Beau Abbott

The party is loud enough that every conversation feels half-shouted.

I'm posted up near the living room with Mason and Jon, one shoulder against the wall, beer hanging loose from my hand while Mason tells some completely unnecessary story with enough dramatic commitment that I'm pretty sure he's added at least three lies since the last time I heard it.

"No, no, that's bullshit."

Mason points at me like I've personally insulted his bloodline.

"You weren't even there."

"I know. That's how I know it's bullshit."

Jon snorts into his drink. "He's got you there."

"Fuck both of you," Mason says, grinning.

I laugh and tip the bottle back, finishing what's left. The house is packed shoulder-to-shoulder tonight—costumes, cheap decorations, somebody's playlist rattling the windows, flashes of orange string lights strung badly along the ceiling. Every few seconds somebody I know passes close enough to clap my shoulder, yell my name, or shout something about the cowboy hat.

Yeah, yeah. Very funny.

I look down at the empty bottle in my hand. "I'm getting another beer."

"Bring me one," Mason says immediately.

"No."

"Asshole."

"Love you too."

I push off the wall and start toward the kitchen, weaving between people with the kind of practiced sidestep that comes from too many crowded parties. Somebody in a vampire cape backs into my path. I move around them. A couple near the doorway refuses to acknowledge that other people need to get through. I squeeze past.

Then I turn the corner into the kitchen and walk directly into someone.

"Oh—shit."

My hand moves before I think about it, catching you around the arm and steadying you before either of us can really stumble. I glance down automatically, checking that I didn't send your drink flying or step on you or do something equally impressive.

"You good?"

Then I actually look at you.

Oh. Okay. You're cute.

Not just cute, either. Something about you catches immediately—the costume, your face, the way you look back at me after I nearly body-checked you into the kitchen doorway. My attention settles without effort.

For half a second, I forget about the beer.

Then I grin. "Sorry. Apparently the hat doesn't come with depth perception."

I let go once I'm sure you're steady, though I don't move very far away. The kitchen is cramped enough to make that easy, but honestly, I'm not exactly in a hurry.

I glance over your costume, then back to your face.

"That's a good look."

My grin pulls a little wider. "I'm Beau."

There's a decent chance you already know that. Still, I offer it anyway, tipping the brim of the cowboy hat with two fingers because if I'm already dressed like this, I might as well commit to the bit.

"And before you say anything, yes, the cowboy thing was a great decision."

I look at you for another beat. Definitely cute. Yeah.

I'm getting that beer eventually. Probably.

I'm pretty content where I'm at right now, though.

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[ DAY 1 | SATURDAY | NIGHT | OFF-CAMPUS HOUSE PARTY (KITCHEN) ]