Page 39 of Summer Skin

THE OPALESCENT RAINBOWstreamers and a banner shouting FAREWELL! broadcast a sort of joyful enthusiasm for Chase”s send-off that sits in direct contrast with the ever-growing knot in Aven’s gut.

Between their nearest and dearest friends and the usual Friday night throng of people, Violet Moon is jam-packed for one last party before Chase is gone. Aven is trying to paste on a cheerful face, but it’s also weird as hell to pretend he’s happy about the end of their time here together. Tonight spells out very clearly that he only has hours left with Chase before Aven’s life becomes a series of depressing nights eating ice cream on the couch next to Andi.

Not that he’s being dramatic about it or anything.

“Buy you a drink?” Chase asks, reaching for his hand and leading Aven towards the bar.

“I drink here for free.”

“Buy me a drink?” he suggests, looking over his shoulder with a grin.

“I got you,” Andi tells him, from back behind the counter, holding up a finger to signal they’ll be right back. They zigzag between their co-workers with a sort of rabid determination that makes Aven wonder exactly what Andi has planned.

“So,” Chase says, elbows on the countertop, fiddling with a drink coaster.

“So,” Aven echoes, trying to sound upbeat, keeping the misery from his tone.

“Come here often?”

The corner of Aven’s mouth twitches.

“Do you prefer blow jobs or sex on the beach?”

Aven groans, shaking his head.

“What? I’m talking drinks.”

Chase’s entire face is lit with this cheesy, self-satisfied smirk and Aven can’t help smiling back. “I love you so much,” he says, too earnestly for the moment, but it’s all he can think of as he looks at his boyfriend.

Chase’s expression drops into something more serious. He starts to speak but then shakes his head, telling Aven, “One sec,” and pulling his phone out. “She’s here,” he announces.

“Boo,” someone behind him says in a bored tone.

They turn at the same time, it’s Brooklyn—looking like she’s stepped through time from high school into now, still with the all-black attire and dark eyeliner smudged across her eyes. She’s as cool as she ever was, and Aven finds he’s happy to see her.

Though not as happy as Chase, apparently, who barrels into her, lifting Brooklyn into a tight hug. “Hey, kiddo,” he says, tousling her hair as she ducks away. “How was the drive up from Portland?”

“Very illuminating.” Her eyes go bright. “I heard on a podcast that Washington State’s had 277 known serial killings.” She looks at both of them. “Were you aware?”

“That’s, hmm …” Chase says, “interesting, I guess.”

Brooklyn turns to Aven, looking him up and down, and he feels an itch of discomfort, like he’s being studied under a microscope. “Hello, Aven,” she says at last.

He remembers the last time they talked, the intense emotion he threw her way, and hopes they can put it behind them and go back to her mild tolerance of him dating her brother.

“Brooklyn,” he greets, “girl detective.”

Her hands fly to her hips. “I don’t know if you’re as oblivious as my brother about it, but I’m a woman now—a female detective.”

“Brooklyn,” he tries again, “female investigator.”

Her lips curl up in satisfaction.

“Alright!” It’s Andi, back with the drinks. “Tonight,” they say, a mischievous note in their tone, “Gen’s created a special for the occasion.” Andi sets the glasses down in front of them. “Two Chase Matthews cocktails, on the house,” they say with a snicker tacked on to the end.

The drink is a deep purple, like a bruise, and when Aven takes a whiff of it, his nose wrinkles in distaste. It smells incredibly foul.

“Oh, gross, Andi!” Chase complains after one swig. “This tastes like ass.”

Being a connoisseur of fine asses, Aven tries a small sip.

“Doesn’t taste like your ass, Chase,” he decides. “Your ass is delicious. This cocktail is false advertising.”

“Please,” Brooklyn says, face contorted in disgust, “don’t.”

“Brooklyn?” Andi’s squinting over at her like it’s been, well, years.

A small wave, and then, “Andi Greene. Hi.”

Andi’s lips curve into a smile. “You ever solve the mystery of who took Jake Miller?”

“Oh … um …” Brooklyn quickly shakes her head, cheeks heating, but Aven doesn’t see what there is to be embarrassed about. They’d all played along, and it was fun.

“Noooo,” Andi crows, slapping at the counter, “you didn’t! With Jake!?”

Brooklyn’s eyes go wide as the moon, her color deepening. And Aven finally gets it—Brooklyn hooked up with Jake.

“Brooklyn didn’t vanish him,” Chase tells them, scratching at his temple, looking a little confused over why Andi’s making such a fuss out of this.

“Yeah, I didn’t vanish him,” Brooklyn says, scowling, eyes going back and forth between Aven and Andi like she’s warning them to zip it, and meanwhile, Chase remains blissfully unaware. “Anyway,” she says, stretching the word out, “I’m here to say goodbye to my brother, not to solve any crimes.”

“Right.” Andi smirks. “Well, if I see anyone who looks like they might need to be brought to you for … questioning,” they waggle their eyebrows suggestively, “I’ll give you a shout.”

The amused look on Andi’s face suddenly drains, almost like they’ve seen a ghost.

“Oh, oh shit,” Andi hisses. “Emi Hayashi just walked into the bar.”

“Is she with a priest, a pastor, and a rabbi?”

“It”s not a joke, Aven!” Andi jerked their chin towards the bar’s entry door. “What is she doing here?” they moaned.

“I mean, maybe someone we know invited her?” Aven suggests reasonably.

“Maybe,” Chase says, “she’s come to ask you out.”

Brooklyn taps her chin, a contemplative look on her face. “Does anyone know what she’s been up to since high school?” Ever suspicious, like maybe Emi’s been recruited as one of those enigmatic U District dive bar spies. Finally, they’ll find out what horrors lie in Gen’s cocktails.

“She works at a beach resort.”

All three of them whip their heads in Andi’s direction.

“What? She came up as a suggested account to follow on Instagram, of course I took a peek. Or fifty.” Andi’s arms cross. “She”s the one who got away, and she’s not supposed to be in my bar.”

“How exactly did she get away?” Aven asks. “You never even tried.”

“She got away,” Andi replies, eyes narrowed, “by being too cool to talk to.”

“Oh god,” Chase groans, “remember that time you brought those peanut butter cookies Aven and I baked to school for Valentine”s and only found out before first period that she was allergic?”

“Shit.” Andi’s eyes flutter closed like the mortifying memory is almost too much to bear. “Piper and Emi attending the same grade school was the only thing that saved me from making a total ass out of myself.”

“Or she could have been happy you asked for a date, even with the cookies of doom,” Chase points out.

“Andi,” Aven says, “go talk to that girl, for fuck’s sake. What have you got to lose?”

“Dignity, my pride? A fantasy I still daydream about from time to time?”

“But what about the good things that could happen if you do say hello?”

Andi huffs out a breath.

“You might ask if she wants a drink,” Brooklyn suggests. “Get her order and see where it goes from there.”

“Just don’t serve her a Chase Matthews,” says Aven.

“Hey!”

“Sorry, babe, it’s not your fault, the drink should have been called Dirty Asshole instead. Where’s your order pad?” he asks Andi.

Andi pulls a mini-notebook out of their back pocket. Stepping out slowly from behind the bar, they look as nervous as a little kid lining up for the bus on the first day of school.

“You’ve got this,” Chase says.

“You’re one of the most charming people I know,” adds Aven. “She’s gonna be glad you came over.”

“You’re hotter than anyone else in this bar,” Brooklyn says, eying Andi as though she’s scouting a model.

“Really?” Andi asks, face relaxing into a smile.

Brooklyn shrugs. “I mean, flat-out, yeah.”

Andi tilts their head to one side. “Can I get a drink for you, Brook?”

“Oh god,” Chase complains, “please don’t hit on my little sister.”

“Come on, she called me hot, looking all like a … like a Matthews, with that long, dark hair and those deep, mysterious eyes. I mean, look at her—”

“Nope,” Chase insists.

“How am I supposed to—”

“No distractions from the mission!” Aven cuts in. “Go on, baby bird. Fly.”

Andi deflates, pouting. Their eyes cut across the jam-packed room. “I don’t even see her anymore.”

“Then go find her,” Aven says, giving Andi a nod of encouragement.

“Fine.” Inhaling a deep breath, Andi crosses their fingers. “Okay,” they say. “Here I go.”

The three of them watch until Andi disappears into the crowd and the dreampop playing over the speakers comes to an abrupt stop. From the stage, Gen taps the mic once, twice, then lifts it to her mouth. “Hello full capacity bar!” The room erupts with whoops and hollers like cramming bodies into a too-crowded space is a certain feat to be proud of.

“Tonight, we’re here to send off our friend, Chase Matthews, and, to celebrate, my drink special for the night is named in his honor!”

“Tastes like piss!” someone calls out.

“Nah, it’s asshole!”

That’s Justin, Aven recognizes his voice.

“We also have a fully stocked bar,” Gen politely reminds them. “There’s a lot of fun in store tonight,” she lowers her voice, like it’s a secret, “and a few good games to play. But first let’s get the goodbye boy up here to kick things off. Chase?”

“Guess that’s your cue?” Aven asks. Andi organized everything for tonight so he could spend more time with Chase, and Aven has no clue what”s on the schedule other than the song he”s singing himself

“Kiss me,” Chase tells him. Aven leans in and places a short, soft kiss on his mouth, and then Chase is off, pushing through the crowd towards the back of the bar.

Once he’s made his way on stage, Gen hands him a guitar and Chase takes a seat while she adjusts a mic at guitar level and another for vocals. Aven hasn’t seen Chase on a stage since high school and the thrill of anticipation zings through him as they wait.

Once Gen’s finished, Chase gives the audience a small wave and gets back a chorus of cheers and catcalls. “Hello, Seattle,” he says, leaning in towards the mic, the side of his mouth lifting. Someone in the audience lets out a scream like he’s just called her winning lottery numbers, and Chase laughs like he’s heard it before.

“Okay,” he strums the guitar, “I’ve never been much for long speeches, so I’ll just say thank you all for coming out tonight to send me off.”

More wild applause.

“And I’m gonna play you a song.”

The noise level rises.

Chase looks up, his eyes finding Aven’s. “It’s about a boy. Someone I fell in love with when I was young.” His face dimples, this boyishly charming smile that turns Aven’s insides to jelly. “It’s called ‘Indoor Skies’and it’s for Aven.”

He clears his throat and begins playing his song, a dreamy melody that hits in Aven’s chest. Then he starts to sing, a magical love spell about a boy who could make sunshine, and every hair on Aven’s body stands on end, watching him.

Under the bright lights of the stage, Chase isn’t the quiet kid he used to be in high school. All those years with Paranormal Romance made a performer out of him, and he sparkles, he shines, brighter than the whole damn night sky.

The audience stands captivated, straining forward for more. Chase Matthews is a rock star and Aven’s stomach warms with arousal watching him own the crowd, knowing those lips singing into the mic will soon be kissing his mouth. Knowing that’s his partner up there, his love.

Soon, Chase’s song reaches the chorus, and Aven sways on his stool at the bar, watching his boyfriend spin the room with a hypnotic love song. It strikes him again how gorgeous Chase is when he plays. Jaw-droppingly so, like an ocean at sunrise.

The love Aven has for him spreads out, a glow that covers everything.

A bliss he doesn’t want to let go.