“This place smells like a brewery had sex with a Hollister store and died.”
I’m pressed against Jace’s front door, watching Luca shut it behind us like he’s sealing my tomb. The bass is literally vibrating through my ribcage, and there’s already some shirtless dude doing what I can only describe as interpretive dancing three feet away.
“Noah, come on.” Luca grabs my hoodie sleeve. “It’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad?” I have to shout over the music. “There’s condensation on the walls. Actual human condensation. This is how plagues start.”
But then I actually look at him—really look—and my brain short-circuits. Because of course Luca looks fucking perfect. His hair’s doing that thing where it falls just right over his eyes, and he’s wearing this black t-shirt that should be illegal in seventeen states. I can see the outline of his shoulders, the way the fabric stretches across his chest when he moves.
I am so pathetically gone for this boy it’s not even funny.
“You’re staring,” he says, grinning like he caught me doing something illegal.
“I’m processing the horror.” I unstick my shoes from the floor. “Did someone spill an entire keg already?”
“That’s just party ambiance.” He starts pulling me through the crowd, and I try not to die from the way his hand feels around my wrist. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I will literally never get used to this.”
We’re weaving through bodies—sweaty, loud, grinding bodies—and I’m trying not to have a full panic attack when Jace appears like a bad omen.
“Well, well.” His smirk makes me want to punch something. “Look what Luca dragged in.”
“Hey, Jace.” Luca’s voice goes flat. “Thanks for the warm welcome.”
“Just surprised, that’s all.” Jace looks me up and down like I’m expired milk. “Didn’t know you were into charity work now.”
The words hit like a slap, but before I can spiral into complete social death, Luca steps closer to me. Not touching, but close enough that I can smell his cologne over the chaos.
“Funny,” Luca says, his voice deadly calm. “I was about to say the same thing about your personality.”
Jace’s smile falters. “Just making conversation.”
“Make it somewhere else.”
Holy shit. Luca Reyes just chose me over his hookup. I’m pretty sure I’m having an out-of-body experience.
Jace disappears back into the crowd, and Luca turns to me. “You okay?”
“I’m processing.” My voice sounds weird. “Did you just—”
“Defend your honor? Obviously.” He’s grinning again, pulling me toward the kitchen. “You’re with me. That means something.”
My heart does this stupid fluttering thing. “What does it mean, exactly?”
“It means I don’t let people talk shit about my best friend.”
Best friend. Right. The friend zone strikes again.
We end up by the kitchen island, and Luca grabs a drink from someone’s cooler while I clutch a cup of suspiciously blue liquid like it’s going to save my life.
“This tastes like diabetes,” I mutter, taking a sip.
“Don’t drink the blue stuff,” Luca says, way too late.
“You could’ve mentioned that five minutes ago.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“Your definition of fun is deeply concerning.”
He laughs, and the sound cuts through all the noise somehow. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being realistic. This is a disaster waiting to happen.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I could die of secondhand embarrassment. You could hook up with someone in front of me. Jace could roast me into social exile.”
“I’m not hooking up with anyone,” Luca says, and there’s something in his voice that makes me look at him. “I told you. I’m here with you.”
Before I can unpack what that means, Jace’s voice cuts through the music like a knife.
“Alright, people! Circle time! We’re playing spin the bottle!”
My stomach drops to the floor. “No. Absolutely not.”
“It’s just a game,” Luca says, but he doesn’t look thrilled either.
“It’s social torture disguised as a game.”
“That means everyone!” Jace is already herding people toward the living room. “No exceptions. Luca, bring your little pet.”
The word ‘pet’ hits like a physical blow. I’m already turning toward the door when Luca catches my arm.
“Hey.” His voice is soft. “Don’t let him get to you.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one being treated like a rescue animal.”
“Noah.” He steps in front of me, blocking my escape route. “Stay. Please.”
“Why?”
“Because…” He runs a hand through his hair, looking almost nervous. “Because I want you here. With me.”
The way he says it makes something dangerous flutter in my chest. Like maybe ‘with me’ means more than just physical proximity.
“This is going to be a disaster,” I say, but I’m already following him to the circle.
“Probably,” he agrees. “But we’ll survive it together.”
We sit down on Jace’s gross carpet, and I immediately regret every life choice that led me here. The circle is mostly varsity guys and girls who look like they stepped out of a magazine. Then there’s me, in my hoodie and anxiety, trying to blend into the furniture.
“Rules are simple,” Jace announces, holding up an empty beer bottle like it’s Excalibur. “Bottle lands on you, you kiss whoever spun it. No exceptions, no cop-outs.”
“What if it lands on the same gender?” someone asks.
“Even better,” Jace grins. “We’re all friends here.”
I catch Luca’s eye. He looks as thrilled as I feel, which is to say, not at all.
The first few spins are predictably chaotic. People kiss, laugh, make exaggerated gagging noises. I sit there trying to become one with the carpet, praying to whatever gods exist that this bottle has a personal vendetta against pointing in my direction.
Then Jace picks up the bottle again.
“Your turn,” he says, making direct eye contact with me. There’s something predatory in his smile that makes my skin crawl.
I spin it hard, deliberately. The bottle rotates once, twice, the sound cutting through the suddenly quiet room. Slower. Slower.
My heart is hammering so hard I’m sure everyone can hear it.
The bottle stops.
Dead center on Luca.