Page 146 of Silver Sweet

“And you wonder why you aren’t allowed in my bedroom,” Charlie says, very irritably. More than usual.

“No, look, it’s fine.” I situate all his precious books in their upright positions. I try not to regret texting Phoenix while I’m in a house meeting with my brothers. The timing,fine.Could I have chosen better? Maybe, but I will overcome the hurdles I create.

I will conquer.

“Tom isn’t allowed in here?” Ben asks in confusion. He’s on the floor eating a banana and icing a bluish bruise on his ribs. Hockey injury, but at least his team is dominating the playoffs and on track to be in the Frozen Four. Even if Ben acts like it’s not the Stanley Cup of college tournaments, I looked it up and it’s a big fucking deal.

“Neither am I,” Eliot chimes in from the windowsill bench seating. “A true mistake on Charlie’s part. Tom and I would provide much-needed levity to this grim space.”

“Undeniably,” I nod a lot, checking my phone. No response from Phoenix.

Great,great.

I try to focus and not on Beckett, who’s making a scrunched face at me and my phone.

This is a rare event where Charlie is letting me and Eliot hang out for more than two seconds in his bedroom. We’ve been banned from stepping foot in here since weaccidentally(truly an accident) left a half-eaten turkey sandwich on his bookshelf. Which he found molding and stinking weeks later.

In my defense, every wall is abookshelf. Where else was I supposed to put my sandwich? Even his bed is framed between shelves. Maybe he shouldn’t have renovated his room to resemble the Oxford library. The arched wood beams overhead are cool in their extravagance, though.

I would totally crash here for a night. If he’d let me.

Smacking my phone in my palm (not at all nervous), I say, “Dude, you should be asking us in here every day, all day, to spread merriment.”

“And cheer,” Eliot adds.

“And love, because we love you,” I finish.

Charlie is unamused. He’s seated at the foot of his bed beside Beckett. Bowing forward, he tells me, “And why would I want a wrecking ball anywhere near me?”

Ouch.Why did that one hurt? I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Let’s stay on topic,” Beckett says with the raise of his hands. “Tom, did you hear that last part?”

I nod. “Yeah, the rager?—”

“Theparty,” Beckett corrects fast. “You’re not throwing arager.”

Ben smiles up at me. “I appreciate the attempt.”

I assure him, “No, this is going to be as good as, if not better, than our typical parties.”

“One hundred percent,” Eliot chimes in. “Far better.”

“Far grander,” I add.

“Nothing will compare.”

Beckett has yet to drop his hands from the air. “Simple. Small. You two need to consult your friend list and disinvite anyone who will trash the apartment.”

I mean…that’s a lot of the friend list. Eliot and I share a subtle look to talk later about the invitees. “Some might still show. The party is tomorrow,” I tell Beckett.

“Give their names to security,” Beckett says. “They won’t let them on the elevator.”

Ben has a hundred-yard stare, banana peel limp in his hand. “Um…about the date,” he says. “Can we…is it possible not to do it tomorrow?”

I’m not understanding the issue. “You have other birthday plans, Ben Pirrip?” I ask since we’re throwing him abirthdayparty. He’s turning twenty tomorrow.

“No, none. It’s just…if, um.” His eyes redden. He’s not blinking and too choked to speak. He looks to Beckett.