Donovan stood in front of the bathroom mirror, running a hand through his hair and wondering if he was making a mistake. His body still felt heavy with jet lag, his mind caught in the strange limbo between Barcelona time and Pullman time. The thought of a night out—the noise, the crowd, the need to be social and present—felt overwhelming. But he had promised, and his friends were excited to see him.

  In the bedroom, Tyler was pulling on a blue button-down shirt that brought out his eyes, humming along to the music playing from his phone. He caught Donovan's reflection in the mirror and grinned.

  "Almost ready?" he asked, excitement evident in his voice.

  "Yeah, just give me a minute," Donovan replied, splashing cold water on his face in a desperate attempt to wake himself up.

  Back in the kitchen, he cracked open a Red Bull, grimacing at the artificial sweetness as he downed half the can in one go. The caffeine would help, he hoped—at least enough to get him through the next few hours.

  "Drinking that stuff will kill you," Tyler teased, coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around Donovan's waist.

  "Jet lag is going to kill me first," Donovan countered, finishing the rest of the can. "I just need a boost to make it through tonight."

  "Well, at least we don't have to drive," Tyler said, pressing a kiss to Donovan's neck before releasing him. "Ready to head out?"

  Donovan nodded, setting down the empty can. "Let's do this."

  They stepped out into the night, the summer air carrying a hint of autumn's approaching chill. The stars were bright over Pullman, the sky vast and clear in a way that Barcelona's never was. As they walked, Donovan found himself comparing everything to the city he'd left behind—the wider streets, the lower buildings, the quiet that settled over even the busiest parts of town come nightfall.

  But tonight, the quiet was broken by the sounds of celebration. Students were back, and the energy of the town had shifted practically overnight. Music spilled from open windows, groups of friends called out to each other across the street, and cars crawled along College Hill, looking for parking near the row of bars that served as weekend headquarters for the student population.

  As they approached The Zzu, the noise grew louder—a mix of music, laughter, and the general hum of dozens of conversations happening at once. Already, a small line had formed outside, students eager to kick off the year with a night of dancing and drinks.

  "Donovan! Tyler!"

  They turned to see a group of familiar faces—classmates from Donovan’s communications program, waving enthusiastically from further up the line.

  "Hey! Welcome back!" Tyler called, pulling Donovan over to greet them.

  There were hugs, back-slaps, and the requisite "How was your summer?" questions. Donovan found himself slipping into the easy rhythm of these social interactions, giving the abbreviated version of his Barcelona experience: "Amazing... beautiful city... learned so much... yeah, definitely worth it."

  It was strange how quickly he fell back into this role, as if the Donovan who had walked these streets arm-in-arm with Alejandro was someone else entirely.

  Finally, they made it inside The Zzu, the familiar smell of beer and sweat hitting Donovan as soon as they crossed the threshold. The bar hadn't changed a bit—still divey, still dark, still dominated by a sticky dance floor that had seen more spilled drinks than any mop could ever hope to clean.

  In the corner, beneath a string of multicolored lights that had been hung for Christmas three years ago and never taken down, sat Brad and Levi. Brad spotted them first, his face lighting up with a grin that always seemed a little too big for his face. He nudged Levi, who looked up from his phone, a similar smile spreading across his features.

  "DONOVAN!" Brad shouted, jumping up and practically knocking over his chair in his haste to get to them. He threw his arms around Donovan, squeezing him with the strength of genuine affection. "Man, we missed you!"

  "Let him breathe, Brad," Levi laughed, pulling Brad away to give Donovan a more measured, but no less heartfelt, hug. "Welcome back, stranger."

  "I'll grab us some drinks," Tyler said, gesturing toward the bar, which was three-deep with students waving cash and cards, trying to get the bartenders' attention.

  Donovan nodded, settling into the chair Brad had pulled out for him. The Red Bull was starting to kick in, or maybe it was just the infectious energy of his friends, but he felt more alert than he had all day.

  "So, Barcelona," Brad leaned in, eyes bright with curiosity. "Was it as amazing as your Instagram made it look? Because those photos were insane."

  "Even better," Donovan admitted. "Pictures don't do it justice. The architecture, the beaches, the food—all of it was incredible."

  "And the men?" Levi asked with a sly smile. "I hear Spanish men are... passionate."

  Donovan laughed, a little too quickly, a little too forcefully. "I wouldn't know. I was too busy studying and traveling."

  "Sure, sure," Brad winked. "But seriously, tell us more about your European fantasy life. Was it all siestas and sangria?"

  "It wasn't all vacation," Donovan laughed. "But enough about Barcelona. What did I miss here? Catch me up on all the Pullman gossip."

  Brad and Levi exchanged a look, the kind that suggested they had been waiting for this opportunity. For the next several minutes, they regaled Donovan with a detailed account of the summer's drama—who had broken up, who had gotten together, who had embarrassed themselves at various parties and gatherings.

  Levi started, "Oh, you missed so much. First of all, remember Jake? The guy from our psych class who always acted like he had life figured out? Well, turns out he was cheating on his boyfriend, and guess who caught him? His own twin brother, who then went nuclear at a house party. It was a scene."

  Brad nodded eagerly. "Oh, and get this—Sophie and Max finally got together. But before that happened, Max went on some kind of self-improvement kick and did one of those 'silent retreats' where he literally didn't talk for two weeks. When he came back, he acted all zen, but Sophie said she couldn't deal with the 'new' him, so he had to prove he was still the same old Max by chugging an entire bottle of wine at a bonfire."

  Levi cackled. "Which he then threw up all over her shoes. Somehow, though, they made it official a week later."

  Donovan shook his head, laughing. "I swear, I leave for a couple of months and everything turns into a soap opera."

  Brad smirked. "Oh, and the best part? Remember that bartender here at The Zzu that Levi had a crush on?"

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Levi groaned. "Oh God, don't."

  Brad continued mercilessly. "Well, Levi finally shot his shot. And he got rejected. But it gets better—because not only was the bartender straight, but he also mistook Levi's flirting as some kind of customer service survey and just handed him a free drink as a 'thank you for the feedback.'"

  Donovan doubled over laughing. "That's painful—but also iconic."

  Tyler returned with drinks just as Donovan was processing this twist in the tale. "What did I miss?" he asked, sliding into the seat next to Donovan and distributing the glasses.

  "Just catching Donovan up on the latest scandals," Levi explained, accepting his drink with a nod of thanks.

  "Oh, those were wild," Tyler agreed. "Though I still think the thing with the swim team and the campus police was crazier."

  “That what?” Donovan said pointedly.

  This launched a new round of stories, each seemingly more outlandish than the last. Donovan let the conversation wash over him, sipping his drink—some sugary concoction that barely masked the burn of cheap vodka—and feeling the strange disconnect between this familiar world and the one he'd left behind.

  After a while, when they had exhausted most of the summer's gossip and were several drinks in, Brad turned his attention back to Donovan, a mischievous glint in his eye.

  "Okay, but seriously," he said, leaning in conspiratorially. "You spent months in one of the most romantic cities in the world. You're telling me you didn't meet anyone special? Not even a kiss?"

  Donovan's heart skipped a beat, Alejandro's face flashing in his mind—his smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, the feel of his hand on Donovan's cheek.

  "No," Donovan said, too quickly, his voice tight. "Of course not. I'm with Tyler, obviously."

  Brad rolled his eyes. "Come on, Donovan. I'm not asking if you fell in love or anything. Just, you know, a kiss? A dance? A little Mediterranean flirtation?"

  Donovan glanced at Tyler, who was watching the exchange with an amused expression, seemingly unbothered by the line of questioning.

  "Tyler's not the jealous type, right, Tyler?" Brad prompted, nudging Tyler's arm.

  Tyler shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "I trust Donovan. But I know how persuasive Europeans can be with their… accents." He mimicked Levi's earlier tone, drawing laughs from the group.

  Donovan's palms were sweating now, his heart racing. He took a long sip of his drink, trying to buy time to formulate a response that wouldn't be a complete lie but wouldn't reveal the truth either.

  "Okay, fine," he finally said, setting down his glass with a deliberate thunk. "There was one guy, at a club. We were dancing, and he kissed me, but I pushed him away immediately. It wasn't a big deal."

  He risked a glance at Tyler and caught something—a flicker of suspicion, a momentary tightness around his eyes—but it was gone so quickly that Donovan wondered if he'd imagined it.

  "I knew it!" Brad crowed triumphantly. "No one goes to Barcelona without at least one steamy encounter. It's practically the law."

  "It wasn't steamy," Donovan protested. "It was literally nothing. Can we change the subject? I think I need more alcohol if you're going to keep interrogating me."

  "No need for more interrogation," Levi said, coming to his rescue. "Let's dance instead. They finally got the DJ booth set up, and I'm ready to show off the new moves I learned this summer."

  "You took dance classes?" Tyler asked, surprised.

  "No, I watched a lot of YouTube videos," Levi grinned. "Same thing, right?"

  Grateful for the shift in conversation, Donovan allowed himself to be pulled onto the dance floor. The DJ was playing a mix of current hits and nostalgic favorites, and soon the floor was packed with students moving to the beat, drinks held high to avoid spillage.

  Donovan let the music wash over him, the thump of the bass vibrating through his body. For a while, they danced as a group, laughing at Levi's attempts to recreate viral dance moves and cheering when Brad executed a surprisingly impressive spin. The caffeine from the Red Bull combined with the alcohol was creating a strange, almost euphoric energy in Donovan, and he found himself genuinely enjoying the moment.

  As the night wore on, the group gradually dispersed—Brad pulled away by a classmate who wanted to chat, Levi heading to the bar for another round. Donovan and Tyler found themselves dancing together, their bodies close in the packed space, moving in the familiar rhythm they'd perfected over years of such nights.

  It was just them—the heat of Tyler's body against his, the flash of colorful lights, the music drowning out everything else. Donovan closed his eyes, letting himself get lost in the sensation. The music pulsed around them, and in that moment, it felt like just the two of them, lost in their own world.

  Then Tyler leaned in, his lips brushing Donovan's ear to be heard over the music. "Why didn't you tell me about the kiss?" he asked, his tone light but his eyes serious. "Not that I care, of course."

  Reality crashed back in, the moment shattered. Donovan felt his heart rate spike, the room suddenly too hot, too crowded.

  "It was nothing," he insisted, trying to keep his voice steady. "Just some random guy, took me by surprise. Didn't seem worth mentioning."

  Tyler studied his face for a moment, then smiled, clearly deciding to let it go. "Okay, I'm just teasing. But hey, I do hope we can be honest with each other. About everything."

  The guilt was like a physical weight on Donovan's chest. "I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it, though not for the reason Tyler thought. "Yes, honesty. Always."

  They hugged there on the dance floor, and when Tyler kissed him, Donovan tried to lose himself in it, to feel only the present moment. But his mind kept drifting to other kisses, other lips, and the crushing weight of his deception felt like it was suffocating him.

  "I need a minute," he said, pulling away. "Bathroom. Be right back."

  But instead of heading to the bathroom, Donovan stumbled to an empty table in the corner, collapsing into a chair and pulling out his phone. Without thinking, he opened his messages with Alejandro.

  Missing you tonight, he typed, the alcohol making him bolder than he might have been otherwise. Wish you were here instead of all these strangers.

  To his surprise, Alejandro responded almost immediately, despite it being mid-morning in Barcelona.

  I miss you too. What are you up to so late? It must be, what, 2 AM there?

  Out with friends at a bar. Dance floor, drinks, the usual. What about you?

  Just finished a run along the beach. About to grab coffee. Thinking of you the whole time.

  Donovan smiled at the screen, a warm feeling spreading through his chest that had nothing to do with the alcohol.

  Wish I could join you for that coffee. The drinks here are terrible compared to Barcelona.

  He was about to type more when a hand landed on his shoulder, startling him. Brad stood there, grinning down at him.

  "Who's got you smiling at your phone like that?” catching Donovan off guard, but Brad continued. “Come on, they're playing our song!"

  Before Donovan could protest, Brad was pulling him back to the dance floor, where Tyler and Levi were already jumping to the beat of a song that had been the unofficial anthem of their freshman year. Donovan slipped his phone back into his pocket, promising himself he'd respond to Alejandro later.

  The rest of the night passed in a blur of dancing, drinks, and laughter. By the time The Zzu announced last call, Donovan was exhausted but surprisingly content. The tension from earlier had dissipated, replaced by the comfortable familiarity of being with his closest friends.

  As they walked home, the night air cool against their overheated skin, Tyler kept his arm around Donovan's shoulders, occasionally planting an affectionate kiss on his temple or cheek.

  "Did you have fun tonight?" Tyler asked, his words slightly slurred from the drinks.

  "I did," Donovan admitted, surprised to find it was true. Despite his initial reluctance, the night had been exactly what he needed—a reminder of the life he had here, the people who cared about him, the simple pleasures of a night out with friends.

  "I'm glad," Tyler said, giving him a squeeze. "It's good to have you back, Donovan. Really good." He punctuated this with an exaggerated kiss on Donovan's cheek that made both of them laugh.

  "I'm going to regret this tomorrow, though," Donovan groaned as their apartment building came into view. "I still need to buy all my textbooks for the semester."

  "That's a problem for future Donovan," Tyler declared solemnly. "Present Donovan should focus on not tripping up these stairs."

  They made it to their apartment, fumbling with the keys and shushing each other through fits of giggles. Inside, they didn't bother with lights, stumbling directly to the bedroom and collapsing onto the bed fully clothed.

  Donovan's last thought before sleep claimed him was that he should check his phone, respond to Alejandro's last message. But his body was heavy, his mind clouded with alcohol and exhaustion, and before he could reach for his pocket, he was asleep, Tyler's arm draped across his chest and the rhythm of the night's music still pulsing in his veins.