“You’re adding too much salt,” Jess said flatly as Bastien shook a generous amount into the pot. Her arms were crossed, a familiar stance whenever she thought Bastien was about to make a culinary misstep.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bastien replied, calm as ever, adding another handful of spaghetti to the boiling water, the strands softening instantly in the roiling pot. “I got this.” He offered a nonchalant shrug, a smirk playing on his lips, clearly enjoying Jess’s playful exasperation.

I had just moved in two nights earlier, finally letting go of the month-to-month lease on the converted in-law unit I’d been crashing in. It had been a damp, perpetually chilly garage space that never truly felt like more than a stopgap, a temporary shelter before the next uncertain step. Each night since, there’d been a version of this; harmless, entertaining ribbing between Jess and Bastien. Their easy banter, the way they finished each other’s sentences or anticipated the other’s complaints, spoke of a deep-seated familiarity. It was easy to see they’d known each other for most of their lives, a bond forged through countless shared experiences. I imagined this must be what having siblings felt like, a sense of belonging and effortless connection. And surprisingly, despite the chaos of moving, it already felt like home.

The decision to move in with them had come quickly, but in hindsight, it made perfect sense. Since Bastien hadn’t renewed his lease on his own place, and Jess had enthusiastically floated the idea of all three of us splitting this one, it had all come together remarkably fast. Being the shortest on funds, my only income from my part-time job at the diner, I willingly took the convertible bed in the living room. It was a small sacrifice for the stability of a shared apartment, while Bastien and Jess each took a proper bedroom. Jess, always thinking of others, had even bought a set of stylish room dividers to give me a semblance of privacy in my corner of the living space. With the three of us splitting costs, it freed up a significant amount of money for us to invest in better recording gear, a vital step toward our shared musical aspirations. Apparently, it also freed up funds for a welcome party.

Jess insisted we host one. “We can’t keep you all to ourselves forever,” she’d said over my mild protests with a mischievous glint in her eyes. I never felt comfortable in crowds, preferring the quiet solitude of my own creative space, but I genuinely wanted to meet their other friends. If Jess and Bastien, two of the most authentic and kind people I’d ever met, vouched for them, they had to be decent people. Their endorsement alone was enough to quiet most of my social anxieties.

I finished prepping the salad, meticulously tearing the leafy greens and arranging the colorful vegetables, as Jess bustled around the kitchen, filling bowls with an array of crunchy chips and various party mixes, forming a vibrant spread of snacks.

“How many people are coming again?” I asked, trying to gauge the impending social onslaught.

“Just a few. You’ll be fine,” Bastien reassured me, his tone calm and unconcerned. He held out a spoonful of the simmering red sauce, its aroma filling the kitchen. “Try this.”

I tasted it, my eyebrows raising in pleasant surprise. “That’s really good. Extra sugar?” I guessed, a hint of something sweet lingering on my tongue.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Bastien said with a conspiratorial wink, leaning in slightly. “It’s a secret.”

“I think we’re good here,” he added, setting the spoon down with a satisfied sigh. “I’m gonna jump in the shower before everyone gets here.”

Jess followed suit, already heading towards the bathroom. “Same. You need anything, Cahn?” she called back, her voice already fading down the hall.

“Nah, I’ve got it. I’ll finish cleaning up,” I replied, the prospect of a few minutes of quiet before the storm a welcome reprieve.

As they disappeared down the hall, I did a quick sweep of the apartment, a final effort to make it presentable. I stacked up the scattered sheet music on the coffee table, set out a neat pile of napkins and a stack of iconic red cups, and tossed a few stray clothes into the hamper, trying to impose some order on the pre-party chaos.

Then came the doorbell.

Someone was early. My heart gave a little flutter of nerves.

I opened the door to find a tall, very handsome, athletic guy standing on our doorstep, holding a box of colorful cupcakes, a charmingly sweet offering that only made me feel even more self-conscious..

“You’re Cahn, right? I’m Acevedo, but everyone calls me Ace,” the guy said, extending a hand with a warm smile. “Nice to meet you.” His voice was deep and pleasant, instantly putting me at ease.

“Uh, yeah. I’m Cahn. Nice to meet you too,” I stammered a little, caught off guard by his easy charm. I shook Ace’s hand; he had a solid, confident grip. “Come on in. Are you a friend of Bastien or Jess?”

Ace grinned as he took off his shoes without prompting, stepping casually into the apartment. He clearly knew the rules already, a sign of his familiarity with the household. “Both, I guess. I’ve known them for years.” He paused, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks before he added, almost as an afterthought, “I’m Bastien’s boyfriend.”