I flick the stem of a strawberry off our saucer plate with conviction. It flies across the table like a tiny football and lands in someone’s abandoned glass of water. Score! “Sunday night.”
Connor proceeds to yank me out of my chair and guide me forcefully toward the dance floor, despite my protests of, “I don’t wanna bug him. He is spending time with his family and sister. Hey, don’t be so rough, dude! This suit is rented!”
And then I’m dumped in front of Skylar, and Connor—his task complete—takes off back toward his table with Alan.
Skylar meets my eyes, his family and his new brother-in-law’s family dancing all around us, loud and colorful and happy.
I see the same thing written on his face. We are both probably having a similar emotional journey, despite it being his sister’s big day.
But I’m not gonna sulk. “You look amazing.”
Skylar smiles. “Speak for yourself, handsome.”
Suddenly the upbeat song ends, and at once and with comical grace, it turns into something romantic, sweeping, and in Spanish. All of the drunk partiers clear out, and only couples and lovebirds remain on the sprawling dance floor. The newlyweds are among them, sweetly enclosed in one another’s arms.
I offer Skylar my hand. “Can I have this dance, good sir?”
He smirks, then wordlessly takes my hand.
I bring him out into the middle of the big dance floor, then smoothly pull him into my arms as we start to slow dance to the romantic music. A soft guitarrón plays as a Mexican singer’s voice fills the room. I have no idea what he’s singing in Spanish, but from the emotional melody in his deep, thick, baritone voice, I suspect I don’t need to.
Skylar lays his head on my shoulder halfway through the song. I put a kiss on his head, then smile as I continue to sway with him to the music.
Nothing even needs to be said.
We both know.
“They ran out of chocolate-covered strawberries,” he mumbles against my shoulder.
“I know,” I mumble. “I’m sorry. I ate a hundred.”
“I ate none.”
“Why? They’re your favorite.”
“I know.” He lifts his head off of my shoulder. “Hey, Brett?”
“Yeah, Sky? What is it?”
“I think maybe I had it all backwards that first night we reconnected. When I … unintentionally made you feel like you were a loser.”
“What do you mean?”
His hold on me tightens just a little bit, nearly unnoticed. “I have a lot of things I need to figure out with my own life. Why was I so quick to judge yours? I need to figure out what truly makes me fulfilled. Software, apps … corporate offices … Maybe despite how good I’ve felt these past few days, it was possibly the worst time for us to reconnect.”
I flinch. “The worst time …?”
“I’m chasing a job with AppuCore back home,” he goes on. “My sister just married her sweetheart and is moving here. My parents are trying to sell our old house. Everything is in the air.”
“It’s alright, it’s alright,” I try to assure him.
He pulls away and looks into my eyes. “I want to believe it is, but … the truth is, timing has never been on our side.” He bites his lip and peers off at the other lovers on the dance floor. The song strokes a dramatic, curious chord. “I’m gonna be heading back Sunday night. Fuck … I don’t want to say goodbye to you again.”
“We don’t have to say goodbye. We can just say ‘see you later’ and hope for the best.”
Skylar chuckles at that. “That’s what I had told myself when you left the frat.”
I blink. “What?”
“That it was just ‘see you later’ and I’d … hope for the best. Whatever that means.” He shrugs and gestures at us. “Here is our best, apparently. Three years later, living in separate cities, living separate lives, never bothering to send as much as a text …”
“Skylar, c’mon. We can still make the most of the time we have, can’t we? Haven’t you had fun?”
“Of course I’ve had fun.”
“And won’t you visit your sister from time to time? She’ll need you.”
“She has Emilio and they’re planning to get preggers right away. Oh.” He chuckles dryly, then rolls his eyes. “Oops, I let the cat out of the bag. Was supposed to be a secret …”
“Look, we can make this work, Skylar,” I insist anyway, batting away his objections. “We can visit each other. I can see you on the weekends. I’ve got a lovely lenient lesbian boss who loves me and a roommate who’s occupied with his own love story. Maybe this is when my lifestyle pays off. I’m free. I’m free for you. We can make this work!”
“I meant what I said in that confession.”
His voice has hardened. I stop rambling and bring my face closer to his. “What part?”
“Every part. But … specifically … ‘I am in love with my best friend’ …”