i'm holding on to things
we said we would c h a n g e . . .

〰️〰️〰️

My dip made it to Dean's apartment in one piece.

We arrived at his door thirty minutes after the start time that was indicated on the Facebook event. There were already a handful of people inside, drinks in hands, and music rumbling between the walls from which I could already tell was a playlist curated by Dean himself. His eccentric taste wasn't one to mistake with anyone else's.

The door swung open to reveal the host himself wearing his work scrubs, a toy stethoscope around his neck, and a bottle of IPA in his hands. His off-kilter grin and squinted eyes gave away that he likely started drinking way before anyone else.

Now, because he tended to work the overnight shift at one of the largest children's hospitals in the country (let alone the city of Philadelphia itself), that meant he didn't get too many free nights. Being Gus' best friend, you'd think they'd see each other a lot more often than they do. Their schedules never seemed to coincide, so whenever Dean managed to have an evening away from caring for the youth of today, he went a little buckwild.

"Happy Halloween, fuckers!"

Gus stepped forward first to hug his friend since his arms were wide open and waiting for an embrace. Laughing, he said, "Really? A nurse, again? How long are you gonna use your work uniform as a sad excuse for a costume?"

"It's easy and comfy. Sue me," Dean sneered, his hand slapping Gus' back before releasing him.

Gus just shook his head with a knowing smile, drifting further into the apartment so he could put down all of the alcohol he was carrying.

Dean's attention went to Collin and Jax as they all swapped handshakes, and then it ended up on me. He looked surprised to see me holding a giant tray of orange-colored dip garnished with chocolate chips and holiday sprinkles, his thick brows knit together and jaw agape. "Bayla, you didn't have to make a dessert! You could've just bought one of those mini cupcake cartons at the store. That would've been fine."

The thought hadn't even crossed my mind. Instead of strangling Dean over how much aggravation I'd had all day because of this damn dip, I swiftly recovered by forcing a pained smile.

"Oh, you know me. Always an overachiever," I joked to hide the fact that I wanted to punch myself in the face.

"It looks great, though!" He said, squishing me in a sideways hug so he wouldn't crush the tray. "You can put it on the table with all the other food. There's no dessert yet so I'm sure everyone'll love it."

"They better. I went through hell for this." I glowered down at the platter in my hands, which made him chuckle, but that also could've been due to how much beer he'd already consumed.

Since my guys I'd come with had all vanished, I sauntered over to said table where the food was set up. There was a small open space towards the end, so I pushed aside a bowl half-full of chips and made room for my tray. As soon I took it out of the bag and unraveled the plastic wrap, I heard someone question what it was. The words "pumpkin spice" were barely out of my mouth before hands were dipping anything they could in it.

I crept away, grateful that I took a photo of my creation earlier since it was ruined now, and made it into the cramped kitchen. The tiny teal room, accented with fake succulents, open shelving, and stylish cookbooks that were likely never opened and only served for decoration, was packed with people in costume.

Behind a couple disguised as pirates, I spotted Gus with a bottle of honey-flavored whiskey in one hand and a shot glass in the other. My bottle of honey whiskey that I bought for the party.

As he poured his own shot, followed by pouring one for Jax who stood beside him, I slid through the horde of bodies until I reached them. They clinked their glasses together right in my face and downed their shots, my futile attempt to have them to wait for me going to shit.

"Oh, hey Bay," Gus chirped when he noticed my presence.

My eyes narrowed in response. "Pour me two shots."

He didn't ask questions, but I didn't miss the way his eyebrows arched like he were shocked to hear that demand. Grabbing two more plastic shot glasses out from the bag of goodies we brought, he set them on the counter and filled them for me.

"Gonna take one to Collin since we didn't wait for you?" Gus asked humorously, turning around to carefully hand the glasses to me.

Rather than answering him, I threw back one of the shots with ease. The liquor was smooth, just enough of a candied hint from the honey essence to make the sting in your throat more of a welcoming, warm tingle.

He and Jax watched me, stunned as I polished off the second shot and put the glasses down with a smile.

"Thanks," I breathed, smacking my lips in satisfaction. "Where is Collin, anyway?"

"I'm pretty sure Stella got a hold of him now, so he'll probably be stuck for a while," Jax snickered, pinching his eyes shut.

"That girl's got a bigger libido than anyone I've ever met," I muttered sort of sarcastically, shaking my head.

Gus grunted, the rolling of his eyes highlighting his irritation. "Yeah, and it means fucking nothing. I don't know how many times I've told Dean to tell her to lay off. She just doesn't get it."

"The girl's a dime. I don't think she's used to guys turning her down, so she doesn't know what to do with herself," I guessed with a shrug. "And like, okay... I'm not here to judge anyone on how they live their life. Do what makes you happy; I don't give a shit unless it's directly affecting me. But there has to be a point where you just have to give it a rest, no? You have to realize when someone's not into you."

"I know it's your best friend's sister and I know he feels bad, but he's just gotta tell her straight up, like, I'm not interested in anyone. It's literally a 'it's not you, it's me' situation," Jax added, directing it at Gus who nodded solemnly.

"I agree, and I feel bad for him, too. It's hard. Even though there is so much shit that's more accepting these days, there's still people who don't understand certain things. Take a girl who's very in touch with her sexuality trying to pursue someone who's not..." Gus trailed off, his palms facing upward as he gestured a scale to weigh the situation. "It's tough."

I stepped between the two of them and filled up three more shot glasses. One for each of us, this time. The subject we were on wasn't uncomfortable, but it was heavy, and it didn't always sit well with others. And right now, at a Halloween party, it drove me to drinking.

It was a lazy day during the summer after we graduated high school, when Collin and I were lounging in the hammock in my backyard, and he told me he might be asexual.

Never having heard the term too often due to our fantastic and ancient health program in school, I wasn't sure what to think. He said he didn't want any emphasis on the label, but it was an idea, or a way to feel a small sense of identity. Something to cling onto as a reason for why he felt like he was weird, thinking something must be wrong with himself for not liking sex, wondering why he wasn't like the other guys.

It was surprising and a little confusing, of course. I told him I loved him and that he'd be my best friend no matter what.

Fast forward a few years. Once he abandoned community college to pursue photography, he saw how much I loved living in Philly and knew it'd be the best place for him, too. Like I said before, people from our hometown either moved way out or got sucked in – we refused to be the latter. A place stuck in time that turned a blind eye to anything that was different or unique was no place for Collin Pemberton, nor myself.

It didn't take long for him to find his perfect inner circle. The city was so much more diverse than anything we'd known before, full of fascinating people that led the kind of lives we thought were impossible back in a suburb like Clearloft. There were new friends that opened his eyes to a whole world he never knew was out there. A world he ultimately fit right into.

Collin discovered he wasn't so weird after all, starting with his two roommates.

Jax had Tourette syndrome. His full name was Jacinto, born into a boisterous Brazilian family that migrated to Philadelphia to launch a specialty coffee shop. The nickname Jax was made up by one of his three sisters that couldn't pronounce his name right as a child. It stuck when he was diagnosed and couldn't even get past the first syllable of his full name without suffering from a tic. The disorder was severe during his teen years, which led to bullying, which led to homeschooling, which led to him discovering his love of photography.

While he had progressed tremendously and had learned how to control it now that he was twenty-four, there was no telling when something might trigger him. We knew that it made Jax who he was, and if he had to screech at the top of his lungs because a dog barked or rapidly blink his eyes at times, then so be it. And he'd be damned if he let it come between him and his camera.

Seb used to be an alcoholic. It started when he was fifteen and ended at twenty-two, after he woke up in a hospital and realized he couldn't remember the last month of his life. It wasn't the first time he ended up there as a result of his drinking problem, but he wanted it to be the last. Now three years later, he was still happily sober, in a healthy relationship with a girl who changed his life by introducing him to veganism. He kept up with his AA meetings and spent most of his time creating his murals that were praised by locals and tourists alike.

The girl that owned one of Collin's favorite thrift stores had a glass eye from a hiking incident ages ago. The guy that developed Collin's film claimed he'd dated every man in Manhattan, so he moved to Philly for more opportunities – he had yet to find the right one. Collin, Jax, and Seb's landlord was four foot tall with the thickest Irish accent around and an even thicker unibrow.

All of this and more made a boy who felt ashamed, and confused, and abnormal feel somewhat normal. It gave him a sense of belonging, and I guess that was another reason why I'd never felt inclined to leave Philly.

We accepted Collin and his asexuality. We accepted Jax and his tics. We accepted Seb and his past of drinking more booze in seven years than most people did in their entire lives. But just because we accepted it didn't mean everyone else did.

Girls would still line up for blocks just to catch a glimpse of Collin; the beautiful boy made from shades of gold. They'd question why he was never seen with a girl and concoct their own ridiculous theories without taking a second to really know him. Maybe he's gay. He probably had a bad relationship before. He must be a virgin. He's insecure. There must be something wrong down there.

It was why Collin kept it to himself. It was why he didn't want to emphasize a label on who he was. It was why his costume as Hugh Hefner was so ironic that the average person didn't get how funny it truly was.

So on that note, I interrupted Gus and Jax by shoving a shot glass into each of their hands. They cut the discussion short and waited for my cue this time.

"Cheers. I love Halloween," I said flatly. We raised our glasses, lightly knocking them together before knocking our heads back as the syrupy liquor slid down our throats.

〰️〰️〰️

An hour or so later and I found myself alone with what was left of my pumpkin spice dip. Most of the food had been eaten, shown by all of the scattered crumbs and empty bowls on the table. The pretzels and graham crackers were gone, so I improvised by dunking tortilla chips into the remnants of my dessert. It wasn't the best combination, but the salty-sweet thing sort of played well and made it edible.

I could hear Jax's voice over everyone else that was mingling around the apartment, charming two girls who couldn't resist his silly personality and pale gaze that snatched your attention. His laugh even carried over whatever country song was blaring through the speakers, which had plenty of people groaning. Dean just raised a middle finger in the air and bounced along to it with an arm slung around Gus.

Collin had escaped from Stella the last I heard, and instead was engulfed in a conversation with someone about photography. Though I probably could've jumped in and pretended to know what they were talking about, I preferred to eat as much of my dip as possible since it was a given that I was never making it again.

It seemed I wasn't the only one that had that idea. A guy covered in black and white came right up next to me, silently reached over to grab a tortilla chip, and scooped up the hearty last remains of the dip.

I stared, open-mouthed, at the tray that was now bare while he munched in my ear.

"Hm..." he hummed in thought, followed by a final consensus. "Interesting."

As if his obnoxious chewing wasn't enough, the vague comment about my work which he rudely finished just irked my nerves. Twirling to face him in frustration, it dawned on me that his spotted, monochromatic attire was meant to resemble a Dalmatian.

Still, it didn't wipe away my scowl.

"Did you not see me standing here eating that?" I asked bitterly

His blackened nose twitched, eyebrows raising high to wrinkle his forehead. "No, I did. That's why I came over," he explained, acting as if there was nothing wrong.

"So you thought it'd be okay to devour the rest of it without even asking me first?"

"Sorry," he uttered in a mocking tone, "was it yours?"

I knew he was just being a smart-ass. He thought I was being dramatic, but I couldn't wait to rub it in his face that yes, it was mine. It was one of those rare, smug moments you have in life where it feels so good to prove someone wrong. And after the day I had, I was bound to snap on somebody.

Dalmatian dude had it coming.

With a cocky smirk, I crossed my arms and spat, "Yeah, it was. I made it."

He blinked, then clamped his mouth shut. I anticipated his response with a tilt of my head, watching him fidget under my gaze even though he was taller than me. Not by much, considering I was two inches shy of six-foot without heels, but my thigh high boots added enough height to make me feel invincible.

"Damn, now I'm really sorry. I didn't know," he frowned a little.

"Clearly."

"If it's any consolation, it was pretty good. The tortilla chips were kind of a weird touch, but I guess if you're into that whole salty-sweet movement, then it probably works for you."

"Well then I'm glad it got your approval," I dismissed him with an eye-roll.

I figured that would be enough to hint the end of our exchange. If not, my turning away to scan over the party should've done it too.

Evidently, I was wrong. Dalmatian dude, who wasn't familiar to me in the slightest with or without his costume makeup on, was a talker. I knew of a few people that were always at Dean's whenever he'd throw a party, but there were only so many faces and names I could remember, or care about for that matter.

"So how do you know Dean?" He asked then, his mouth full of whatever he scrounged up from the table of scraps.

I scoffed, "You know, I have a Dalmatian at home that provides me with plenty of headaches. I don't need one everywhere I go."

"Really?" He sounded intrigued, and I nodded in defense of my dog. "Well, I have one of those house cats that looks like a mini leopard."

"I'm sure you do," I chuckled in disbelief, shaking my head.

"No, seriously." He paused to take his phone out from the pocket of his black jeans, swiped a few times on the screen, and then displayed a photo for me. A cat curled up in a mountain of blankets that, sure enough, looked like a miniature leopard. "She's a Bengal cat. Her name's Ginger."

Now it was my turn to be dumbstruck.

"Wow. I thought you were kidding," I mumbled.

"Most people do."

"Alright, well this..." I stopped so I could grab my own phone from my jacket pocket and find a picture of my pup, "is Ziggy."

He smiled at the name. "Marley or Stardust?"

"Little bit of both," I said. The list of mine and Gus' music idols was never-ending – David Bowie and Bob Marley were both somewhere on there. Ziggy was a name we instantly agreed on, so without further arguing, that was what we settled with for our first child.

"Well if you're so obviously a dog person, what made you be a leopard?" He quipped, his eyes taking a moment to study my outfit.

There didn't seem to be anything indecent about it, but it was a tad too long before he met my eyes again. I pulled my leather jacket snug around myself and folded my arms across my chest as a result.

Having a boyfriend for about six and a half years meant any flirtatious behavior from others wasn't welcome, but it happened often. People that didn't know us would never guess that Gus and I were together. We'd be on our own ends of the spectrum at parties or events, knowing without a doubt that we were who the other would go home to. We were so comfortable and trusting that when out of the blue, a kiss on the cheek or fingers intertwining would be a revelation to outsiders.

It didn't take much to know when a guy was checking me out, whether he was being smooth or blatant about his come-on. Numerous nights at bars scattered throughout the city were a persistent example of that. Most times, I could protect myself through sarcastic turndowns and a glimmering band around my right ring finger that meant nothing more but an anniversary gift. Other times, Gus stepped in, and I was never too sure if that was better or worse.

"It's because she can be a bit catty sometimes."

The voice that belonged to my other half was at my side just when I thought of him.

Dalmatian dude laughed. Gus did too as he rested a hand on my waist and outstretched the other behind me for something on the table. He was chomping down on tortilla chips when I looked up at him, a wide, closed-mouth grin on his face.

"You're so funny," I said, not amused by his intervened answer.

"I'm guessing you're the safari guide to her leopard?" Dalmatian dude observed, pointing at Gus.

"Yup. Gotta make sure she's not preying on any weak game."

The snide remark had the spotted guy smiling crookedly. "Ouch. I've gotta hand it to you, I really didn't think there was a boyfriend in the picture," he sighed and shrugged a shoulder. I appreciated his honesty, if anything.

"Yeah, six and a half years, believe it or not," I glossed over the achievement of having a long-term relationship in the city in our twenties with a light laugh. It was all we'd known, and I guess to some people that was astonishing.

"Holy shit," he gaped at the two of us. "That's insane. Good for you guys."

"It's nothing," Gus said with a flippant wave of his free hand. "Sometimes you find the right person and it just works."

I beamed at Gus when those words came out, not expecting such a softhearted response from the guy who was my world – a world that could be shining one second and then crumbling the next.

"That's sweet," I purred, hoping only he could hear me.

His eyes searched mine until he was looking back at