“Close the door, you’re letting all the heat out,” Gene’s mom Ma calls, appearing in the hall with a stack of cloth napkins and silverware. “There you are, Cham! I’m so glad you could celebrate with us tonight.”

I smile even bigger. “Wouldn’t miss it!”

“Come on in!”

Inside, the house is warm, and all the noises are safe noises of people doing stuff you take for granted: stirring a pot on the stove, carrying silverware from the drawer to the table, following the hockey game that’s playing on the TV in the living room.

“Hi, Cham,” Gene’s other mom says as she adds pasta to the boiling water on the stove. “Isn’t it incredible news?”

“Yeah,” I say, taking in the long wooden table with its twelve empty chairs and two unlit candles. It’s so hot in here I think I’m going to be cooked alive. Or maybe steamed, if my sweat doesn’t evaporate fast enough.

“Well, the rest of the family will be here any minute. Why don’t you guys take care of drinks?” she says.

Gene steers my shoulders to the cabinet. “On it.”

As he and I carry glasses to the table, I take in the decorations strung around the room for this momentous occasion: streamers from the ceiling with Gene’s new college colors, a pinny on the door, and a large cake on the side table waiting for everyone to face-stuff its Congratulations!

“So the surprise is celebrating you getting into college? With your family?” I whisper when we’re alone in the room. I’m trying not to sound like an incredulous asshole, but c’mon. I think my assholery is justified.

Gene wraps his arm around my waist. “I promise that’s not all. We get to chill after, and I can have a party Friday night as long as everyone turns in their keys. And”—he pauses dramatically—“Mom and Ma said you can sleep over. Like in my room.”

I blink at him, waiting for him to continue. When he doesn’t, I say, “Oh, great!” and plant a kiss on his cheek. The doorbell rings, giving me a chance to regain composure.

“Be right back,” he says, jogging to the door with his long legs and big feet that you’d never expect to be good at running, but humans do experience miracles regardless of their anatomies. I guess a slumber party with a boy is an okay surprise? I duck away toward the stairs.

“Hey, Josh,” I say as I pass his younger brother, who’s in the middle of a video game at the foot of the stairs. He doesn’t say anything because he only likes to say something when he’s interrupting Gene and me in the middle of our playtime. Don’t let them fool you: Kids suck just like the rest of us.

“Let me get this straight,” Abigail says when I’ve gotten her on the phone. “He didn’t ask you to prom?”

“Nope.”

“And the best night of your life was actually just the night Gene got into college and subjected you to dinner with his whole family?”