Bo froze. His thought process was broken, and, unable to process how much time had passed, embarrassment coursed through him. His mouth hung ajar. Bo withdrew his hand, uncomfortable and uncertain. “Sorry.” Bo started off towards the terrace door again before something shriveled up in him. Turning, he reached out for the guest again.

Again, the guest shuddered at his touch. He turned to Bo.

“Hi, I don’t...can I talk to you for a second?”

He met Bo’s stare, watching. His eyes scanned over him for a long moment before he asked, “Sorry, say that again? I think I blacked out.”

“Can I talk to you?”

“Yeah. Sure.” The guest stood, legs wobbling.

He swallowed back a groan, tugging the guest into the thin space between built-in wine refrigerators and, presumably, swing doors to the bar in the nightclub just one wall away. He didn’t bother smiling apologetically to the rest of the table. “Are you with me?”

“Now?”

“Generally speaking?”

“I’ll say yes.”

“Okay, that’s...better than nothing.” Bo withdrew his touch. His skin tingled, and Bo planted his hands firmly at his sides, begging himself to act normal. “So I know this is absolutely ridiculous of me to ask and feel free to say ‘no’ because it’s...ridiculous and stupid and a lot of me to ask, but I was basically just given an ultimatum that I want to ignore but can’t because my parents might kill me.”

“There’s so much to unpack right there.” The shorter man winced at the comment as if knowing it was the wrong thing to say.

Bo sighed. “Although, at this point, death would probably be the better option. But I feel like you’d be able to mellow her out and deal with helping me survive this weekend. Can you talk to me for, like, 5 minutes here and there, and then talk my sister out of trying to get me to socialize? Try to explain to her that I just want to sit alone and not embarrass myself more than I already have?”

He blinked. “I...wow, I – ” The guest scoffed. “Can you say that again? I literally have no idea what you just said.”

“What happened? Where did I lose you?”

“Not sure, to be honest.”

Bo glanced over the guest’s shoulder, eyeing Ada eyeing him back. His stomach shriveled up for a second. “Jus – I need you to laugh,” he said, forcing a snarl to his lips, “and nod at me.” A bubble of awkward, too-loud giggling erupted from his clenched teeth, washing over the background music and barely over the quiet chatter. A few people turned their way. The expression dissolved into embarrassment, his face covered by his hands. “Oh my God, I’m going to die.”

The shorter man’s face, flushed pink, grinned. “That was amazing.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“I’ll pay you $20 to do that again.”

“That’s nowhere near enough for me to do it again, and no way in fucking Hell.”

The guest smirked, covering the sound with his hand. “Okay. So, in layman’s terms, you want me to distract your sister so you...can hide?”

He groaned.

“Then...like the clear intellectual you are – ”

“Oh, my God.”

“ – can you please tell me what you want me to do.”

“I don’t want to be here.”

“I know, you told me.”

“My sister keeps trying to pair me up with people she thinks I’ll be good conversation with, except she isn’t listening to me, and I really don’t want to put that kind of time and energy into that when I know I’ll never see them again after this. Also, I just feel bad taking up people’s time when...you know, I’ll just end up embarrassing myself so badly that death would again be a good alternative to it. Also, again, I’m never going to see any of these people after this.”

“Optimistic.”

“Have I lost you?”

“Why me, though? Based on that, you shouldn’t be talking to me at all.”

“Because you – ” He had a point, though. While the conversation was more sustaining than any other he’d had all night, Bo couldn’t ignore the wiggle of self-consciousness in his stomach with every word said crookedly, every lopsided sentence that made him sound whiny or pathetic. Neither would he admit that the guest’s smile made him squirm. That his stare made the world softer, easier to manage. That his hands were distracting, and Bo could smell his cologne when he leaned in. That, of all people, there was no one else.

Bo groaned through his teeth. “You... don’t suck at conversation?” he forced out. He tugged on the guest’s arm, moving him to the side as a waiter passed. He withdrew his touch immediately after. “You’re still talking to me, aren’t you?”

“Mostly to see where this conversation goes. Morbid curiosity, really.” The guest’s smirk remained, effortlessly moving from teasing to understanding.

“Sorry. I just –”

“No, if I wasn’t clear enough when we were back on the terrace, you’re refreshing.”

“Still don’t know if that’s an insult or not.”

“It isn’t. I promise.”

Bo sank into the four words like a child sinking into their blanket just pulled from the drier, warm, shivering, and desperate for that warmth to linger. He stammered over his words before whispering, “Again, feel free to say ‘no.’ You don’t have to be weighed down by me taking up your time all night. All weekend, if you can stand me for that long.”

“If I didn’t like talking to you, I wouldn’t be standing here, still.”

“You’re just saying that to be nice.”

“No,” the guest said, between a whisper and a breath. “I’m not.”

He frowned. That was not the answer Bo wanted to hear or needed. “I...would it be okay if I...came over to bother you? Every so often? Just to keep my sister off my back?”

“I thought it was only for 5 minutes.”

“You know what I mean, though...right?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Bother me as much as you want.”