Page 50 of Out on a Limb

“Some people might like wine.”

“This isn’t a book club.”

They reached the last apartment complex, a U-shaped, three-story building with bay windows on both ends. It was a layout familiar in these buildings. Walker could picture the exact layout of Nolan’s place.

The labels on the buzzers were scratched off or peeling, new names affixed over old, like a billboard. Maybe if Walker peeled long enough, he’d find a familiar name. Cameron buzzed the middle one.

“It’s Cameron and Walker,” Cameron said into the speaker.

Nothing, then a long buzz. They entered the black-and-white tiled lobby. Flashback after flashback of parties past filled Walker’s head. Cameron held open the inner door for his friend, and they trudged up to the third floor.

A lithe, energetic guy opened the door. His eyes immediately lit up at Cameron, then examined Walker like a science experiment.

“Henry, this is Walker.”

“It’s great to meet you!” Henry said. “Thanks for your help with trivia.”

Walker shook his hand, which caught Henry offguard for a moment. He showed him the wine, which caught him offguard for a longer moment.

“It’s one of my favorite bottles,” Walker said.

“I think my mom loves this one, too.”

Two strikes before he even got in the door.

Cameron and Walker squeezed inside, where the temperature spiked a good ten degrees. So much for a small gathering.

People clustered in groups throughout the long, narrow apartment. Yes, he knew it well. On the right, they would pass the living room and dining room complete with bay window before making a sharp left down the main, narrow hallway. Bedrooms one and two were on the right, with the lone bathroom on the left. Predictably, there was already a line. And then onto the final piece, the light at the end of the tunnel. The kitchen, with a small line of scratched-up counter space and fridge at the end. Then through the back door to the porch, which housed the smokers.

The kitchen seemed much smaller thanks to the bevy of people circling the keg and the bar. Cameron hugged the rest of his friends, stationed around some form of alcohol. He pointed his arm at Walker.

“Walker, this is Ethan, Greg, and Nolan.”

The three guys waved. The one in the middle—Greg, maybe—clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get you a drink.”

“I brought this.” Walker flushed red as he held up the bottle of wine.

“Thanks. I’ll take that.” Nolan plucked it from his hands and slid it onto the kitchen table where it rested next to a roll of paper towels.

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” Ethan said. He seemed eager to please and would probably be a helpful ally tonight.

“Should I be afraid?”

Nolan handed him a beer in a red Solo cup. Last month, Walker attended a craft beer festival. He doubted this was one of the selections.

“Your son sounds so adorable,” Ethan said. “I loved Legos as a kid.”

“Thanks.” Walker nodded. They didn’t have kids to ask about. Nor did they have jobs. That ruled out ninety-eight percent of his normal conversation topics. “So, what year are all of you?”

A sophomore, junior, and senior. He thought maybe he could have better luck connecting with the latter.

“Do you know what you’re doing next year?” He yelled to Greg over the crowd.

“I’m hoping to get into Teach for America.”

“I had a friend who did that. She hated it.” Walker bit his lip. Greg looked down at his beer. “I mean, that was years ago.”

“I hope so.”