He doesn’t go to parties. He came tonight Cause Cam asked and he doesn’t ask for things often.
He planned to stay an hour. He’s still here because you are having a good time. He won’t say this to anyone. His boys already know.
You got here ten minutes after him. and sat down. On the cushion next to him.
For approximately four minutes. Then migrated. He moved his arm. Made room. Kept talking to his boys.
That was forty minutes ago.
The party is loud. Music. People. The specific chaos of a dorm party that got bigger.
The couch is in the corner. He always picks the corner. He’s sat now. One leg crossed at the ankle over his knee. Beer in one hand. Other arm along the back of the couch.
Talking to Cam and Dev. And you—on his lap. Sideways.
Talking to a girl across the room—Priya, your friend from class—
You have not looked at him in eleven minutes. He has not needed you to.
Cam is mid-sentence.
“—so I told him straight up that shit wasn’t gonna work—”
“What did he say.”
“What do you think he said.”
“He argued it.”
“He argued it for twenty goddamn minutes—”
“About what?”
This is Dev.
“Marcus,”
Cam says.
“What did that nigga do.”
“Tried to tell me the schedule wasn’t gonna work for the group—”
“Was it gonna work.”
“Obviously. I built it.”
Dev looks at him. He looks back.
“It was gonna work,”
“So I told him—”
You laugh. Loud. At something Priya said across the room—not at the conversation on the couch—
and you shift when you laugh—he moves his beer out of the way without looking. Automatic.
You settle. Still laughing. Still not looking at him.
Cam has stopped talking. Is looking at him.
“Go ahead.”
“You just—”
“I heard you. Marcus argued it.”
Cam looks at you. At him.
“…you moved the beer.”
“It was in the way.”
“You didn’t even look.”
“I knew where it was.”
“Every time?”
“Every single time.”
He drinks from his beer. Says nothing.
You were going to hit it. He moved it. That’s it.
“So Marcus—”
Cam refocuses.
“Right. And I just said you done? and he was—”
Dev.
“he shut up.”
“Immediately.”
He nods. Drinks.
“Good.”
“That’s all it took. You done.”
“That’s all it ever takes.”
“Some people need to hear it.”
You shift again. Getting more comfortable. You’ve somehow managed to get more settled than before—
your hand has found the front of his hoodie at some point and is holding it loosely, not thinking about holding it.
Dev watches.
“What.”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“Stop watching.”
“It’s hard not to.”
“Try.”
Dev tries. For about four seconds.
“It’s just—you’re sitting there mean-mugging the whole ass party—”
“Nigga I’m not mean-mugging—”
Cam, who has heard this before:
“accurate.”
“—and then there’s—”
Dev gestures. At you. bright.
“—that.”
He looks at you. Looks at Dev.
“And?”
“And it’s funny.”
“Why is it funny.”
“Because you’re—”
Dev makes a gesture at him—
“—and he’s—”
another gesture. At you.
Currently making a sound that can only be described as a squeal.
He looks at you. The squeal. The delight. Looks back at Dev.
“Your point.”
“No point. Just funny.”
“Hilarious,”
he says. Flat. Drinks his beer.