sprang on, and everyone shouted, “Surprise!”
And he was definitely surprised. His mouth made an O, and he scrubbed one hand over the bristles on his head, turning back and forth to gape at the people packing the house. Then everyone seemed to start talking at once: John-Henry clapping Cart on the shoulder, bending down to speak into his ear, friends surging forward to congratulate Cart, one of the younger officers, Moraes, shouting to ask what kind of beer Cart wanted. For a moment, Cart’s eyes found Theo’s in the crowd, and terror paralyzed Theo. Then, his face heating, Theo gave a tiny shrug.
Thank you, Cart mouthed.
After that, the party was perfect. People ate. People drank. At the beginning, Cart had to make the rounds, a beer in one hand as he thanked people for coming. Before too long, though, he had found his way to Theo’s side. Theo kept things casual: no kissing, no holding hands, nothing that might take this beyond what Cart wanted. They settled for a one-armed hug; Cart’s body was tight with tension, but when they separated, he just laughed and drank deeply from the Goose Island he was carrying. Pretty soon Auggie and Dylan were back—Auggie had a beer, which he immediately handed off to Dylan when John-Henry and Cora got near.
Groups formed and dissolved. Cart was there, and then he wasn’t. This could work, Theo thought, something bright unfurling in his chest. Baby steps like this. Friends in public. And then, one day, when Cart was ready, more than friends.
“You’re a good friend,” John-Henry said, slinging an arm around Theo. His breath smelled like tequila, and Theo was mildly surprised to see that John-Henry was well on his way to being trashed. “You’re a really good friend, you know that?”
Auggie and Dylan were standing in the corner. Dylan was frowning, shaking his head, and then he gestured once at the door with his beer. Auggie was trying to say something.
“We’ve got to find you a good guy,” John-Henry said. “You know what? We’ve got to find you a great guy.”
“Ok, honey,” Cora said, touching John-Henry’s arm. “Theo’s doing just fine, I think.”
“No, no, no. I’m serious.” John-Henry steadied himself. “I’m serious, Cora. Theo’s an awesome guy, and we—” He paused. “We’ve got to find him an awesome guy.”
“I think I’m all right for now,” Theo said.
“Not a cop this time, though.” John-Henry leaned against Cora, bussing her cheek. “Right, Cora? Remind him what a pain being married to a cop is.”
“Why don’t you let me take that?” Cora said.
John-Henry moved the beer out of her reach.
“I think we’re going to go,” Auggie said. Dylan stood a few feet behind him, draining a bottle of Goose Island. “I hope you guys have fun.”
In a quiet voice, Theo said, “Thanks for this. For the idea, I mean. You were right: it’s perfect.”
For a moment, Auggie was aglow, his whole face bright, a hint of a flush in his cheeks as he bit his lip. “Yeah,” he said. “Cool. Night, Theo. Night, Detective Somerset.”
“John-Henry, Auggie. Just John-Henry tonight.”
“Umm, right. Night, John-Henry. Night, Cora. Thanks for the party.”
A chorus of goodnights answered.
As Auggie turned to go, Cart emerged from the crowd. “Auggie.” The word sounded a little too thick. “Auggie, don’t go. Hold on.” Grabbing Auggie by the shoulder, Cart added, “Come on, it’s early.” It came out ’searly.
“He’s tired of hanging out with old people, Cart,” Theo said. “He and Dylan want to go have fun with their friends.”
“Or do something else,” Cart said, wiggling his eyebrows. “Right?”
“Oh my God,” Cora said. “Are you two dating? That’s adorable.”
“Yeah, well,” Auggie said, a blush darkening his light brown skin. His eyes cut to Dylan. “It’s, you know, we don’t like to put labels on things.”
“Way to go, guys,” John-Henry said, stretching past Theo to fist-bump first Dylan and then Auggie. “Way to fucking go.”
Dylan said, “Yeah, man. Fist bump. Sick. Surf’s up.”
More red blotched Auggie’s cheeks. John-Henry frowned and then tried to recover with a smile. Someone had put on music, and “I’m a Barbie Girl” chirped away in the background.
“So,” Cora said, “how long have you guys been dating?”
“Auggie told you,” Dylan said. “We don’t like to label things.”
“God.” Cart grinned over the bottle of Goose Island. “That’s fucking adorable, but Dylan, word of advice, if he’s dragging you to parties, you might as well own up to the fact that he’s your boyfriend.”
Dylan’s only reply was to take Auggie’s arm above the elbow; Auggie flinched but