When my phone buzzes, Benny actually screams.

“It’s not Jack,” I say, which elicits a groan from Benny.

RAE: You’re lucky I love you because my ass is on the bus on my way to your loving arms so you better be ready for your birthday surprise

“What is life right now?” Benny says. “You’re actually making me feel like I need to throw up.” He comes over and kneels beside me. “Do we need to have a ‘come to Oprah’ moment?” He closes his eyes and takes a deep, cleansing breath and motions with his hands as if he’s pushing out the bad toxins, like some sort of gay guru—a gayru.

“Maybe.”

He holds out his hands, and I take them as he prompts me to close my eyes and do as he does. He makes a wild grunting breath thing with hissing noises. It’s oddly calming.

Eyes still closed, I whisper, “Why am I such a mess?”

“I don’t know, but it’s tragic,” he says. “Luckily for you, I, too, am tragic.”

“I said mess, not tragic.”

“Same thing,” he says, all zenned out.

“Any advice?”

“Nope.”

“How is that lucky then?” I ask.

Benny shrugs. “Misery and company and all that.”

My phone buzzes again, and he paws at it, sliding it off my desk and into his hands. “Oh, it’s my wife!” He slides it open and puts Rae on speaker. “Hi, gorgeous!”

“I’m on this godforsaken campus. What do I do now?”

“Rude!” I shout.

“You’re right. Your campus is actually beautiful,” Rae says. “But you won’t be if I’m stuck out here for too long. Makeup is melting off my face.”

The camera tilts, and Harry’s face enters the frame. He waves awkwardly like the bubbeh he is. But his zayde-aesthetic is strong tonight, from the way he styled his hair, all slicked back like a member of the Rat Pack, to his ill-fitting Argyle sweater and khakis. I hope it’s okay with Chloe and Sofía that we’re bringing an extra body to their house.

“Oh, clown realness,” Benny says, and Rae gasps. “Ohmygod, I’m such a binch. Okay, listen, sweetie, I see where you’re at, so I’ll come down to get you because Chase is waiting for his maybe-straight crush boy. I think he might have a stroke if we ask one more thing of him.”

As Benny goes to leave, there’s a knock on the door. He stops and turns, like a victim in a horror movie about to face his demon. “What do I do?” he whisper-screams.

“Open it?” I shout, peeking my head out from our room and glancing down the hallway because it could be Jack.

And it is.

Except it’s not just Jack.

He’s with Rhett.

Benny immediately freezes up, and Rhett offers a head nod. Then, in a move worthy of a late-’90s sitcom, Benny slams the door in both of their faces.

“Ohmygod, what is happening?” he whines. “Did you know he was coming?”