I didn’t want to show it, but that last remark from Alex really burned. I did regret the way I’d ended things with Adam. I didn’t think he would still be sore about it, but it was a point of shame. I’d taken a hard look at myself after that, and resolved not to be like my folks, not to be like, say, Jessa. Not to be like the herd.

Hence, when it came time for selection, and most of the guests had recently had their one drink for the night, so they could be of relatively sound mind and body before leaving... I had just pounded my third.

“A. R. We gotta A. R. up in this bitch? Oh... right. It’s you.”

And Adam, bless him, he just smiled kindly and said, in his gorgeous manly tenor: “Yep. It’s me. Shall we talk in the hall?”

Someone in back, whose face I couldn’t see, began snickering. But he cut off with a curse when Jessa elbowed him in the gut. Everyone else either didn’t know about the elephant in the room, or followed Alex and Jessa’s lead and kept their respectful silence.

“NEXT!” she shouted.

It was blessedly quiet out in the hallway.

I kicked myself for the words that spilled out of my mouth first, but I went with it:

“Did you know we would both be here?”

Adam waved his hands in innocence. “Nope, nope, nope. Jessa didn’t tell us guys who-all is coming. That’s apparently how it works. Still, I am sorry it played out like this.”

“It feels a bit on-the-nose.”

He nodded. “I would really like to get to know each other again. But for tonight, maybe we should just go our separate ways.”

“That’s, uh, not gonna be possible. I need you to be my designated driver. I couldn’t possibly take the Yamaha home in this condition.”

“You ride? That’s badass. I wish I rode.”

I waved him off. “You? Think I’m badass? Get outta here. Actually, let me show you the old hog. And then we’ll get outta here.”

The sky over Asheville proper was cloudless, but as light-polluted as ever. I had a moment of nostalgia for the summer when mom, dad, sis and I went RV-ing in the Smoky Mountains. We’d really pulled together as a family after the whole Adam-gate thing had left me so distraught I had to go into therapy. Practically unheard of for our family. O’Connors solved their problems in the traditional ways: fighting, fucking, drinking and target shooting. Sometimes in that order.

Anyway, it prompted me to ask:

“Where d’you live nowadays? Somewhere with more stars than this, I hope?”

Adam tilted his hand in a so-so gesture. “Morganton. It’s still pretty washed over, but drive out 20 minutes into the Blue Ridge and you can see the Milky Way real good.”

“Shit, I would love to see that. Take me up there and I’ll suck your soul out your dick.”

“Hm. Let’s start with a trip to the nearest Waffle House, to see if we can’t suck the booze out your stomach with some carbs.”

“Make that Cook Out, and you got yourself a deal.”

One chicken sandwich with fries and a peach cobbler milkshake later, I was, in fact, feeling a bit more like myself. I’d narrowly avoided becoming a sloppy emotional drunk in his presence; I thanked my luck and his quick action for that.

“So,” I said in the drive-thru lot, in the passenger seat of his Forester SUW.

“So. Talk to me, Millie.”

I took a deep breath.

“Okay. For starters, let’s get the obvious out of the way. I’m sorry how things left off Junior year. That was shitty of me.”

He sort of shrug-nodded. “It was, but... we were kids? And I’m sorry too. It’s my fault we both ended up in that situation. I should have never put those words to paper, knowing how words have a tendency to get out.”

“About that. Not to be rude, and honestly no judgment, but… Are you…”

“Still the Dread Ass Pirate Rzeznik?” he asked. I nodded. “Well, yes, but actually no. You’re no townie, so I might as well say it: I’m bisexual. So I’ve given and received plenty of ass. But, like, also calmed the fuck down about it. How about you?”

“I’m also bi, amusingly enough. And, uh… I did try anal sex. Doesn’t do it for me, though.” I took another deep breath, and sighed. “It feels really good to have all that off my chest, and know we both turned out alright. I’d had this fleeting, crazy thought that you were still out there nursing a crush.”

Adam grinned. “We’re too awesome to be kept down like that.”

“You are so right. Say. Do you remember when we ran into each other last year at Queen City mall?”

“Whuuut? Get outta here. I think I’d remember you looking this fine.”

“Pssh, you flatterer. So can I hang out at your place for the night? I don’t know if I want to do anything sexually, but I could at least take a load off, and catch up.”

“I’d fucking love to.” Adam practically flung the car into reverse, and I had to brace myself to not spill my shake.

We talked the whole ride about what we’d been up to. My years at Vitesse. Adam’s time at UNC, where he dual-majored in history and communications. It turned out he and Alex had partially overlapped there, though of course, it was easy to not run into someone on a campus that size.

“Before I enrolled, I lost three semesters to a dark spell,” he explained. “I had an incel phase, I had failure to launch, and in retrospect a lot of issues from denying my queerness. I got depressed. Then I got into coke. Luckily I hit bottom fast. I am not cut out for that world. Got beat up, got busted, went into rehab, picked myself up.”

“I’m glad you made it out. How’d you stay out, keep yourself from relapsing?”

Adam raised his left wrist from the wheel in answer. “I found a better drug. This.”

“Not a bad choice of drug, I have a few tattoos myself.”

“Oh, I meant the X. For Straight Edge?”

I smacked myself on the forehead. “Right, fuck, of course. I knew that looked familiar.”

And he wasn’t preachy about it, either, which I appreciated. Personally I liked to smoke the occasional joint. But for Adam, a drug-free community, and the prospect of getting his ears absolutely pummelled by death metal and hardcore punk, was worth far more. He’d settled in Morganton, where he started Dead Joara, ‘an alternative coffee shop and progressive straight edge hangout’, and was within a reasonable drive of every music venue from Asheville to Charlotte.

For his part, he was enthralled by my gradual transformation from Millie the fake plastic mean girl into Millie, the hog-riding makeup artist who Gave A Fuck™ about people. He was especially impressed that I’d designed Angel and Maureen’s over-the-top makeup looks for the Atlanta production of RENT; he and a Larson-obsessed boyfriend had gone down to see it.

When we did finally reach his modest, slightly messy apartment in Morganton, the past had been effectively de-fanged, and I was feeling good about the night. He turned to me, hand on the ignition key, car still running and said,

“So, should we drive around and sober up some more? Go elsewhere? Or keep talking upstairs?”

“Option C. But first, kiss me.”

Adam nodded nonchalantly, then leaned over and pulled my face close to his. His big, warm, soft lips knew exactly how to seal with mine, and exactly how much flutter of tongue was appropriate for a first date makeout. Thank fuck. I couldn’t exactly take Jessa’s word for it that the man knew what he was doing.

“Mm, yes. That’s the stuff. I definitely want to see that dick tonight.”