“Trying to sort out my paper wasn’t a good idea.”
Liam looked over nervously. “Okay.”
Coury smiled, eyes soft in the dim light of the room. “I’ll even promise not to drink, so I won’t be hung over.”
“I wasn’t worried about that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you have more than a beer or two.”
“Observant, are we?” He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t like how it makes me feel the next day. I’m a master of nursing one—or two, max—all night.”
Liam grinned. “Just don’t drink the piss-warm beer.”
“Exactly.” Coury checked his schedule. “I have PT at five. How about I pick you up at your house, we grab some food, and head back in time for me to shower before the party starts.”
“Sounds good.” Better than good.
It sounded like a date.
Again.
* * *
Midnight was getting closer, and still he hadn’t worked up the courage to tell Coury. Two beers had loosened Liam up considerably, and he couldn’t stop grinning, butthosewords were still trapped behind a nervous lump in his throat.
He looked over at Coury. They had sequestered themselves in a small alcove layered with cushions, just off the throngs of partiers. Liam had seen a couple lazily kissing where they sat under the gridded window, and when it’d freed up, a braver part of him hauled Coury there.
“Can hear you better now,” he’d said.
Coury had stretched out his long legs and stuffed a cushion between his back and the wall, offering one to Liam. Now he smiled lazily toward the crowds, at ease in the room.
The party guests were exactly as Liam expected. A lot of single girls grouped together, and a lot of single guys determined to pry one of them away. Some couples sat around exchanging sugary laughs and tender kisses.
Almost everyone held a red cup or a water bottle. And for this time of year, what some of them were wearing was insane. Far too cold for showing off half their stomachs or going shirtless.
Liam side-eyed Coury. Although . . .
Coury caught him looking and lifted an eyebrow.
“Do frat guys always take their shirts off at parties?” Liam said.
“I imagine they’re proud of their hard work.”
“I imagine they want to get laid.”
Coury choked on a gulp of water and laughed. “Yeah, that too.”
Liam stared down at his empty cup, wishing it would miraculously fill with honey-colored liquid courage.
Coury peered into it, too. Their hair brushed and dizziness—unrelated to drink—fingered through Liam, slow and thorough.
“I’m not sure you can tell fortunes with leftover foam.”
Liam angled it better for Coury to see. “Can’t you tell? I’m in for a memorable night.”
Coury snorted and picked himself up. “I’m gonna grab another water. Guard our spot?”
Our spot. Liam liked the intimacy that suggested.
“In that case.” Liam lifted his cup. “Refill?”
