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So, to say the least, I had suddenly become hot shit. Just kidding. If anything, I now felt like a complete imposter. Alex seemed to have accepted me as somewhat cool, and now Robbie added a level of intrigue, and Henry was ever present. Despite being hot shit, I rarely saw a text from Alex. I had already placed him in the category of “people who don’t text” alongside other major figures of my life: my grandma, for example.

When Alex did text, though, it was a surprising treat. “Hey. I’m having a Halloween party. Come. Costumes mandatory.” It sounded like the kind of text you would blast out to your 150 closest friends, but I’d take it. Needless to say, it sent me careening into a whole territory of college-aged fear.

“Henry.” I said, slightly gasping as he picked up the phone.

“Special Agent Connor, you’ve made contact. Over.” Henry said in a great imitation of a G-man type.

“Sorry. Please, are you free right now? I need help.”

“Slow down ma’am, where’s the fire?”

“Shut up. I need a Halloween costume. Please.” I pleaded.

“Meet me at ThriftCity.” The line went silent, because apparently Henry was really committed to one shtick or another today.

ThriftCity is a very run-down, very 90s thrift store buried in a strip mall near campus and nestled between a tobacco store and a vacuum repair shop. The whole thing seems lifted out of the year I was born. The back wall is a blue ribbon splash like you can still see in 80s movies mall settings.

When I walk in, Henry already has an arm full of clothes and a pair of boots hanging off his neck. He looks like a fucking fool when he catches my eye and breaks into that toothy grin.

“Bro, I’ve got you set. You’re gonna absolutely hate it.” He says, patting me on the back and handing me the boots.

“You picked out something that you know I’ll hate?”

“Was there a costume I could have picked that you wouldn’t have hated?” I shut up, because he’s absolutely right. I hate dressing up and bringing attention to myself. Ideally, I would like to disappear at this party. Actually, I’d really prefer not to go, but as always, Alex forces me to the very limit.

Henry steers me to a bank of dressing rooms. There’s a teenage girl tending them with a ring of keys, popping her gum and staring down at Instagram or something.

“Hi, could we get a room?” Henry bounds towards her.

“Ummmm…” She says, eyeing the two of us. I had no idea what her issue was, because I’m really dumb. Henry spots it immediately.

“We can share. We’re brothers.” He says simply, and walks to the door he wants her to open. Effortless.

Inside, I’m eying the mound of clothes and realizing that when trapped in a tiny room, Henry’s height gain on me is all the more noticeable. He’s somehow so nextdoor neighbor handsome, even when you’re looking up his nose.

The clothes though, are another story. He’s clearly conconcted something vaguely Old West or something, as he now holds a cowboy hat and the boots are clearly meant to resemble something a cowboy might wear. Plus, a scruffy plaid shirt and the kind of pants I would never, ever wear.

“Relax.” He says, sensing my discomfort. “Try it on. We’re going for Brokeback Mountain, except less repressed.” He laughs, and I laugh along even though I’m still definitely unsure.

I pull my polo up and over my head and take the plaid shirt from his hand. I begin to button it before he stops me, grabbing my hand gently.

“Don’t button it up, dude.” He says, and he’s got that smile that says he’s in on a joke that I’m not.

“What? I’m not going with my shirt unbuttoned.”

“Can you trust me? This is a college Halloween party. There won’t be anyone with a covered chest. There will be girls with their tits out. Relax.” He minds me.

When all is said and done, Henry actually had done an amazing job. It is vaguely sexy, but the hat makes it obvious what the look is meant to be. And I don’t have to wear anything I feel super stupid in. Just an unbuttoned shirt. The only hurdle I have to get past to make this costume work is my exposed chest, which is a lot easier than if he had come up with Tarzan or sexy Caveman or put me in a toga. Henry knows me.

As we walk out of ThriftCity with a costume for the low everyday price of $15 ($15! Can you believe it) – I ask Henry:

“Will you please come with me? To the party, I mean.”

“Already planned on it.” He says, slapping me on the back and turning to walk the other way.

“What are you gonna be?” I call after him.

“We’ll see, I guess.” And with that, he’s almost out of earshot.

With a week until Halloween, I felt like I could luxuriate in the time I had to mentally prepare for another college party. In reality, even slow-as-hell Stats seemed to hurtle on by towards the casino oyna inevitable weekend of the party. Robbie and I chatted briefly at the end of Stats, with me trying very hard to be amenable after our last conversation without awkwardly asking what he had meant with his closing comment. It turned out he would also be at Alex’s party, and that I ought to come say hi.

Suddenly, there was no pretense of exclusivity about the party anymore. On one hand, this made it considerably more acceptable to invite Henry along, but lent itself to feeling a little less special. Whatever. I set a mental note to stop getting hung up on feeling special. Plus, there was the solace of having another friendly face at the party. I’d need backup.

I had class on Halloween because, for whatever reason, administration had little care for the festivities of the day. In the distance of my late night calendar, Alex’s party was ever-looming. After class, I rushed home and found Dean and Jake playing Xbox, which was nothing new.

“You guys have Halloween plans?” I asked, but already knew the answer.

“You’re lookin’ at ’em!” One of them responded, but I had already turned to the bathroom.

I’m going to confide something very private here. I rarely brush my teeth for two whole minutes. I read an article that I can’t find anymore that said that you really don’t need to brush that long and that Big Dental spreads that rumor for little kids who aren’t focused and to sell more tooth brushes. But tonight, I brushed for 4. A careful stroke of deoderant, an exceedingly long shower, and I wondered briefly: Are you supposed to exfoliate your chest? Is that a thing you’re supposed to do everywhere? I wish I knew anything about anything.

With the bathroom still foggy, my goofy cowboy costume was starting to visualize in the floor length mirror. The boots were certifiably stupid, but they sold the look all the same. With an open shirt, my pale skin looked placid and cool. I was missing some of the rough-and-tumble sun spots of a true cowboy, but I was ‘sexy’ enough that I clearly wasn’t going for ‘authentic’. I tipped my hat in the mirror, felt like a complete moron, and turned to leave.

Jake and Dean, ever the brothers, wolf whistled at me as I strode through the living room and avoided their gaze. Blushing, I took off into the night.

Are hard nipples attractive? I doubt it, but it was poorly advised to go fast-walking across campus without a jacket and a bare chest. Look, I had hard nipples when I got to the party, all right?

I had texted Henry frantically to meet me so we could walk in together, and he politely informed me that he was:

“Already here. Fashionably early. Preparing your beverage, m’lord.”

I grinned and blushed again. I shot Alex a text too, to let him know that I’d be coming soon, but he didn’t reply. I’m sure he was getting ready preparing a party, whatever that means. I could picture him now, swooping from room to room, talking effortlessly. The part of that fantasy that I had a hard time admitting is I pictured him constantly checking the front door, anxiously awaiting my arrival and to see my costume.

My legs started to tingle just as I got to the walk of Alex’s house. Inside, some house music was making the windows shake. If I were just starting to get a grip on my nerves, I lost it when I remembered that I know absolutely nothing about house music. Do you call it house music, or just ‘house’?

Just as I get to the door, it becomes clear that finding Henry is going to be a battle. The house is wall-to-wall sexy freakshow. Apparently, basically any given profession sans shirt is eligible for a Halloween costume now: shirtless lumberjack, teacher in bra, the list is endless. The room is practically humid with grinding bodies. I’m just starting to crane my neck over the crowd when Henry, seemingly from nowhere, pushes into my view with two red cups.

This should be Henry’s scene, but he doesn’t look to be having a good time at all. He brings his lips near my ear and yells, which send a shiver to my cock.

“This place is packed. Do you want to just go home or something?” He asks, which sends me reeling. Henry is supposed to be the one that forces me to go to parties, not the other way around.

“We don’t have to stay for long. Let me just say hi to Alex and stuff.” I yell back as a skimpily clad cat walks between us.

“I just think we should go. Maybe we can find another party.” He says, sidling up to me and draping an arm over my shoulder as we press against the wall.

“What’s gotten into you? Just a half hour.” I say, and Henry turns to face me like he’s ready to argue, but shrugs his shoulders and hands me my drink. I have no idea what’s in it, but it tastes vaguely coconut-ey and makes me cough which elicits Henry’s award-winning grinning.

After a brief canlı casino visit from anti-party-Henry, a man whom I’d never met before, I noticed the rest of Henry. He’d gone full porno doctor, wearing just scrub bottoms and a stethoscope around his neck. His auburn hair poked out from the back of his surgical cap, pushing – rather, dancing – through the party.

Unexpectedly, Robbie slid out of a mass of grinding couples and into view. Robbie was, no surprises, not really a trend-follower. He’d gone full zombie. It wasn’t embarrassingly scary, but it also definitely wasn’t sexy. His eschewing of the trend made me feel comfortable. I was cooler than at least one other person here. Sorry, that’s mean.

“Hi Connor. Lookin’ good. Not the costume I expected from you, to be honest.” He yelled, giving me the up-and-down. His eyes lingered briefly at my navel.

“Hi Robbie!” I said, smiling, feeling like a dick for judging him. “Not the costume I would have seen on myself, either.”

Robbie smiled and rolled his eyes. In that moment, he definitely ‘got’ me. We touched cups, cheers’d, and he disappeared back into the crowd.

Henry and I danced around for a bit. I was just starting to get extremely aggitated my the fluttering of my shirt around my torso when, cup empty, I turned for a refill in the kitchen. I still hadn’t seen Alex and figured he might be playing good host, filling drinks and chatting – or hanging in the quieter kitchen, just like that night on Pine Drive.

I yelled to Henry to come with to the kitchen, and as I turned to go he grabbed my shoulder to pull me back.

“Connor, let’s just go. I’m like, uh, overheating or something. I don’t know what my deal is.” He said, and his eyes were really pleading with me. I couldn’t figure Henry out, but I wanted to make him happy too.

“Let me just say hi to Alex. It’ll be a hi-bye thing. I promise.” I yelled back, patting him on the elbow and turning again. He yanked me right back.

“Connor.” He said, and he fixed me with a serious gaze. A gaze that silenced the party in my mind’s ear only. “We go in there, and then we walk right back and out the front door. Don’t stop walking.”

I had absolutely no fucking idea what he was talking about, but chalked it up to a mix of alcohol and exam stress or something. I’d never known Henry to have an anxiety attack or anything like that, but knew the feeling. I nodded solemnly so he would know I understood.

I slid between the stupid, very dated beaded curtain that led to the kitchen. In a corner breakfast nook, a punch bowl bubbled with dry ice and a fog machine was chugging away from the countertop. Still, the thick fog of bodies and smoke seemed to split before me and a facial twitch that I had conquered in my childhood resurfaced. I do this thing where, when I get shocked or scared, I just can’t help but blink. Like, I blink a lot. Rapid eye blinking.

Nestled in the corner, legs on top of each other, was Alex and a guy that I recognized but couldn’t quite place. More remarkable than the unknown-but-familiar figure, though, was the undeniability of what I saw there.

Alex lit up when he saw me. My stomach dropped when we made eye contact.

“Connor! Come here, come meet Remy.” He said. I fucking hate names like Remy. You should name a cat Remy, not a person. I put on the fakest, thickest smile I had ever summoned in my life.

“Hi, Connor.” Remy, blonde idiotic wavy hair said. “I’m Alex’s boyfriend. I don’t think we’ve met yet.” What a moron. Still, I took his hand and squeezed. They were wearing a couples costume, if you could believe it. t was the dumbest, cheesiest two getups I had ever witnessed. A Batman and Robin type deal, but of course, shirtless. Remy, to my dismay, was absolutely chiseled. I reminded myself that people who look like that are typically morons, a lie of self preservation.

Henry clapped me on the shoulder again. “Well, great party but Connor was just going to escort me home. I’m not feeling too well.”

Alex looked crestfallen at our early departure. I took a mental snapshot of that defeated face and wanted to save it forever. He had turned to face Remy again before Henry and I were even out of the kitchen. I was another boy in the group text, another fading face at a college party. What a moron.

Henry steered me through the party, past Robbie who graciously took the hint that I was in no mood to talk, and out into the crisp October air. When we were halfway back to campus and away from row after row of college housing, he stopped.

“We can take a sec, if you want.” He said. We hadn’t exchanged a word since the ordeal in the kitchen. In fact, I couldn’t remember even saying anything to Alex.

“No, it’s all good. I’m just really tired.” I lied.

“Let’s sit for a minute. My legs are getting tired.” He lied right back. kaçak casino Henry’s legs were never tired after three blocks, probably because he’s not geriatric. He sat me down on the curb and I laid back against the very cold pavement. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I get the impression that… that wasn’t what you expected to see.”

I nodded and sighed. Just a sigh, no heaving chest or whining. “I feel like something is wrong with me. Like everyone ‘gets it’ except for me.” I replied.

“You told me everything with Alex, right? No big data points that you left out?” He asked, and I could tell he wasn’t trying to soothe my hurt feelings. It was matter-of-fact.

“Yes.”

“And, without being presumptive, you’d say I’m one of the guys who ‘gets it’ right?”

I nodded again.

“Well, I wouldn’t have thought he had a boyfriend either. I’m not saying you got played, but you might have been fooled. There’s a difference.”

And of course, because he’s Henry, he was right. I wasn’t played, but you know how when you’re a kid, sometimes you ‘forget’ to tell Mom that you had homework? You plead with her: I didn’t lie! I never said I didn’t have homework, you just didn’t ask! But you didn’t tell the truth, either, she chides you. Alex didn’t lie, but he certainly did omit the truth – and I never asked.

“You know, getting fooled doesn’t make you a fool.” He said, turning his body to look at my face. The striations of his muscle really showed, even in the dim moonlight when he twists like that. In that moment, lit by white light, Henry might have been the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

Henry leaned down. My heart quickened. He touched my torso. My heart burst. We were going to kiss, right now, right here. Henry was about to kiss me.

No. Not tonight. He grabbed my hand, stood, and pulled me to my feet.

“Better mosey on home, par’dner.” He said, and he took the cowboy hat off my head and placed it over his surgical cap. He was the doctor cowboy, and I was… a guy in jeans and cowboy boots. Ah, Henry.

I’m not a crybaby. I had been angry, sad, upset, and depressed about a thousand times before and couldn’t even remember the last time I cried.

In fact, the only real thing I ever feel is a baseline nervousness. Tonight was a little different. But when I slipped between my cold sheets that night and put a pillow over my head to drown out the sound of Dean and Jake playing their thousandth game, I did feel something. From neck to toe, I was completely numb, but my face was warm and flushed. I certainly didn’t feel normal.

With the help of the beer starting to circulate my system, I quickly drifted off. That numbness and quiet siege of alcohol overcame me.

“We’ll always have Pine Drive.” He pulled from my grasp and took two steps into the mist before he was swallowed completely by it. I felt myself fall to my knees when from behind there was the loud cutting of air by a propeller.

I turned to look back and the fog had cleared to show a single plane, hurtling full speed towards me for take off. I gasped but my knees were glued to the pavement. The sound grew louder and louder and the headlights blinded me until-

“Fuck!” I gasped, jolting up right. I slipped my legs over the side of the bed, looking wildly around the pitch-black bedroom. There was no runway, no fog, no planes.

I was so stupid. I was such a stupid fucking idiot that knew nothing about the real world. Alex and I were never going to be and never had been boyfriends, or exclusive, or even mildly attracted to each other. We were a quick party fuck, then a quick dorm fuck, then a fetish-ey bookstore fuck. I had imagined that all this emotional weight was hanging in the balance between us. The constant electrifying tension snapped. The powerline stopped sizzling. Across that city, lights went out and plunged into darkness all because some fucking stupid college boy at the power station remembered he doesn’t know how to operate a hydroelectric dam.

Looking up at the popcorn ceiling of my dorm room, I remembered again that the root of every problem in my life was that I was just too weird. I’m laying here making jokes about being the man who works at a hydroelectric dam, and I’m surprised that someone like Alex didn’t take me seriously. Who would take me seriously? I’m the biggest fucking joke ever born. I’m a homonculus for awkward anxiety and weirdness.

I once heard this quote: The true price of something is how much life it costs. When all was said and done, the thunderstorm that was Alex had come and passed in a matter of weeks. But it felt like it had consumed so much more than that. He had hit the reset switch and sent me back to that boy I was driving out here to school, terrified.

Henry might be right, that being fooled doesn’t make you a fool. But being fooled might still make you unfit for college life.

In that deepest moment of self-pity though, it occurred to me that there was only one thing left to completely reset. It was time to go home.

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