“Shagging?” Heathasked.
“You know what? It’s none of my business. I have a meal to cook.” Rafe opened the fridge to get the green beans, but immediately shut it. “Like I said, it’sobviouslynone of my business, and you don’t have toanswer—”
“We shagged twice. Both times we were perfectly pissed. We had a good laugh about it,” Heath said, and Rafe breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want to host a dinner filled withdrama.
“Does Louisa know?” Rafe whispered, just in case she bargedin.
“No. And she doesn’t haveto.”
“Would she bejealous?”
Heath and Eamonn exchanged a look that said they didn’t know the answer forsure.
“Let’s just keep it between us,” Eamonnsaid.
“Well, you and her were all about keeping it casual. Will it be awkward if Louisa is at dinner no matter what?” Rafe got the green beans for real this time and began snapping off the ends. “I feel like you guys have barely talked to each other for weeks. You’ve downgraded to acquaintances or something, particularly since she’s been hanging out with Nathanmore.”
From what Rafe could gauge from the times they all were together, Heath and Louisa had mastered the British stiff upper lip tradition of holding in one’s feelings. The détente continued. Though judging by Heath’s solemn expression currently, Rafe realized that was only a one-sidedagreement.
Eamonn got a beer from the fridge. He offered one to Rafe, who declined. “I need to stay sober and in the cooking zone. But you guys go on ahead. Thanksgiving isn’t complete without a drunkuncle.”
“What’s in that?” Heath asked, taking the beer Raferefused.
“It’s an expression. There’s always one relative at Thanksgiving who gets way too drunk and starts saying inappropriate, offensive, and blatantly racist things at the dinnertable.”
“That only happens at Thanksgiving?” Eamonn asked. “You Yanks need to drinkmore.”
Rafe put Heath to work chopping up onion and garlic, while Eamonn was in charge of sautéing the greenbeans.
“Question for you, mates,” Rafe said. Mate didn’t really roll off the tongue for him. “Does Stroude have like a dance-a-thon event or something likethat?”
“What’s a dance-a-thon?” Heathasked.
“It’s where you dance nonstop for a whole day or more to raise money for charity. And each hour is a different kind of music, and people dress up in costumes to dance. The whole school gets into it. Anything likethat?”
Heath and Eamonn looked at each other like Rafe described something out of a science fiction novel. Like most traditions, it sounded weird for anyone who wasn’t part ofit.
“That sounds exhausting,” Heath said. “And why would you wearcostumes?”
“I don’t know. To get into it. It’s fun. At Browerton, they do a dance-a-thon that lasts for thirtyhours.”
“Sounds a bit dodgy,” Heath said, wiping away an onion-inducedtear.
“Yeah. I guess you have to be there.” Rafe smiled to himself. He checked the weather report, and Stroude would be lucky to get an inch of snow all winter. For the first real snowfall of the year, kids at Browerton would run onto the main quad in boots and their underwear for SnowSpree.
Rafe looked up and caught Eamonn staring at him like he was trying to read his mind, but it was an inside joke he couldn’tget.
Heath went to his room to wipe his eyes. That left Eamonn and Rafe, separated by more than a kitchen table at themoment.
“I’m just waiting on final word from my study abroad advisor to make sure I officially have the green light, but she says it’s pretty much a go. I updated my health insurance policy to extend coverage, and that was the last step.” Rafe hoped that Eamonn would scoop him up in his arms and swing him around the kitchen whilst making out. Or something likethat.
“Will staying here hurt your chances of getting into that BISHoP program?” heasked.
“I can apply from here and interview viaSkype.”
“Will that look bad? You told me all about how every detail matters ininterviews.”
“No,” Rafe said, although Eamonn did have a point. But why was he so concerned about BISHoP all of a sudden? Why was he bringing that up instead of celebrating?It was crunch time, and maybe he doesn’t want me here.Rafe thought things would be different with him, but maybe Eamonn was just another guy he was scaringoff.
“Shit,” Rafe said, opening the fridge. “We’re out of butter. I thought I gotenough.”
“I’ll run out to the corner store and pick up somesticks.”
“Thanks.”
Eamonn kissed him goodbye before he left the kitchen. He was a good boyfriend, and Rafe worried that the only thing keeping them together was an expirationdate.
