ee slotted their hips together and rolled his hips in a slanted, circular grind that, when Milo followed the lead, brought them low and steady to the beat.

Those that had their eyes on them whistled obnoxiously as Milo laughed and gave Lee an encouraging smile when the verse shifted tempo and Lee's left foot stepped back, pivoting until he was dancing on his own, hands up to his shoulders as he spun, cranking his hands like he was a cog in a machine that jerked to a halt at the Spanish verse.

He rolled his torso nice and slow. He could feel the heat of the room getting to his head where his breath was gone, eyes channeling on the colored lights circling the living room.

He heard Milo saying, "Ai, ai, ai!" with a purr that rolled his tongue and sent shivers across Lee's skin where Milo's hands curved over his hips and flattened over his abdomen. The clamminess of Milo's skin against his back was, by far, the greatest experience ever to be had in his eighteen years of existence.

A shuddered breath nearly took Lee out at the knees when Milo's hand grazed lower to the tingling skin of his inner thigh. Every inch of his skin was quivering at the touch, and the sensation of Milo's damp breath against his ear, tickling his neck.

They rocked together through the song at the end of which, everyone had went on with their lives and Milo shouted over the music, "Have you gotten something to drink yet?"

Lee turned, shaking his head. He could barely stand straight and, thankfully, Milo steadied him with a hand on his back. He wondered if his lightheadedness was obvious.

Milo gestured towards the archway at the far side of the living room. Lee nodded and reached out to tap Rushil on the shoulder. He waved to get his friend's attention at which point he pointed over to where Milo was starting to lead the way. "We're getting something to drink!" Lee explained.

Rushil and the red-haired girl hurried to follow. The girl held Rushil by the hand and tugged on Lee's arm to keep the three of them connected. They wove through the crowd as dense electronic music shook the room and flashed the strobe lights over them. The motion through the crowd became choppy, blending together into one vast sheet of silhouettes abruptly overexposed, the lights glistening on the sweaty sheen of their foreheads.

Lee's head buzzed, vision swaying until they were at last beyond the crowd. The air was distinctly salty on his tongue as he trailed after the sight of Milo's loose, maroon shirt billowing behind him on his way down the stairs to the basement of the frat house.

People lined the railing of the stairs, sitting, standing, all of the above. Lee passed them by and took Olivia's hand when she offered it. At the base of the stairs, Lee nearly tripped into Milo's back when he stopped, suddenly distracted by the group of football guys gathered in the dingy basement.

The frat house basement honestly looked like the set of a horror film. From the concrete floors to the cement brick walls, Lee was certain he saw this same scene in a murder mystery before. It likely involved a cellar and a serial killer. Distinctly, he felt Olivia squeeze his hand tighter as she shifted closer to Rushil's side.

The basement had less of a crowd, but a crowd nonetheless. A makeshift bar had been set up at the far side of the basement. A wooden shelf on the wall was lined with liquor bottles and two of the frat guys were playing bartender.

Milo turned back to them, pointing to where Roland Ball sat on a makeshift chair made of plastic cartons. "Roland brought Jack Daniels and Whiteclaw if you're into that, otherwise we can get something from the bar."

Lee grimaced a little, but Rushil seemed fine with whiskey. Roland got up to throw his arms around Rushil and, likewise, Olivia. Olivia's eyes went wide as her cheek was pushed up against the quarterback's massive pec. Her hand dropped from Lee's.

"Do you like whiskey?" Milo asked.

Lee shook his head. "Nah. I'm not much for hard liquor."

"What about Whiteclaw?"

"What even is that?" Lee said, squinting suspiciously.

Milo shrugged and said, "Chads and Brads drink it, I don't fucking know."

"What's it made of? Pure testosterone?"

Milo laughed, crossing his arms as he leant back against the archway beam. "Tell me what you like, then, and I'll get it for you. Whiteclaw be damned."

Lee thought about it. His brother Sen was his designated alcohol provider until the start of the semester. Sen's moral ambiguity prevented him from policing what Lee did and didn't do so long as he followed the family legacy. At Sen's college house parties, he'd mix Lee's drinks and they were always the best damn things he ever tasted.

He never knew the name of them, though.

"I don't know the name of it," he confessed, tapping a finger to his chin. "It's sweet... kind of tastes like soda and coconuts?"

Milo straightened a little and said, "Must be a rum and coke. Come on—I'm paying."

Lee startled at the suggestion, but Milo was already walking up to the bar and bypassing the line. He hurried after Milo, saying, "You don't have to—!" but Milo already slapped a ten dollar bill into the frat guy's hand and said, "The best Malibu and coke you've ever made, my good sir."

The frat guy saluted Milo and said, "Can do, captain."

The instant the solo cup was pushed into Lee's hands, Milo pulled him off to the side to make room for more customers. The cup was so full, a splash of it sloshed onto the cement. Lee cursed and put his lips to the rim just to relieve a little of it to stop it from overflowing. One sip, though, had him melting a little.

This. This was his kind of drink.

"Good?" Milo said, a hand against the wall as Lee nodded, the sweet, sweet coconut on his tongue. "Good. 'Cause after you finish that, we're dancing the entire night."

"Oh really?" Lee droned, rolling his eyes. "Since when did we decide that?"

"Since you gave me a hard on just watching you on the dance floor," he said.

Lee snorted. He dragged his eyes back to Milo, but Milo merely raised his eyebrows at Lee. The heat from dancing flooded to his cheeks. "Oh, you're serious," Lee huffed, voice cracking. He cleared his throat.

"I'm serious about the dancing. Kind of kidding about the hard on," Milo said, shifting his weight to his other foot. Lee instinctively looked down, only to snap his eyes back up after his eyes honed in on Milo's crotch. Milo grinned. "Kind of kidding."

Before Lee's head could implode, he was interrupted by Olivia appearing at his side. He sighed in relief at the distraction. He thought he might overheat if he lived another second in conversation with Milo.

Olivia held a hand out to him, so he shook it as she said, "I take it you know this superstar then."

"Uh, yeah, we... met through Rushil," Lee said, glancing at Milo.

Milo offered a sweet smile and said, "We're gym buddies."

Olivia let out a loud laugh and nodded, "Yeah, right, 'gym buddies'. Anyway, you really know how to move."

"Th-Thanks, I guess," Lee stammered, eyes wide. He hid his embarrassment behind the rim of his cup as Olivia asked for his name.

Rushil answered for her. "Lee Asano, at your service. I'm Rushil."

"Otherwise known as my dear, sweet Rushi Roll," Milo chimed in, eyes closed with a content smile on his face. He crossed his arms and tipped his shoulder against the wall as Olivia raised an eyebrow at him.

"We're roommates," Rushil explained.

"Ah, that explains it then," she hummed. She produced her phone from the pocket on the side of her leggings and, unlocking it, held it out to him. "Well, in case we don't see each other again tonight, text me sometime. And Lee—It's 'Lee', right?—You should hit me up sometime. I'm part of a hiphop group on campus and honestly we just scout the frat parties for recruits. Think of it as a weekly Zumba class but more raunchy."

"Oh, no, I don't dance," Lee said.

They all stared at him like he just blurted out a blatant lie, which was exactly what he just did. He didn't know how else to explain that dancing wasn't something he practiced frequently. He was partly homeschooled most of his life and, in high school, his university classes didn't exactly warrant school dances. The only experience he had was with Sen at house parties.

Olivia put her phone up to Lee's face as soon as Rushil was done with it. Lee sighed and tapped his username into her contacts.

She ended with a plastic smile on her doll-like face and said, "Perfect. I'm sure I'll see you three around again."

"Hey, what about my snapchat?" Milo whined. He pulled his phone out from his back pocket and brought up his code.

Olivia sighed and took a picture of it. "Not really interested in football players, no offense."

"I'll be whatever you want me to be," Milo said.

Olivia flicked him in the forehead before making her escape. Milo slapped a hand over the spot with a moan of agony that sounded obscenely orgasmic. A few people looked in their direction as Rushil slapped a hand over his face to cover his embarrassment up.

When Milo recovered, Lee finished off his Malibu with a few last gulps. He could start to taste the dense alcohol in the back of his throat like cough syrup. After tossing the cup, Milo grabbed him by the hand and started dragging him to the stairs.

They cruised past the football guys as Lee cried, "Where are we going?!"

Milo leapt up one step before turning around to say, "We made a deal—Dancing!"

Lee staggered after him, muttering, "Right, dancing."

____________

By midnight, Milo asked if he wanted another drink. Lee's entire body felt like Milo's hands had been there, done that. It settled in his stomach and twisted his guts into perfect little bows and each tug buzzed in his skull and stirred his brains into a fluffy, foaming concoction of pure bliss. Milo fetched him another Malibu and coke, and when he returned, Lee could be found on the window sill bench over everyone's heads. He chugged the drink and chucked the cup into the crowd where it nailed someone in the ponytail and ricochetted to the alcohol-soaked floor.

By one in the morning, 'dancing' left their radar.

Milo asked if he wanted a tour of the frat house, which, of course, he couldn't pass up.

It would take more than two cups of Malibu to put Lee out of commission. His head felt like cotton, though—if cotton crackled with electricity, maybe. He couldn't put the proper words to it, but it felt like the way the skin on his spine felt where Milo had his hand on the small of Lee's back.

They passed the living room balcony as Milo bypassed all of the closed rooms, naming off the guys who lived in them. Lee wasn't paying much attention—what he was paying attention to, though, was Milo's profile as they walked. Milo, with his full head of black hair and sharp, defined hairline. Those cute fucking ears. God. It just made Lee so mad looking at them. He wanted to wring Milo's perfect neck for defying normal.

They went to the third floor of the frat where, at the first door on the left, Milo pushed it open. It was dark inside until Milo flipped on the switch and said, "This is Roland's room."

Lee hesitated to step over the threshold, but then Milo was walking in and holding the door open for him. He leant in, eyes scanning over the movie posters on the walls, the somewhat-made bed, and the open closet door on the far side of the room. Used towels were strewn over the hanger hooks on the door, but for the most part, the place was clean. There was a narrow window at the far side of the room overlooking the street behind the frat's parking lot.

"So this is the room of a quarterback. I'd say I'm impressed, but I'm really not," Lee said with a laugh, turning back around. The door was closed and Milo was standing right there.

Lee sucked in a sharp breath. Milo's eyes lifted up to meet his own, hardly wavering. When Lee exhaled, he wondered if Milo could smell the coconut, or maybe the bubblegum from his toothpaste several hours prior before he ever dared hope to be alone in a bedroom with Milo Park.

Milo's eyes drifted down and Lee followed the motion of Milo swallowing hard before Milo cleared his throat and said, "What do you want me to do?" He was staring at Lee's lips, he fucking knew it.

Lee licked his bottom lip just to get a hint. The flutter of Milo's eyelids was enough.

"To kiss me," Lee said.