I helped Nigel set up, feeling perversely pleased when I kicked Marty and his friend off the couch. Nigel unpacked his bags, spreading flyers and booklets across the coffee table as Barry brought in extra chairs from the dining room. There were four couples in all, none of whom I cared enough about to remember their names once they introduced themselves.
I sat on the couch with Nigel, flipping through the latest copy of Freshmen magazine and trying not to get aroused looking at the hard, naked boys spread inside. When Nigel asked, I got up to cut off the stereo. In the sudden silence, the guests stopped talking and shuffled instead, rattling the flyers and looking around nervously.
“Relax,” Nigel told them. He ran a hand through his hair, which fell back into perfect waves to frame his
