“—that,” she said, and then, “It’s him, right?” as he walked over to us.

“Hey you.” He smiled.

“James,” I said, biting my lip.

He had his hair back and wore blue jeans and a white T-shirt with a red bomber jacket.

“Hi, there,” Marcy said.

“Ethan, this is Marcy—”

“Oh, hi!” he said. “So nice to meet you.”

“Yeah. You too,” she said, absolutely analyzing his every move. “Who are you supposed to be?”

“James Dean.” He ran his fingers through his hair, making me salivate.

Even Marcy could attest he looked hot as fuck.

“And you’re Cupid?” he asked.

“Not that it’s necessary.” She looked at me and then at him. “I’m going to go get a beer.” She turned around and walked away.

Neither of us really noticed.

“That is one fine costume,” I told him, meaning every word.

“Yeah?” He beamed.

“Oh, yes. I’m definitely stealing that jacket.”

He blew out a breath. “I’m running out of clothes!”

“A-ha. But what if that’s the plan?”

I took a step forward to kiss him hello, completely forgetting there were other people in the house. I stopped before I did so, though, leaning back as I looked around.

“I’m sorry,” I said awkwardly.

“Why?” he asked, puzzled.

“I forgot—I mean, we haven’t discussed—”

“—telling our friends we’re together? Are we together?” He tilted his head, curious.

“I, uh—” I mumbled, suddenly having quite forgotten how to speak. “I dunno?”

“You don’t know?”

“I just…we never talked about who can know and who can’t—”

“‘Who can know’?”

“I’m just saying,” I told him, starting to get frustrated. “I don’t know if you want people to know.”

“You think I don’t want people to know?” He gave me a half-smile that wasn’t exactly new, just different. “You think I mind?”

“As I said, we haven’t really discussed—”

“Do you mind?” he asked, looking at my lips as I spoke.

“What? No! I couldn’t give a fu—”

The next thing I knew, he had his hands on my hips and was kissing me, pulling me close.

“I take it you’re Ethan?” Noah asked.

Ethan immediately opened his eyes. He pulled away and turned around. “Y-yes. Hello.” He extended his hand, which Noah readily shook. “It’s great meeting you, Noah.”

“You too, man. I’m glad you’re here,” Noah said, then turned to me. “Listen, can I talk to you?”

“Sure.” I met Ethan’s gaze. “I’ll get us some beer.”

“Thanks, babe. I’ll just go check on the guys.”

I led the way to the kitchen and opened the fridge, then took out two bottles instead of pouring two cups from the keg.

“‘Babe,’ huh?” Noah said, smiling.

“What’s up, Noah?” I ignored him, opened my beer, and took a sip.