With Cameron's arms around me, it hit me how much I missed this, missed him. I rested my head against his chest, swaying to the beat of an imaginary slow song even though I was sure the song actually playing was closer to 200 bpm. 

It was a bit unusual dancing with him with his team here, but half the team was too wasted, and the others had already shared how nonchalant they were about us being...something. I wasn't sure where this would go or if we could really call this a thing, to begin with, but the familiarity and comfort were still well worth the curious onlookers. Besides, we were too busy looking at each other in the dim bar lights to be concerned about who was looking and what they thought of us. 

Even though Cameron didn't drink much, his face was still flushed, like he had an Asian glow, something I would tease him about later. 

Cameron's pouty lips seemed to deepen as he looked at me, his drunken mind staring through me like he was trying to solve a puzzle. In hindsight, this was quite true; I was a complicated puzzle that Cameron had struggled for years to figure out, and when he had figured it out as we dated, I tore the puzzle apart—destroying the perfect picture of us, just for him to return to my life and try to put it back together again. Only this time, I wouldn't tear it apart, not if I could help it. Sure, we'd return to our colleges Monday night, but that didn't mean I had to ghost him again as I had after graduation. 

"What's with that look?" I teased him. 

His eyes blinked as if he was trying to blink away being drunk. "I...I'm still very much in love with you."

I sucked in a breath, pulling away to look at him better. "Do you, now?"

He nodded, his hands resting along my hips. 

"You're drunk, Cam."

"Only a little," he chided. "It doesn't make it untrue."

My chest tightened. "You really mean that?"

Cameron bit his bottom lip in nervous habit, his eyes widening as our eyes met."When I said I loved you, I had never been more sure of anything else. There was never a moment where I didn't love you." He looked down at the floor before looking up at me through the lashes of his signature puppy-dog look. "I still am very much in love with you, Ethan Wong."

While my immediate thought was to deny it and tell him he was mistaken, that he couldn't possibly think that after all I did. But his confession had rendered me speechless. 

He grimaced, closing an eye, and added, "Well, that wasn't how I was going to say that."

"What?" I breathed. 

Cameron mumbled something incoherently, then cleared his throat. "It was a longer speech in my head. And well, I told myself I'd do it sober and without my team here to eavesdrop potentially."

Kenji, who had been dancing with another teammate behind us, turned innocently. "I wasn't."

"Sure," Cameron said sarcastically as Eric slipped through the crowd.

Eric muttered something along the lines of, "Can't you see they're having a moment, idiot," before pulling Kenji away. 

We laughed at their comedic timing, caught with our hands still intimately on each other. Though I was sure the team would have many questions, there was one I shared with them.

What were we?

And possibly, what would happen after the weekend was over? We had to return to our colleges tomorrow and worry about the remaining classes and exams before graduation. 

Cameron and I shared a look. There was still so much we had to say, things we needed to address, including us.

"Should we get out of here?" I glanced at the exit. "The hotel's only a few blocks away."

He looked back at his team, then back at me. He nodded, pulling out his phone, likely to text his team, before slipping it back into his pocket. 

He grabbed my hand and guided us out of the building without hesitation. 

We weaved through the nightlife of Broadway Street as if we were dancing in the night lights of New York. It was how I imagined our high school graduation trip should've gone, exploring the city at late hours, just enjoying the sights with Cameron by my side.

The whole way back to the hotel, our hands never left each other.

Cameron and I returned to our hotel room, facing each other on his bed, neither of us ready to fall asleep or say what we so desperately wanted to say earlier. Even without the attention of his team or other bar-goers, the idea of voicing our feelings was a bigger hurdle than I thought imaginable. 

"Ethan," he bemoaned, pressing his forehead to mine. 

"Yes?"

He mumbled, "It hurts."

"Your head?" He nodded. "Cam, that's what happens when you drink too much."

"It wasn't that much," he groaned. "It was like two or three drinks."

I could still taste the alcohol from his breath as he leaned his forehead against mine, likely trying to still the dizziness or work past the raging headache. He knew he couldn't handle his liquor but had never learned from before; he always had to prove that he could keep up with me, even though it was a futile attempt. I wasn't sure where I got this tolerance for alcohol; I didn't really like alcohol, to begin with.

"Eth?"

"Cam," I said in the same tone. 

"I meant it," he said. "About my feelings. They never changed, Eth. It was why I couldn't date or fathom being with anyone else. I really did and do love you."

I frowned. "I didn't even tell you I loved you back then."

Cameron blinked, his eyes struggling to focus. Whether from exhaustion or the alcohol, I wasn't sure. "Some things are better said un left—no, better unsaid. Left unsaid!"

I laughed at his stumbling efforts, but it was still heartwarming to hear from him. The fact that he was comforting me even though I practically had to drag him back here was kind of adorable. Though I shouldn't have laughed as he bared his heart out, Cameron was more adorable when he was drunk than I thought possible. 

"But, I'm serious," he said. "I was so worried that I had said something to upset you, maybe had been too affectionate. I know you and your parents didn't see eye to eye very much about us dating—let alone expressing emotions and feelings as I do with my family. I worried maybe I had offended you and your family. And maybe I did care too much, but I realized, isn't that what love is supposed to be like? Caring for someone because you want the absolute best for them? Someone that makes you a better person?

"In college, I realized it felt like I was missing a big part of my life. I realized you made me a better person, and I couldn't imagine a life without Ethan in it. As crazy as it sounds, I missed you far more than I missed my parents."

His admission left a bittersweet taste in my mouth. It was heartwarming to hear him say that, but Cameron had made me a better person. I don't think he takes that credit as well as he should. 

"And, well," he faltered. "I guess it doesn't really matter what I say. What's more important is what you feel. You don't have to feel the same, and I don't expect you to. It's been a while, and it's okay to miss something or someone and not like them or care about them anymore. I just needed to say this or—"

"That's not the case," I said a little too quickly, pausing to choose my following words carefully. "I do care about you."

"You were too sweet," I added before regretting how it could have sounded negative. "You were always so kind, Cam. Even now, you're keeping my feelings in mind. That's something very few people in my life have done for me. It would be a lie if I said that that hasn't made me reevaluate and become a better person. Or tried to, at least."

He tilted his head. "Oh."

"Thank you," I said. "And I'll say that I am sorry again. Though—"

"You don't have to," he finished for me.

"I don't have to," I repeated. "But I will because I...I wouldn't be here without you. And I mean that. I would not have liked who I'd become if you, Cameron Langley, hadn't walked into my life. If you hadn't stepped into that music room, asked me about what I was playing, and made me smile ever since I would have been a completely different person—someone I'd absolutely hate."

He pouted, his eyes glossing over like he'd start bawling his eyes out, so I squeezed his hand, pressing our foreheads again so he could focus on my face rather than whatever sad thoughts crawled into his mind. 

He sniffled, his eyes peeking open as he leaned into me, his hand resting on my knee. Before I could ask what he needed or wanted to say, his lips pressed against mine. The taste of alcohol was still there, potent as the smell despite how gentle and unassuming his lips felt on mine. 

Before I could fully process that Cameron was kissing me or could reciprocate it, he pulled away, his lips parting as if to say something. 

"Shit, sorry," Cameron mumbled, his face turning sour. Somewhere between a frown and a pout. "I shouldn't have done that."

"Done what?" I teased. "Kiss me?"

He nodded, his eyes blinking in slow motion. "I should've asked first."

I hummed. "True."

"Sorry," he repeated.

"It's okay," I said, admitting, "It's not like I didn't like it."

He blinked, most likely not comprehending what I said. 

"But you don't..." he trailed. 

"Don't what?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"Cameron." I placed my hand atop his. "You know I still care about you, right? And you know I'm not used to saying things like 'I love you' or expressing my feelings well. But I do like you a lot—still do. I don't think my feelings really changed since then, either."

He blinked. "Oh."

I almost laughed at his expression. "Ask me again," I prompted. "To kiss me."

He tilted his head. "To kiss you?"

I nodded, and he asked, "Can I...kiss you?"

Before he could fully finish asking, my lips were on his. My hands trailed to his neck and waist, pulling him in close. While it only lasted briefly, it felt like all those years of uncertainty and anxiety melted away. 

"I think I love you," the words tumbled from my mouth as we parted. My face flushed as I looked up at him, our lips just an inch apart from each other. He blinked, his eyes searching mine before softening. The corner of our lips pulled into a smile as we pressed our lips together again, falling into the steady rhythm of what we had.