Adam had taken us to Tristan’s house as promised but only dropped us off because there seemed to be some trouble at the company he worked for, and he was called in.

Rap music welcomed us through the already-opened main door as we walked up their front yard with two presents in our hands. (Unfortunately, both of them were wrapped in the same gift paper with the cats wearing hats Conor and I used for our birthdays. It was the only one we had at home. And we couldn’t leave the presents unwrapped.) A banner over the walnut entrance announced ‘Tristan Colby’s blessed 17th year on earth’ in colorful letters that appeared more to fit a five-year-old.

“I bet he threw a fit over the colors,” I whispered to Conor, who shook his head, chuckling. As we approached the door, nobody seemed to take notice of us. But I knew Tristan. We couldn’t just head inside without him seeing us. Or better: seeing the presents.

And since Conor also has had his fair share of my cousin in his life, he rang the doorbell, completely ignoring that the door was still wide open. Sometimes it's as if we both thought the same thing.

I shivered as Tristan’s smirk greeted us a few seconds later. But he sure looked the part of a birthday boy. Everything he wore was white except for a gold necklace: white shoes, white pants, white shirt, white jacket. He almost looked like a rapper ordered from the shiftiest website one could think of.

He welcomed Conor and me by squiggling between us and throwing his arms exuberantly over our shoulders to walk us toward the living room like this. Since he was as tall as me but three times as wide, his arms weighed so heavy on my back that I had to walk slightly bent over.

“So the rumors are true, and the dream team is back together.? Who would have thought? Presents go on the dining table, by the way. Smile!”

He held his phone up and took a selfie with the both of us, not waiting till either of us consented.

“People are talking about us?”

“People, classmates, mutual friends, what does it matter?”

There was only one person that fit all three of those descriptions. So I guess this is more of a topic for Milo than he probably would admit.

“Aren’t you guys attending different high schools?” Conor asked as if he hadn't already answered that question himself.

“So? People talk! No gossip is sacred enough not to be spread around Middleton High.”

“Isn’t it Middletown High?” Conor asked again, knowing that he was right.

“But my version sells better on TikTok.”

Oh yeah. I forgot. Tristan has been announcing himself as an Influencer for two months now. It’s the longest he’s ever invested in an idea. But the most he has accomplished so far was 5000 followers he bought with his Mom’s credit card.

He shoved us into the living room, which was decorated surprisingly laboriously. The whole ceiling was full of hundreds of colored balloons with LED lights inside them. To our right was a dining table that was full of presents. To the left, usually their living room, now a spacious dance floor. The place was way more crowded than I would have expected. Quite a lot of people were already dancing to the music of a DJ who was standing in front of a life-sized LED screen showcasing pictures of Tristan's life. It was as ridiculous as it was impressive.

“Did you invite your whole school?”

“Of course I did. Oh, and I also have a friend I want to introduce you to, Ash,” he said. “She has the biggest tits you have ever seen, and I think you might like her.”

I glanced at Conor to see if he had heard. He shoved his lips into his mouth, trying not to laugh out loud.

“Should you be talking about her like that?” I asked Tristan.

“You’ll soon see that she talks a lot about her body too. And let me be honest, that’s kind of refreshing. Come on.” He turned back to me. “She should be over here somewhere.”

“Thanks, man. But I’m good.”

“No, no! I still owe you for that trip to Philly! And what better way to pay a friend back than to help him get laid?” He chuckled and looked at Conor, who put on a fake smile and nodded heavily.

“To be honest, I’m seeing someone right now, “ I said before thinking about it.

Tristan opened his mouth as if he had difficulty breathing and, of course, asked, “Who?” My eyes wandered to Conor, who followed the whole conversation meticulously.

“It’s still fresh, so we decided not to tell.”

“Come on, man. You don’t have to lie to me!” He searched for Conor's face. ”I know he’s not telling the truth because he brags about every girl he’s been with!”

“I’m not lying.”

“Well, if your new girlfriend isn’t here today," he replied as if he didn’t believe me at all, “she doesn’t have to find out if you have a little something. And this guy here won’t tell,” he pulled Conor closer to him so his face was very close to getting stuck in Tristan's armpits. “You wouldn’t, would you?” Before Conor could reply anything, Tristan continued, “Nah, he wouldn’t!”

I knew that arguing with him wasn’t worth my time since he would insist on me meeting her anyway, but I had to since Conor was right next to us.

“Tristan, could you please not—“

“Look, man,” he leaned closer and lowered his voice, and since this was suspicious as hell, so did Conor. “I need your help, Ash. Sari has over a hundred thousand followers, and I really would want to cooperate with her to… you know… gain some traction. But she seems not interested unless someone else, a bit more… fitting her… style, would also join in.”

Of course, this wasn’t a selfless act of thanks for me playing his wingman when we visited Philadelphia last year.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t have any followers.”

“That’s the idea!” He got so excited that he started talking with his hand. “She’s looking for someone new! Someone she can grow into her Instagram husband!”

“And you want me to do what exactly with her?” I asked, embarrassed that Conor could hear this.

“Just be a little nice, you know. Give her what she wants!”

“So she would do some videos? With you?” I glanced over, and he was biting his lip, listening to this conversation that I wish I had forgotten already.

“I mean, you would also get something out of it, wouldn’t you?”

“Uhm… that’s… a hard pass—”

“Don’t say no already. She’s your type, and a little birdie whispered to me that she has a thing for football jocks. Should make it easier to get into her pants!”

The ringing of the doorbell finally saved us.

“Promise me to wait till you see her before you make up your mind, Ash!”

And with that, he let go of us, put his smile back on, and forced the next people into his welcoming charade.

“So he is still the same pleasant human being he always was,” said Conor leaning close to me, so I could hear what he said despite the loud music. “But just so you know,” he threw his arm around my shoulder, just as Tristan did seconds ago, and leaned in even closer so that his mouth was right next to my ear. His breath tickled me when he whispered, “I won’t let you kiss anybody else ever again.”

The room started to get hot, and I couldn’t tell if it was because of the forty people dancing in there or because Conor just did something that left me wanting more of it.

He retreated his arm and started exploring the depths of Tristan’s house and now party location. After we placed the presents we brought on the dining table, I followed Conor through the dance floor toward the back of the house. A room on the left next to the kitchen, which usually is Tristan’s Mom's office, was now reused as a walk-in photo booth, which we kindly ignored because a red sign over the doorframe announced that all pictures taken here have to be linked to Tristan's social media accounts with some appreciative words about him.

We put our heads into a corridor next to it that led down the house and eventually to their bedrooms and the bathroom. But Conor shook his head as if this wasn’t interesting at all. He turned back at the dancing people and spotted Leo and Will sitting on a couch that was shoved toward the wall in the back behind the DJ booth. Both had a red plastic cup in their hands, and Leo raised his arm to toast our arrival.

We wiggled ourselves through the dancing crowd, and Will immediately jumped up to hug Conor and pulled him down next to him. Due to the lack of space, I planted my ass next to Leo, and I was a bit sad I couldn't sit beside Conor. Well, now I have another reason to apologize and tell them about us as soon as possible.

“We thought you’d never show up,” Leo said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, my brother took us and was late as always. And then his wife called, and he rushed to her.”

You could see in Leo’s face that he was searching for an explanation for what I just said.

“When did he get married?” He asked in a confused tone.

“I’m talking about the garage."

Leo made a face like he didn’t think my joke was amusing at all and lifted his body up as if he weighed four hundred pounds.

“Well, I’ll need another drink. You guys want something too?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “Anything is fine.”

“Let me join you,” Conor yelled over the music and jumped up, already heading toward the kitchen, leaving Will and me alone on the couch. For a moment, we stared at the dancing crowd in front of us until we glanced at each other, not knowing what we should talk about.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” he replied.

He smiled awkwardly as if he didn’t know what else to say or do. Same here, I thought, and I couldn’t deny that this was one of the only things we had in common. Usually, when it’s only the three of us, Leo is the guy I’ll chat with, while Will just listens in. But as soon as we’re alone, it’s as if we don’t even speak the same language. I decided to reciprocate his smile, at least.

“Do you feel better?” he asked out of the blue. I wanted to answer that I’m doing well. But I got the suspicion that he didn’t just say this as a part of some casual small talk.

“What are you talking about?”

“Monday? When you suddenly had to get out of the car to walk back home?”

“Oh, that.” I had already pushed that memory to the back of my head. “Yeah, I’m good now.”

Will kneaded his hands, clearly uncomfortable with this whole situation.

Could this be the right moment to talk to him about our past? We are alone now, after all, if you don’t count Tristian’s classmates partying. But they obviously didn’t care for us at all.

But we just kept sitting in silence. Well, not real silence, as some hip-hop tracks blasted into our ears.

“My meltdown must have been scary for you,” I finally had the courage to say.

“We all have bad days,” Will answered, his eyes searching for the others to return.

Shit. What am I doing now? I can’t just say ‘sorry’ without somehow getting to that topic. So…

“So, any of your classmates here as well?” I asked, as I couldn’t think of a better way to lead the conversation.

“There’s Milo,” Will replied and pointed to the left corner of the room that was closest to the entrance.

And even though I knew this moment was coming, my gut told me it wasn’t that long until Milo and I would somehow crash into each other.