The suburban home loomed over us, flaunting its elegant Mediterranean Revival. The light stucco walls shimmered slightly in the fading sunset, brick accents framing the large, inviting windows that poured out warm amber light onto the perfectly manicured lawn, casting shadows where it hit the palm trees. I could have drawn you a nearly-perfect floor plan of its entirety from the hundreds, if not thousands, of hours I'd spent there; yet, tonight it felt foreign to me.

My best friend in the whole world stood on the front porch discoing his heart out between two classical white columns. His earbud wires swayed while his hips gyrated to whatever 70s tape reels were spinning on his cassette player. He descended the terra-cotta tiles, Sony Walkman in hand. As you can imagine, he'd had a major influence on my music taste, much to Allie's dismay. That's not to imply the three of us enjoyed any less than 95% of the same music, but the 5% is what always gets noticed. People have gone to war over smaller differences, after all.

If left alone, disparities are eternally insignificant, but at some point you have to choose which ones you notice and which ones you don't. When it comes to music, we war. When it comes to Friday night plans, we war. When it comes to traffic safety violations, we war. When it comes to some other things, though…well, we don't war we ignore. Pretend they're not there. Pray them away. Release them into the void of irrelevance.

Can you feel the tension?

I'm sure you can. I'm sure you can feel its labored crawl up the back of your spine, the plodding atop your heart, and fingers wrapping around the front of your neck…

I felt it too back then, but I couldn't name it. Now I could. I could look back and tell you all about the longing looks I pretended weren't there, the intrusive thoughts I prayed away, the softer pitch the little smirks the lingered touch the shared cups the hidden screens the vague nonanswers the subtle white lies the crescendoing detestation the nauseatingly deniable yet plausibly heartfelt explanations that I released into the void of irrelevance.

I could, but I won't. Not yet, at least. It's better you discover it as we go.

When Robbie descended the steps, I was surprised to see that he wasn't wearing a 2000s band T-shirt and instead had on this country club comfort-yellow polo and ripped jeans. The short-sleeves fit snugly around his biceps and maybe it's just because he usually wears big T-shirts, but it seemed like he had beefed up a lot. It appeared an attempt had been made to tame his tangling, messy mop of dark hair. Allie immediately rolled down the window and screamed in the way girls sometimes scream when they're really excited. "Robiii!!! You look so gooood!"

He cheesed and replied, "What? This?" Then he did a spin, giving us a 360 view, and said, "Just a little something I thrifted."

Allie yelled, "You went thrifting without me?" in a tone that was equal parts hurt and impressed.

Still cheesing, Robbie replied, "I guess that just means we'll all have to go again!" He did a little dance as he finally reached the car, then slid in through the backseat window head-first. "Mars! My guy!" He dapped me up over my shoulder and as soon as his feet cleared the window, Allie floored it.

"Ah! Don't kill me, yet! The night is still young," Robbie nervously laughed.

Allie flashed a menacing smile that only I could see as she sped through the quiet neighborhood. Once Robbie settled we showed him Lily B whom he immediately approved of.

"Whoah," he deduced at first, then later elaborated, "Her lyrics are sharp. Her vocals—evocative. She has insane control effortlessly shifting between chest and falsetto like that! And the subtle country twang! Allie, you've been holding out on me. Now I'm gonna have to apologize for every mean comment I've ever made about country music. Both the ones I said to your face and the ones I said to Mars behind your back."

Allie swatted back at Robbie, missing wide and swerving onto the highway shoulder a bit. Then she dead-armed me when I started laughing. It got an "Ow!" out of me, but did nothing to soothe my cackling.

After we listened to a couple more of Lily B's songs, I asked Robbie, "Hey, are we still good for Thursday game night?"

Robbie replied, "Oh, you know it, dawg."

(I recognize "dog" and "dawg" are the exact same phonetically, so I couldn't possibly know which version he intended, but if you knew Robbie you'd bet the farm on "dawg" every time).

Allie inserted herself into the conversation. "It's Mars' last week in town, and you guys are seriously wanting to waste a night playing Dungeons & Dragons?" Robbie and I yelled at her concurrently, each trying to explain in our own words how Dungeons & Dragons was not a waste of time and how we were on the verge of completing a four-year campaign that went all the way from level one to twenty which is virtually unheard of and how we wish she'd show some respect for this massive achievement. Allie brushed it all aside and said, "God, I forget how big of nerds you two are. Fine, whatever, do whatever it is you boys are going to do, but I am going to Mindy Bates's grad party on Thursday with or without you."

That changes things. I chimed in, "Wait, Mindy Bates as in cheerleader Mindy?"

Robbie gripped my shoulder with a surprising amount of hand-strength. "Dude, seriously? Don't you dare cave."

"I'm not going to cave, I'm just curious…" I looked at Allie expectantly.

Allie, deadpan, replied, "Yup. Cheerleader Mindy and the whole cheer squad will be there. Also, it's a pool party."

Robbie's grip loosened a bit. "A pool party?" He asked; rhetorically, of course.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

I picked his hand up off my shoulder and dropped it back in his lap. "Who's caving now?" I chuckled.

"Not even close. Wouldn't reschedule our final game night for the world…but, I mean, we've been finishing around nine. If we get done early enough, we can always swing by…"

I nodded my head in rapt agreement. "Yes. Yes, that could totally work." I looked to Allie and she answered our unspoken questions with a sigh.

"Fine. I'll see what I can do. I'm not wasting my clout with Mindy Bates to get a couple of 'maybes' invited though. She's also attending State in the fall, so I need to use it sparingly..." she trailed off thoughtfully." You can sneak in when you get there. I'll just let you in through the side gate. They'll all be too drunk by then to remember who was and wasn't invited anyways."

"Done and done! That works perfect!" I grinned ear-to-ear.

"Allie, you heaven-sent angel! What did we ever do to deserve you?!" Robbie declared, reaching toward her face and pinching her right cheek.

"Oh, hell no. This isn't some freebie." She slapped his hand away. "You both will owe me big time and I always collect."

Robbie and I grew quiet. We began murmuring to one another, our heads turned from Allie.

"She does always collect," Robbie whispered.

"That she does. Is it still worth it?" I asked.

"I mean, it's probably the most exclusive-non-exclusive party of the summer. At Mindy Bates' eighteenth birthday party back in the fall her parents flew a DJ in from Denmark and there was apparently a sushi chef and a champagne fountain."

"A champagne fountain?"

"A fudging champagne fountain."

"Wait, there's fudge in it? That sounds much less appetizing."

"No, 'fudging' is just my replacement for the f-word right now. I'm trying to swear less."

"I feel like you can do better than 'fudging.'"

"You think? Like what?"

"Hmm, good question. I don't know." I thought about it for a second. "Try something like 'flaming' or 'blooming.'"

"A flaming fountain? A blooming fountain?"

"Yeah, nevermind, I don't love those."

"My pappy always used to say 'doggone.' I think that was the 1950s version of the f-word."

"I think the f-word was the 1950s version of the f-word, but I do like the idea. Give it a try."

He cleared his throat ever-so-softly. "They're gonna have a doggone champagne fountain."

"Whoah. Dude, I think you just resurrected that word."

"You think?"

"I doggone do. Wow. Wait, why are you trying to swear less?"

"Doing some soul-searching. Don't want to cuss just to cuss, ya know? Trying to separate myself out from the sheep."

"I think you do that plenty already, Robbie," I sniggered.

He raised his eyebrows at me, but his eyes were laughing and the corners of his mouth turned up a bit.

Allie finally erupted. "What the #@&% are you guys whispering about?!"

"I think you mean 'doggone,'" we said in unison, proceeding to immediately laugh harder than I had in weeks.

"That—that doesn't even make sense," she groaned with a tone of resignation, a lament of despondency.

We got ahold of ourselves and placated Allie with promises of owing her big time. After all, seeing Mindy Bates in a two-piece was worth it by itself. We talked excitedly about several of the girls who would be there: classmates we'd had crushes on for years. Robbie and I knew several of the cheerleaders personally, but I only knew the ones from our tutoring days who were typically on the edges of the double-file-formation and the bottoms of the pyramids. Robbie, surprisingly, knew a few more than I did. Ones I knew for a fact never came through tutoring. I didn't probe or pry, of course, but it was a bit weird considering we'd always know the same exact people.

Allie derided us, saying, "Come. Don't come. I don't care. If one of you doesn't kiss Mindy by the end of the night, though, I will."

Robbie, munching on a hot pocket I just then realized he'd had in his shirt pocket the whole time, replied through a mouthful, "You swinging that way now?"

"What? You think just because I would kiss a girl that automatically makes me a lesbian? It's a known fact that every woman in this world deserves to get kissed on the mouth before any and every man. It's an innate part of our womanhood."

"I mean, I don't disagree with you on that at all. I only disagree that it should be you kissing them on the mouth instead of me," I laughed.

"Shoot your shot, soldier," she deadpanned in a monotone voice, her eyes on the road. "You'll have to let me know if she's wearing her peach lip-gloss."

Robbie and I exchanged glances, then he cautiously approached the question burning on both our minds. "You're telling me you've kissed Mindy Bates?"

"I didn't say that," Allie shot back.

"You're sure as hell implying it!" He guffawed.

"What do you two nerds think I do on Thursdays when you're off sitting in your parents' basement playing pretend? I hang out with people. We laugh. We gossip. Maybe we kiss once or twice, maybe we play Dungeons & Dragons. It's certainly none of your business. I have other friends, ya know."

Robbie and I exchanged glances, once again. This time I piped up with a giant grin, "No, that doesn't sound right. I'm pretty sure we're all you've got."

Rather than laughing or punching my bruised arm, a smile came onto Allie's face. I couldn't tell the emotions behind it, but she said, "That wouldn't be so bad, actually." She shot me a side-eye. "Not saying that's the case, of course."

"Of course," I smiled back wryly.

She cranked up the tunes and we left the conversation there all the way to the party. It wasn't a silent car ride, mind you.

We shared music.

We sang our hearts out.

A last little bit of normal.