Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sweet Sixteen
Marcus, it seems, has gone overboard throwing this birthday party for Ryder. There are so many people here that we have to park half a mile down the road from his house, and every room is packed to the brim by the time we arrive.
There’s a host of familiar faces—people I’ve known since childhood and some of Tiff’s group of friends and coworkers from the hospital—but there’s an equal amount of strangers, too.
I didn’t think a person could have so many acquaintances, but it is Marcus we’re talking about.
He’s so charismatic that it wouldn’t shock me to see he’d made friends and invited someone like Lizzo or Big Gretch.
He's clearly made too much food, there’s enough alcohol to sustain a small army, and I think he lost his mind decorating the house because it looks like Party City vomited all over the interior.
There are pictures of Ryder’s face on tablecloths, napkins, plates, and balloons, with so many streamers hanging from the ceiling that no one could question who we’re here to celebrate.
I can only imagine Ryder didn’t agree to any of it… Though I bet he secretly loves it, too.
Luke and I make our way through the throngs of people toward the kitchen to say hi to Marcus and Tiff, and they point us toward the backyard, where Ryder is hanging out with a dozen or so of his friends.
The moment Ryder spots me as I step outside to greet him, he breaks into a grin and runs over to give me an unusually solid hug for such a skinny kid.
“Uncle Ethan!” he exclaims happily, before looking back at his friends, beckoning them to come closer. “Hey guys, come meet my uncle Ethan!”
“Uncle?” Luke steps out of the house behind me, arching a brow with delighted confusion.
“Close enough,” I shrug. “Marcus and I are practically brothers. And I’ve known this little guy since the day he was born,” I tease affectionately, ruffling my hand through his hair.
He’s still pretty short at sixteen, barely hitting 5’5”.
I wonder if this is as tall as he’ll get or if there’s still another growth spurt in there.
Suddenly, I notice how preternaturally still Ryder has gone.
He's frozen like a statue, staring over my shoulder at Luke with eyes as big as saucers. I can’t help but smirk at the stunned look on the kid’s face as he takes in all 6’7” of the beautiful man beside me like he’s just died and been greeted by a literal angel at the pearly gates of heaven. Same, kid. Same.
“You’re Luke Shaw,” Ryder says, plainly awed. He’s pale as a ghost, but then he smiles wider than I’ve ever seen, and there are honest to god stars in his eyes. “You’re deadass Luke Shaw.”
Luke cocks his head to the side, and his lips twist up into that devilish little half-smile as he regards Ryder cautiously, unsure where this is going. “I am.”
“No. Fucking. Way.” Ryder beams wide. “Luke Shaw is at my birthday party.”
“You know who he is?” I frown, looking between the two of them with confusion. Luke meets my eye, and I can see he’s just as clueless about what’s happening here as I am.
Ryder turns to the boy standing next to him, his friends gathering around, and he excitedly grips him by the shoulders. “Yo, he’s the one I was telling you about!”
“I am?” Luke asks at the same time that I balk, “He is?”
The boy Ryder is holding onto eyes Luke up and down cautiously, and if the unmistakable look of jealousy on his face indicates anything, I’d have to bet this is the secret boyfriend Marcus was telling me about.
I wonder how many people here know they’re dating, or if they’re keeping it hidden from everyone else, too…
“I follow you on Instagram!” Ryder says proudly, his whole face glowing with reverence. “You’re legendary!”
“He is?” I ask again at the same time that Luke chokes out a disbelieving, “I am?”
Ryder whips out his phone and pulls up Instagram, flipping to Luke’s profile in less than three taps before showing the ever-growing swarm of teenagers (seriously, where did they all come from?) the pictures of my boyfriend's face to prove he’s not crazy—that this is the same man he has apparently idolized, at least online, for some time.
Once it’s confirmed, Luke is launched into a new celebrity status as everyone fawns over him, like they’re in the presence of an internet icon.
Luke throws on an awed but charming smile, slipping into a well-practiced persona of a star interacting with fans, though the blush on his cheeks tells me he was not expecting this kind of recognition here, of all places.
I wonder if this happened a lot to him back home in New York City or if it was rare for him there, too?
Was he famous enough for people to regularly recognize him on the streets? Or only in certain circumstances?
For the next few minutes, Luke is bombarded with questions only teenagers would ever dare to ask, which he either answers gracefully or skirts around with impressive tact, and then he poses with anyone brave enough to take a picture with him.
He’s as patient as a saint, even when the interactions last longer than they probably should, but I can tell he’s genuinely happy for the attention, thriving in his element.
My presence, as briefly as it was welcomed, has become all but irrelevant in the face of Luke’s shine.
I don’t mind. I was never one for the spotlight anyway, and witnessing Luke in this way is fascinating, like seeing the man behind the curtain, learning what makes him tick.
The way his whole face lights up with unmistakable joy is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Eventually, some of the adults partying inside catch on to the fact that something weird is happening with Luke and all these kids in the backyard, and they come out to speculate on it.
At one point, Marcus materializes at my side, and he hands me a beer as he stares at the scene before him with mild confusion.
When I tell him what’s happening, he laughs, shaking his head.
“That would be Tiff’s fault,” he says. “She introduced him to Luke’s Instagram a few weeks ago after he came out to us and told us about his future dreams. Ryder was a little obsessed once she’d told him he was an actor from New York who grew up here, too.”
“I think he’s got himself a little crush.” I chuckle.
“Oh, yeah.” Marcus laughs. “Big time.”
“I doubt Luke minds, though. He’s probably been missing all the adoration since he’s been cooped up here.”
Marcus nods thoughtfully. “What’s the deal with him anyway?” he asks after a moment. “Is he here for good, or is he going back?”
My heart jolts with the unexpected question, the sudden reminder that Luke might yet leave me making my gut clench, but I try to keep the panic from my face as I shrug, hoping it comes off as unbothered.
“Unclear,” I say. “He’s very tight-lipped about his plans, but I know he wants to go back.”
“Hm.” Marcus frowns, then, after a moment, he adds, “You know, I always wondered why you weren’t more interested in moving somewhere like that.”
“What? Why?” I scoff, genuinely taken aback.
“I don’t know.” Marcus shrugs, glancing sidelong at me.
He gives me a curious up-and-down look like he’s staring at something foreign and not quite sure what to make of it.
“You were always into that artsy, culture shit. Opera, ballet, musical theater… I kinda thought you’d want to end up somewhere you can go see more of it.
It’s not like the country has a lot to offer in that area. ”
I gape at Marcus blankly, my brain whirling with the realization that he may have paid more attention to my niche interests than I’d ever given him credit for.
It wasn’t like I actively hid any of it from him, but we never outright discussed these things, either.
And I know he wasn’t into any of it, so I didn’t see the point in bringing it up…
He smirks at me, almost like he can tell that’s what I’m thinking, and he takes a swig of his beer. “The man was too stunned to speak,” he teases.
I frown and shake my head. “I’m not cut out for city life,” I say, sipping my beer as well.
“We both know that’s bullshit.” Marcus snorts, and I freeze.
“You were always the adventurer. The one who constantly talked about going out to see the world when we were younger. You hated it here more than anyone else, going on about your plans to move away every chance you got. Hell. You got accepted to U of M and couldn’t pack your bags fast enough to live in Ann Arbor.
Your dream was always to leave until your dad died, and then everything changed. ”
His words hit like an axe hammered deep into my chest, and I clench my jaw tightly, looking away.
The truth of it cuts with precision, and even though I know he doesn’t mean to be harsh, it still feels like an attack with how my body tenses.
The problem is that I know he’s not wrong, even though I’ve never taken the time to examine the correlation myself.
I tend to forget that I lived in downtown Ann Arbor for three months before my dad passed.
I walked those city streets almost daily and didn’t hate it.
In fact, I really liked it. But my anxiety about going back after he died was so intense that it morphed into a fear of the city itself, and eventually, I dropped out of school because I couldn’t take it.
Afterward, every time I found myself in any crowded place, I felt triggered, almost like walls were closing around me, and I couldn’t breathe.
My date with Luke in Detroit was the first time I’d felt a sense of that old excitement about being in a city, and none of the gut-wrenching fear that had plagued me for years. But that was likely just a fluke. Not something I can count on happening twice.