Resigned, I hand my phone to Todd. His eyes water as he nods along to whatever Lumi is saying. I guide him a little ways off the dance floor where we won’t get trampled.
“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” Todd tells Lumi. “I wish I could hug you right now.” He nods some more. “Yeah, okay.”
I accept the phone from Todd’s outstretched hand and bring it to my ear. “Yeah?”
“Sorry. It had to be done,” Lumi says.
“What…”
Todd’s arms come around me so tight I lose my breath.
“Text me in the morning,” Lumi says, her voice already getting quieter. “We’ll grab waffles.”
Todd sniffles in my ear. “Sometimes I don’t know what I did to deserve such great friends.”
I pat his back a couple times as I slip my phone into my pocket, my voice strained from the lack of oxygen. “Much as it pains me to admit, you’re a genuinely good guy, Todd. You deserve good things in return.”
His sniffles intensify.
“I, uh, think we should probably get you home now.”
“Yeah, okay,” he agrees.
“So… You might need to let me go?”
After the longest moment, during which I start to grow concerned for my lungs, Todd pulls back. His eyes are glassy, an effect that somehow makes him even more endearing. I wish I could hate him for it, but I never could.
“Here,” I say, guiding Todd’s arm around my shoulder.
“Need a hand?” Trevor asks, the man having materialized in front of us.
“I already have two,” Todd answers. “Hey, Library Guy.”
“Trevor,” said Library Guy reminds him, his lips twitching.
“Trevor,” Todd amends, looking so earnest I start to fear what’s about to come out of his mouth. “Just so you know. This guy?” He hooks a thumb my way. “He’s burnt.”
I let out a sigh as Todd frowns.
“Wait, no. He’s a little bitty marshmallow. No, that’s not right, either. What I mean to say is he’s soft and small, you get me?”
“Oh myGod, please stop talking,” I beg.
Trevor waves us forward, clearing a path toward the door and looking amused all the while.
“I think I lost it,” Todd says quietly.
“Yeah,” I agree. “I think so, too.”
Todd lets me steer him out of the bar without complaint, far more easygoing in his sentimental drunk state than his flighty one. Small mercies.
Trevor steps out onto the sidewalk with us, seemingly unaffected by the cool evening air. He crosses his arms casually, a move I try hard not to follow with my gaze. “Did you guys drive here?”
“No, we took a cab,” I tell him, batting Todd’s hand away when he starts to pet my cheek.
Trevor nods, looking pleased by the simple fact that we’re smart college drunks. Not thatI’mdrunk. “Cabs run by here frequently. Should only be a minute, but I can call for one if you want?”
“Do you always offer concierge services to the tipsy patrons that leave your bar?”
