Chapter One - Collin POV
Let’s just say I did not want to be here.
Malia was dragging me through a crush of sweaty bodies, and it made me intensely uncomfortable. The humid air hung thick with the scent of spilled beer and something vaguely chemical. Why had I agreed to this?
Malia yanked me through the crowd, greeting the bartender with a familiar nod. “Go ahead, honey,” the bartender said, recognizing her.
Malia vaulted herself onto the counter, her long brown hair brushing against sticky surfaces. I didn’t understand what she was doing.
“Mali…” I began, but she cut me off. “Just shut up, will you? I’m not doing anything dangerous. Just trust me.”
I wanted to argue, but I held my tongue. I trusted her, even though I had no idea what she was up to. I took a seat on a worn stool, waiting.
“What can I get for you?” a soft voice asked.
I looked up from nervously fidgeting with my hands. The bartender’s gaze was kind. “Just water, please.”
“You sure, honey? You look like you could use something stronger.”
“Nah, I don’t drink.”
“Alright then,” she said, handing me a bottle.
I took a shaky sip. Where was Malia, and why had she dragged me to this club?
*****
I could feel the cold metal of the bench pressing through my jeans as I waited for Malia. She was taking too long. I was already spiraling with anxiety, and being trapped in this club was making it worse. I was popular at school, but few people knew about the panic attacks that seized me.
I was about to head back inside when Malia appeared suddenly. I yelped and dropped my water bottle, watching it roll towards the curb. I turned to face her, heart racing.
“One of these days, I’m going to sock you in the face for doing that,” I warned, trying to sound tough but ending up sounding amused.
“And if you sock me,” she countered, “I’ll have you charged with domestic violence.”
I knew she was teasing. The playful smile gave it away.
After a moment of silence, she pulled something from behind her back.
“Happy Birthday,” she whispered quietly.
My jaw dropped. She remembered.
“How’d you know?” I asked, stunned.
“Your mom…” she began, then stopped.
I took the wrapped object from her hand, curious about its shape. I tore away the paper. Inside was a collage of photos—some I remembered taking, others I didn’t. But I could feel the emotion she’d put into it. Tears welled in my eyes.
“Thank you,” I whispered, and I meant it. Everyone always got me gift cards. This was something else. I felt truly touched that she’d made this for me.
“You’re the best friend I could ever ask for,” I said, pulling her into a tight hug. I held on for a long moment, savoring the feeling.
I pulled away, smiling. I didn’t know what I’d do without Malia. She’d pulled me back from the edge more than once.
“Do you need a ride?” I asked. “I need to be home before 6am practice.”
“I’d love a ride,” she answered, sliding into my car.
The drive home was pure chaos. Malia decided to find a Spanish radio station and sing along, turning into a laughing mess. I nearly swerved three times from laughing so hard. She made me happy.
I pulled into Malia’s driveway and turned to her, locking eyes with her. Her eyes were a striking shade of blue. A shiver ran through me. She broke my train of thought.
“You can tell me anything. You know that, right?” she said.
“Yeah. I know.”
“Okay. Goodnight, Collin. Love you,” she said, hopping out of the car.
“Love you. Thanks for the gift. It really means a lot.”
She just nodded, then turned and hurried inside, quietly closing the door behind her.
*****
I stepped into my room and closed the door softly. It was a mess—fairy lights drooping, Real Madrid posters curling, blankets and pillows strewn across the bed. I quickly changed into pajamas and snuggled under the covers.
Just as I was drifting off, my phone buzzed. I squinted at the notification.
“Derek Lincoln added you to the Groupchat: ‘Party Friday Night - everyone is invited’”
Vanessa, my girlfriend, was probably already in the chat.
I sighed and rolled over. Did I even want to go? It would be filled with Derek’s hippie friends.
For some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about Derek. I dismissed it as exhaustion and rolled over again. Then my brain started on him again. This time, my stomach fluttered, and I sat up straight. Why was Derek Lincoln consuming my thoughts?
“You’re not even gay,” I told myself, and rolled over, letting sleep finally claim me.