Immediately there came a flush of wakefulness, a deep breath of clean air, a feeling of relief. “Sure thing.” You had to feel so stupid to let this happen, didn’t you? Over and over. He took his place in the car, leaning on the open window, the fresh night. Ben was unbuttoning his shirt, looking at Ronny. There was the teasing. “You’re drunk.”

“So? You like me drunk, don’t you?” The voice was slurred, distant.

“Not really.”

He snorted, shook his head. Turned onto a street in Carrboro, heavy trees overhead, and they parked in the shadow, streetlight trapped in the low-hanging branches. He faced Ronny. He was more drunk than Ronny had seen him, the heaviness of it in his expression, the laxness of his movements. A point of pain glimmered in all that sedation, and Ronny figured he knew where that came from. They sat there.

“What would you do right now if I said you could?” Ben asked, sounding as if his mouth were dry.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“Nope.” His heart was pounding. He had a certainty in him that there was something wrong with this moment. “I won’t do anything.”

Ben pulled him close, tried to take Ronny’s hand, to put it somewhere. When Ronny resisted, Ben watched him with a blankness, as if he were trying to grasp what was happening—and Ronny pulled away. “You’re too drunk, Ben. No.”

Ben looked at the roof of the car, stretched his arms out. He blinked heavily and shook his head back and forth, trying to become sober, eyes wide, hands in his hair tugging at the scalp. “Then shit. We’ll just sit here.”

“That’s fine. We can sit here.” Ronny was gritting his teeth, made himself relax. Was he being a fool? It wasn’t a choice, though, it was a reaction; his body had rebelled, refused to be handled that way. They watched each other. Ben fell asleep briefly. That was fine. It was calming to sit here, to watch him. Easier to ease away the anger, the confusion.

When Ben woke up, he sniffed and straightened, blinked, found a piece of gum, offered half of it to Ronny. He reached a hand for Ronny. He had sobered some, had become recognizable. He pulled Ronny to him, said, “Just touch me. That’s all.”

It was almost too much, the smooth skin, the tough terrain of the body, breath so close. He bent his head to Ben’s shoulder, heard his breathing change. He held still. Ben’s expression had frozen. They were together; there was the sense that they were both staring into the same deep; then Ben started the car and drove back to the dorm. They walked from the parking lot to the elevators without saying much. Inside, waiting for the elevator, Ben said, “I’ll see you, okay? Later.” He trotted to the stairs and disappeared.

Maybe it scared him a little, what he had done. For a week or so neither called the other. Then came the last day of class, the call from Ronny’s mother, the marriage in Nevada, and the boardinghouse.