Maybe she was right. Patrick couldn’t believe he was thinking this, but maybe it was time to close the book on fall.
10
Spencer
Spencer was the saddest bottle of ketchup anyone had ever seen.
He drooped on Ryan’s couch sipping his beer in the middle of a boisterous Halloween party. There were plenty of single guys milling about, but he couldn’t feign interest in any of them. And to be fair, they weren’t interested in him either. Guys who otherwise might’ve flirted with him or suggested they go into the bathroom for a few minutes were keeping their distance.
“Dude, this is a party, not a funeral.” Ryan stood over him, a literal ball of flame. He had cardboard pieces of fire taped to himself. He looked ridiculous by himself, but it made sense when he stood by Justin, his new boyfriend, dressed as a firefighter. They were a cute couple - Ryan tall, broad, and pale. Justin short, lean, and dark. Spencer was glad there was no awkwardness between him and Justin.
“I’m just taking a breather.” Spencer took a sip of his beer and swirled it around his mouth until he decided to swallow.
“Don’t make me get Justin’s axe.” Ryan held out his hand, which Spencer knew would not go away. He grabbed a hold, and his friend pulled him up. He followed Ryan to the back porch, which was fortunately empty of smokers at the moment.
It was a chilly night, made especially cold after leaving a hot, crowded apartment. Spencer filled his lungs with the fresh air, then filled his mouth with another beer.
“Call him,” Ryan said.
“Who?”
“Patrick.”
Spencer’s heart fluttered at his name before sinking into a pit of mud.
“Listen, I don’t want to take you away from party-hosting responsibilities. I’m tired. I’m just going to go home.”
Spencer tried to head for the door, but Ryan stopped him with a firm hand on his chest. Spencer had a few inches and few more muscles on Ryan, but in the dead-serious look Ryan gave him, he knew who would win this fight.
“Dude, you’ve been like this all freaking month. Do you really want to go home? I doubt Patrick is home.”
Spencer’s fists tightened at the thought of what Patrick might be up to, or who with, tonight.
“What the hell happened?” Ryan asked.
“What do you care? You don’t like Patrick. You thought he was weird.”
“He is weird, but a good kind of weird. A weird that makes you really happy.” Ryan made Spencer meet his eyes. “You like him. You, the guy who doesn’t do mush, ya got mushy.”
He hated how well Ryan knew him. “So what! He doesn’t want to talk to me. He said so himself. I thought he was into me, but then he wasn’t.”
Spencer couldn’t let himself get unglued by the screwiness of love and relationships. They made no sense. In sports, there were clear rules and clear winners. He wanted clarity in his life.
Clarity, not mushiness.
“What happened? You two were spending every minute together, and then it stopped.”
Spencer hadn’t been able to bring himself to talk about the night on the roof with Ryan or with anyone else. Whenever he thought about the way Patrick looked at him, the way he definitively stated that they weren’t friends and walked past him icier than Antarctica, it made his insides go dry.
“Hey.” Ryan used a softer voice, his eyes kinder. “You can tell me.”
“He’d been acting weird, and I told him it felt like he didn’t want to be friends anymore, and then he stormed off.” Spencer shrugged, still confused by the chain of events.
Ryan slapped his palm to his own forehead. He clearly was not. Could a whole body cringe?
“What?”
“Dude.” His palm now covered his entire face, as if Spencer was a real-life YouTube fail.
