Who had a magnificent ass
Not rounded and pink
As you’d probably think
But was gray, had long ears, and ate grass.”
Cole was giggling and moving to spot Brennan so he didn’t fall and die, until Nellie pulled him down.
Another hour later, Cole started to sober up and resume the role of mom-friend, pushing water on everyone, until eventually Brennan sobered up, too, which had the effect of making the party seem a lot more gross, sticky, and anxiety-inducing. Cole was flourishing a couple of pre-rolled joints—god bless the legal state of Massachusetts—and getting a group of people to start a circle outside.
When that properly distracted most of Brennan’s friends, he made his way to the bathroom for that late-party breakdown moment when you stared at yourself in the mirror and contemplated existence. Or wasthat a Brennan thing? But the door was locked, and continued to be for ten minutes, even after he banged on the door and finally got a pointed moan in response.
Oh. Oops. There were definitely people hooking up in there.
“Sorry!” he called through the door and paused his crisis for later. The party was winding down, people beginning to leave, either too drunk or too sober to be there.
Down the hallway from the bathroom, Nellie and Sunny were talking in urgent whispers. Brennan didn’t have any qualms using his spidey senses to eavesdrop this time, catching the end of a sentence—
“—if there’s new turns that we don’t know about.”
—before Sunny stiffened and turned to look directly at Brennan.
Nellie rushed forward with a smile. “Oh good, Brennan!” she said. “We wanted to find you, we were about to head out.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s super. We’ve got some business to deal with, so don’t let us interrupt your party.”
“Oh,” Brennan said. “Can I help, or—?”
“No, no,” Nellie insisted immediately, putting a companionable arm around Brennan and steering him toward the door. She found her bomber jacket within the jumble on the coat hooks and shrugged it on while giving Brennan a teasing smile. “Cole’s great, by the way.”
“Right,” said Brennan. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”
Nellie opened the door and Cole was on the other side, pink-nosed from the late-night autumn air, a few people behind him with various levels of the giggles. Cole’s hair was especially tousled, and Brennan wanted to reach out and fix it, tug the jacket around his neck tighter against the wind.
The sound of a throat clearing pulled Brennan’s gaze from his weed-scented love interest, and Nellie was watching him with a completely unsubtle grin.
“What you can do,” Nellie said, “is text me the details tomorrow.”
Sunny said, “Retweet.” And then they both disappeared into the night.
“What was that about?” Cole asked, stepping inside and into Brennan’s space, the length of their arms pressed together.
“Don’t worry about it,” Brennan said.
The party crowd continued to thin as the morning hours crept in, and Brennan and Cole were continually in each other’s orbit, catching each other’s eyes throughout the night in a weird, soft tension Brennan had never experienced before. The quiet confidence that he wanted Cole, and the tentative amazement that Cole could want him back.
Mari had disappeared at some point in the night. Cole was mostly sober, helping those who weren’t order Ubers home, telling everyone to have a good night and drink water and eat a big breakfast tomorrow in that disgustingly charming way of his, waving goodbye to girls carrying their high-heeled shoes and guys who smelled strongly of beer.
Then Cole was at his side again, a hand on his elbow, smiling conspiratorially.
“Let’s go somewhere,” Cole said.
“Yeah?” Brennan asked. “The Waffle Den’s the only place open.”
“Nah, I have a better idea,” Cole said. He smiled, and this one seemed a little brighter, a little more private. “Trust me?”
