"Nine hundred, going twice —"
"Sold!" The auctioneer banged his gavel, beaming. "Congratulations to Walter, to the Children's Hospital, and to our newest contender for 'Blue Ribbon Bull!'"
Logan felt his knees go weak, and he sagged against the wall.
Holy shit
"Holy shit, man," Ashton echoed, clapping his hands together as he dissolved into laughter. "Noah — you got beat byOz!"
"Yeah," Logan agreed, swallowing as a beaming Oz stepped off the stage, making his way directly for Logan with the biggest smile on his face. "He sure did."
"You fuckingidiot," Oz laughed as he drew near, the sheer brilliance of his grin undermining every word. "Where the hell were you planning to get that kind of money?"
"Oh, you know," Logan murmured. "Sold some old junk I didn't need anymore."
"Spring cleaning?"
"Yeah, guess so," Logan grinned. "Gotta make room for the important things."
“Oz!” a woman's voice cried out, and a few vague memories combined with the way Oz’s face lit up at the sound made it an easy guess who its owner was.
“Mom?” Oz said, turning just as the shorter woman enfolded him in a hug.
“I'm so sorry we were late, baby,” she told Oz. “Someone called and left a message that there'd been a mixup, and the whole thing had been moved to tomorrow night.”
“Thankfully, my old roommate called me up; said he was in town and going to this thing, and set me straight,” said the salt-and-pepper man who joined them, who could only be Oz’s father. “We rushed right over — didn't even think to stop by the ATM to get out cash. Did we miss it?”
“Yeah,” Oz answered with a wry little smile. “By just a few seconds. But that's okay, you're here now.”
"That we are!” Mrs. Mercer said, her hand flitting here and there over the front of Oz’s suit to smooth out invisible wrinkles. “And oh, Oz, you look so handsome. George — doesn't he look handsome?”
“Of course he does,” Mr. Mercer agreed. “He'smyson, after all.”
"Dad!" Oz mock-whined, grinning as his dad reached out to tap Oz's pocket square. “Looking sharp, kiddo.”
“Wait – ” said Logan, abruptly turning to scan the room as he realized – “There’s something missing.”
"Did they not have any dress shoes your size, honey?" Mrs. Mercer asked, gesturing towards Oz's sneakers.
"Oh, these are Logan’s," Oz said nervously. "There weren't many left that looked decent, and he said this would look better."
"And I was right," Logan flashed him a smile, distracted.
"Logan…" Mr. Mercer said slowly. "You’re Stewart’s son, aren’t you? Stewart St. James, the football coach for San Morado High?”
“Yes, sir," Logan nodded, leaning forward to shake Mr. Mercer's outstretched hand.
"I seem to remember you and Wally — "
Mrs. Mercer cleared her throat pointedly.
" — and Oz," Mr. Mercer corrected himself. "Used to get into some spats at school."
Logan grimaced. "Yeah. I – "
"Oh, Logan's gotten a lot more bearable these days," Oz interrupted him in a breezy tone. It earned a grateful look from Logan, who did not especially want to explain to his boyfriend's dad why he used to bully his son. "He even makes a half-decent roommate… Well,mostof the time."
Logan mock-huffed, hamming it up for Oz's parents, sure, but mostly because it made the warm smile on Oz's face tick up a full size.
