“Okay, then.” Jake let go of Gabe’s arm and walked to the apartment door and opened it, standing in front of the stairs. “I guess I’ll see you on Saturday.”
“Yeah,” Gabe croaked. “Wait!” he added immediately. “I forgot—sorry. You, uh, you shouldn’t drink alcohol for about twenty-four hours beforehand. It’ll make you bleed, too.”
“Right. Sure.” Jake smiled, but it looked like he was dredging it up from somewhere. “Take care.”
“You, too,” Gabe said.
Jake shut the door behind him. Gabe could hear the thumping of his footsteps down the stairs.
“What do you want, Jake?” Gabe asked the hot, empty air. This was ridiculous. No, Gabe thought unhappily, he was ridiculous. He was crushing like a high schooler—like Hype with that Brokeback Mountain guy—and in about three days he was going to be t
