Page 1

Liam

Liam was only halfway through his first legal drink when his friends abandoned him.

If he were the kind of person with a backbone and a shred of self-respect, he might have left the bar after that. Better yet, he might have tracked Ben and Nathan down and confronted them, unleashing a decade’s worth of grievances with a drink to their faces. He might have left the bar on his own, caught the L to the last commuter train of the night, and left them behind for good.

But he was the person that he was, so instead, he shouldered his way through the crowd and planted his back against the first open patch of wall he could find.

It was Liam’s twenty-first birthday, and he wanted nothing more than to go home.

The exposed brick was sticky in a way that made his skin cling where it touched, but it was better than being surrounded by a sea of sweaty bodies on all sides. The deafening pulse of music he couldn’t escape was bad enough, vibrating through the floor, up his legs, into his bones. He considered retreating to the back patio for a break in the noise, but a quick assessment of the distance between points A and B, and the massive wall of people in between, held him in place. He felt briefly, absurdly, like a castaway on an abandoned island, stranded in place until help came.

The sharp prickling sensation in his palms was the first tell-tale sign of impending panic. Liam pulled in a deep breath, but the air was thick with booze and sweat and it did nothing to ground him. The drink in his hand was not the comfort he’d hoped it would be, either: an overpour of vodka, with the barest essence of cranberry, that burned going down. Still, he forced himself to drink like he knew what he was doing, and he did feel a bit warmer with every sip. That was probably a good sign. He wouldn’t know. It was something he might have asked Ben and Nathan about, if they had bothered staying in his line of sight.

He only got in a few more sips before a stray elbow knocked the icy shock of liquid down his front. No apology, no offer to replace the spilled drink, no acknowledgement at all from the cluster of sequin shirts that pushed past him as if he didn’t exist. For a moment, he was too stunned to react, just frozen in place with his white shirt—because, sure, of course he had worn white tonight—plastered to his stomach.

His buzz wasn’t strong enough to dull the indignity of walking to the bathroom covered in cranberry juice and vodka, so he kept his eyes down as he fought through the crowd and hoped his apparent invisibility would hold up just a little longer .

The bathroom walls were more sharpie and faded stickers than paint, and the room was lit by a singular bare bulb. The urinal looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since its installation, and the smell supported that theory. One of the three stalls was missing a door. It was becoming more apparent by the minute that Liam was not compatible with bar life.

He stood in front of the mirror, studying the stain on his shirt through the cracks and grime. Happy birthday, he thought.

The drink covered too much of his shirt for him to accomplish much by leaning over the sink. Mostly, this just resulted in sending rivulets of water dripping into the waistband of his jeans. Liam shut off the water. The only thing that could make this night even more pathetic would be crying in the bathroom about it, so he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Okay. Okay . This was salvageable. With a sideways glance at the door, he reached behind him to pull the shirt over his head.

When the wet material slipped past his eyes, Liam let out an embarrassing yelp. A man had come out of the half-shut stall and was now standing behind him in his reflection, looking equally startled. Whether by Liam’s presence or his reaction, he wasn’t sure.

“Sorry,” Liam apologized, despite the fact that he had done nothing other than take up space in a public restroom .

The man, who looked to be about Liam’s age, said nothing. He quickly recovered and stepped up beside him at the trough-style sink.

“I thought I was alone,” Liam said, because he was suddenly hyper aware of his semi-nudity and felt the need to explain. “I just need to clean this. I... spilled my drink.”

More silence.

Okay, then.

Liam flipped on the faucet and began to scrub cold water into the stain.

When he glanced up at the mirror, he saw, now at closer range, that the man next to him was crying. Or, at least, he had been recently.

Liam knew he was staring but couldn’t make himself look away before he was caught. Reddened eyes caught his own for half a second, then they both looked down again. Liam worked faster, desperate to extricate himself from an awkward encounter of his own making. Beside him, the stranger was splashing cold water on his face, no doubt trying to reduce the swelling around his eyes.

When the water shut off, the space between them felt too quiet, despite the muffled bass coming through the door. Liam stole another glance at him in the mirror.

“Are you okay?” he decided to ask.

The man, who was now gripping the edge of the sink, stared dead-eyed into the basin. He didn’t so much as glance in Liam’s direction .

Liam looked away and wrung out his shirt. It was only slightly pink-tinted now, which was probably the best he was going to get. Maybe the dark lighting would work in his favor, and no one would notice. Resigned, he stepped away from the sink and over to the air dryer. He pushed the large silver button and... nothing.

You’ve got to be joking.

He pushed it again.

Not even a sputtering attempt at a startup.

He punched the button one last time, though that one was mostly an act of aggression rather than an earnest attempt.

“It’s broken.”

Liam swiveled around slowly, startled to hear the stranger speak. He was looking at Liam now, too—directly at him, instead of through their shared reflection. His dark eyes were still swollen despite his efforts.

“You know, I was just starting to gather that,” Liam said, feigning the casual coolness of someone who wasn’t standing half-naked in a bar bathroom.

If he was someone who enjoyed showing off his body at the best of times, maybe this wouldn’t be half as awful, but here he was. And now his options were down to hiding in this cesspool of a bathroom until his shirt dried on its own, or stepping out into the club as a one-man wet t-shirt contest. Nathan and Ben were sure to have a field day with that, whenever they deigned to find him again.

That was the deciding factor .

Liam squeezed his shirt one last time, then glanced at the stall with the missing door. He didn’t allow himself to linger on the thought of the bacteria that clung to every square inch of this room and draped his shirt over the wall.

For the second time tonight, Liam found himself on the verge of freefall. It was harder to ignore his exposed state when he had nothing to do with his hands, so he settled for crossing his arms and sinking into a crouch by the wall. If he was going to be here a while, he might as well get comfortable. He focused on breathing and wondered if it would be worth dipping into his savings to call a cab back to the hotel. To which Nathan and Ben had the only keys.

“Are you okay?” the stranger asked. Liam looked up to find him still standing there, witness to his downward spiral. There was a begrudging quality to the question, as if he’d had to force himself to ask. Liam tried for a smile, but it felt more pathetic to pretend.

“This wasn’t exactly the twenty-first birthday I’d imagined.”

Though, perhaps if he had been more realistic about his expectations, it should have been. Really, Liam was partially at fault for the position he found himself in now. He should have leaned into his own suspicions when his friends offered to take him to the city for his birthday. He should have realized that this weekend was always about finding an excuse to get drunk and run up a hotel bill on Nathan’s dad’s credit card, and not a sudden interest in celebrating Liam .

“Where are your friends?” The man turned to face him, leaning back against the sink.

And wasn’t that the million-dollar question? He opened his mouth to say something witty and biting, but what came out was, “I’m starting to think I don’t have any.” Then, trying to save face, “Do you want to talk about yours?”

“My what?”

“Your reason for hiding out in the bathroom?”

Liam regretted it immediately, when the small opening that had been pried open between them slammed shut. The man turned back to the sink.

“Sorry,” Liam said again. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

The other man was quiet for a few more seconds, then shook his head. “Just a bad night.”

Liam curled his fingers around his own upper arms, slippery with humid sweat. He didn’t know what kind of comfort he could give a complete stranger, nor how much weight it would hold coming from someone crouched on a bathroom floor, but at least he could offer solidarity.

“I’m Liam,” he said lamely.

The stranger looked back at him, and for a moment it looked like he might actually respond. But before he could speak, the bathroom door burst open, and the stranger flinched like he’d been struck.

Two drunk guys stumbled in, one of whom was still holding his open container of beer as he approached the urinal. Neither of them paid Liam or his quiet companion any attention, but it seemed to take a moment for the tension to dissipate. He shook his head, then tossed a fleeting glance at Liam.

“I need to go,” he said.

Before Liam could so much as utter a goodbye, the door swung open, letting in a swell of bass and liquor, and he was gone.

“Cassidy, where have you been?” Ben was drunk and sweaty when he threw an arm over Liam’s shoulder, yanking him close. “Wait, why are you wet?”

Not so long ago, the casual act of affection might have done something for Liam. Now, he shoved out of Ben’s hold, knocking into a wall of dancing bodies behind him. He ignored the shouts of protest and held out his hand.

“I need the key card,” he said.

“What? Why?”

Nathan, pulling his face out of the crook of a girl’s neck, finally looked at him. “Why are you wet?” he asked. Liam felt like screaming.

“Give me the key,” he repeated.

“We’ve only been out for an hour and you want to leave?” Nate said.

Would you have even fucking noticed? Liam wanted to shout back.

“I have a headache,” he lied .

“Don’t be a buzzkill,” Nate said. “We brought you all the way out here for your birthday, and you’re going to bail on us?”

The lights, the bass, the sweat, the damp cloth clinging to him—Liam was crawling out of his skin and ready to snap. “I haven’t seen you since we got here,” he yelled back, struggling to be heard over the music. “Just let me leave and you guys can hang without me, which was clearly the plan all along.”

Ben seemed to sober a bit at the accusation, almost looking genuinely hurt. “Come on. You know that’s not true. It’s easy to lose people in here. I lost Nate for a minute, too. It’s fine. We’re all good now.”

“Whatever.” Nathan put a hand up, digging into his pocket with the other. He flipped open his wallet and shoved the hotel key at Liam. “If he wants to be a little bitch about it, let him go.”

Liam reached for the key, but Nathan dropped it before he made contact, letting it clatter to the floor. He turned his attention back to the girl without sparing Liam a second glance. Ben looked away, pretending to be distracted by something across the room. Liam swallowed back his anger and hurt and dropped to a crouch. The card was sticky when he finally pulled it off the floor.

“Hey,” Ben called after him as Liam turned to leave. “Happy birthday. ”

Liam forced himself to stay awake long enough to shower when he got back to the hotel. His stained shirt, mostly dry after the long walk, lay in a heap on the bathroom floor. His mood had already improved after rinsing off the grime of the bar bathroom and other people’s sweat, but the exhaustion lingered. It didn’t take long after his head hit the pillow for him to drift off.

When he woke, it was to the harsh overhead light and the ungraceful entrance of his friends. Ben was drinking something wrapped in a brown paper bag and stumbling into walls. A quick glance at the alarm clock told Liam it was a little after one in the morning. He had only gotten an hour of sleep.

“Rise and shine.” Nate pointed at him. “Night’s not over yet.”

Liam blinked at them, pulling the comforter closer to his chin. “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on,” Ben echoed, “is we got you a birthday present.”

Something light and flat landed on Liam’s stomach. He peered down over the blanket and saw a hotel key card. “I don’t get it,” he said.

“It’s a surprise.”

“It’s a key to a room I’m already in, but thanks,” Liam countered.

“Check the room number,” Nate said, stealing the bottle from Ben’s hand to take a swig.

Liam did as instructed, flipping the key around to see the number “336” scrawled at the top of the card. “That’s not our room number,” he observed.

“Oh, he’s quick.”

“I was sleeping.”

“And now,” Ben said, bouncing onto the bed and jostling him, “you’re awake.”

Liam—begrudgingly—sat up and lifted the key card. “What is this? You got me a different room?”

“We wanted to make it up to you,” Ben said. “We were assholes for losing you earlier, so take this as our apology.”

“You do understand how exiling me to a room by myself might not send the right message for that?”

“Who said you’d be by yourself?” Nathan said, smiling. “The room isn’t the surprise. It’s what’s waiting for you there.” He sounded very satisfied with himself, which had Liam tensing. It wouldn’t be the first time Liam was the butt of one of Nathan’s great ideas, and he was really not in the mood.

“Just tell me what it is.”

“That’s not how surprises work,” Ben chided. “Up you go.” He followed up by bodily shoving Liam until he rolled off the bed in a tangle of blankets.

“What is wrong with you?” Liam stumbled to his feet. “I just want to sleep.”

“There are beds in the other room,” Ben said.

Nate’s shit-eating grin widened as he added, “Though sleeping is optional. ”

Liam bent over and picked up the card from where it had fallen. He studied it, then looked up at Nate. “If I go look, will you let it drop?”

Nate’s answering gesture of surrender was no answer at all, but it was the best he was going to get. Liam huffed out a breath and shoved past him, toward the door.

“This better be good,” he said.

In the hallway, he had the fleeting thought that he should go sleep on the couch in the lobby and avoid Ben, Nathan, and their dubious surprises until morning. But it was his own curiosity that had him taking the elevator down to the third floor instead.

Possibilities flitted through his mind, none of them good, each of them worse than the one before. His leading theory was that they had found this hotel key card on the floor somewhere and were setting Liam up to walk in on some poor, unsuspecting tourist couple. A quick breaking-and-entering charge for the sake of a quick laugh. He wouldn’t put it past them. Liam had a decade of experience paying the price of Ben and Nathan’s attempts at humor.

By the time he reached the room, his palms were damp. He wiped them on his pants and hesitated outside the door. He entertained the lobby option one last time before mustering the courage to tap the key against the digital lock.

He held his breath as the light turned green.

Liam clutched the door handle, turning it downward before it had a chance to lock up again. He stayed like that, frozen and squeezing the metal as it grew warm under his palm, listening for signs of life. When it was only silence, he pushed into the room.

It was dark, save for a sliver of bronze light from a streetlamp shining through a slit in the curtains. He stepped tentatively into the corridor that separated him from the rest of the room, letting the door click shut behind him. He bit back the urge to call “hello?” into the empty room, like the first person to die in a horror movie, and instead felt along the wall for a light switch. He found one at the mouth of the hall, just as it opened to the room.

When he flipped on the light, he couldn’t process what he saw right away. He stumbled back a step, convinced that he had wandered into a strange dream. Because of all the things Liam expected to find waiting for him in the dark, the stranger from the bar bathroom had not been one of them.