abruptly, pacing the living room, burrito in one hand. Beans fall on the carpet. He drags his other hand through his hair. “So, you’re moving to California?”

“What? No.Braylonis.”

“Yeah, but.” Jamie’s forehead wrinkles. “You’re obviously going with him.”

Denz tilts his head. “Why would I go with him?”

“Whywouldn’tyou?”

“Because he didn’t ask me to.” Denz stares at the dark brown liquor in the shot glass. He wills back the tears misting his eyes. “He’s not making that mistake again.”

“That wasn’t his ch—”

“It was his choice,” Denz argues. “Don’t defend him. You’remybest friend.”

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