“… and THEN she fucking freaks out on me because I’m flying ‘all the way to New York for strippers.’ I’m like ‘GINGER! Calm the fuck down.’ Fuckin’ women I swear dude.”

Justin laughs watching his best friend growl irritated as he steps off the elevator, hoisting the two cases of beer higher under his arms as he shuffles down the hallway. Justin juggles their duffle bags with the four or five bottles wrapped in brown paper bags, following him with mild amusement.

“I thought you said there wasn’t gonna be any strippers,” Justin says and Trace stops mid waddle to give him a withered look over his shoulder.

“Please,” Trace scoffs shuffling a little farther before stopping and hoisting the cases higher before taking the last few steps to the only door in the hall. “It’s your bachelor party. Fuck, why did I get stuck with the cases?”

“Because it’s my bachelor party,” Justin grins glancing around. “Where’s the key.”

Trace groans, letting his head fall back. “My pocket.” His eyes meet Justin’s.

“Don’t fuckin’ look at me,” Justin sputters with a laugh and Trace rolls his eyes.

“We’ve known each other since fuckin birth, J. Now be a man and put your hand in my pocket.”

Justin rolls his eyes, juggling the items in his hands, pinning a few bottles under his arm so he can wiggle his hand into Trace’s back pocket.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Trace asks jumping and Justin jumps too, snatching his hand back.

“Trying to get the key!” Justin snaps back and Trace rolls his eyes.

“It’s in my front pocket you fucking fag.”

Justin laughs. “Oh you’re telling me to stick my hand in your front pocket and I’m the fag?”

“Just get the goddamn key. These aren’t getting any lighter,” Trace snaps, shifting the cases in his hands and grumbling.

Justin sighs as he worms his arm through Trace’s, fingers crawling into his front pocket just as the elevator dings again. He looks over his shoulder and a cold thrill of adrenaline runs through him as he sees Charlotte step off, mumbling to herself and her face goes from weary to shocked as her eyes fall on the two of them. He merely blinks back at her, caught off guard by the sudden quickening of his heart beat and only snaps out of it when she covers her mouth to muffle a high peal of giggles.

“What… what are you doing?”

Its then that he realizes that his hand is still dug in his best friend’s front pocket. He snatches back immediately, nearly knocking the case out of Trace’s hand and putting a good three feet of space between them, his ears tingeing red.

“I… I was just… getting the key… you know it was in his pocket and his hands were… were full…”

“Justin there’s no sense in hiding it now. She’s seen everything. Might as well call off the wedding,” Trace says with a dramatic sigh. “Hey Charlie,” he adds with a grin and Charlotte giggles at him. “Would you like to help me out here? I’m tired of him playing with my cock and balls.”

Charlotte barks out another laugh, hurrying over to them and she leans to pull one of the cases into her arms, letting it thump back against her chest giving a soft “oomph.” Trace groans in relief, curling and uncurling his arm before reaching into his pocket for the key.

“You got that okay?” Justin asks, his eyes roving over her and taking her in, getting his first good look at her in weeks.

She gives him a shy smile, nodding as Trace kicks the door open and she hurries in after him.

Charlotte looks around, her mouth going slack as Trace moves to hoist his case onto the wet bar to their right. She’s in awe, glancing around at a dining area to her left that’s separated from the expansive sitting area in front of her by a grand piano. The room stretches back and back, the space seeming to go on forever before disappearing into a hallway. The entire space is dappled in afternoon sunlight from atrium style skylights, Time Square bustling fifty stories below.  She shakes her head; every time she thinks she’s seen the epitome of luxury she is always surprised. She thought Justin’s suite in California was nice but-

Her train of thought cuts itself off, not wanting to go there but her eyes flick to him on reflex, as he nudges his way past her, his chest brushing her shoulder. He gives her a quick smile as he begins to set the bagged bottles on the bar along with the beer and she smiles back at him, warmth fluttering in her stomach.

“You know I was kinda pissed at first when Amelia railroaded my bachelor party pad plan but I gotta admit,” Trace says with a sigh as he steps out into the sitting area and looks around before his eyes fall on Justin and Charlotte again, “this place is pretty fuckin’ awesome. You gonna set that case down or keep cuddlin’ it?”

Charlotte looks down at the beer in her arms and giggles sheepishly, moving to hoist it onto the counter, jumping when Justin’s hands brush her arms to aid her. She stands back, tucking her hair behind her ear as he rips into the box, pulling out four beers or so and making his way around the counter to put them in the fridge.

“You want a beer?” Trace asks, shuffling back over and pulling one out of the box before Justin can unload it into the fridge.

“Oh…” Charlotte says with a chuckle. “No… I’m okay.”

“You sure?” Trace asks, popping the top. “There’s plenty.”

Charlotte shakes her head, scrunching up her nose as Justin cracks into the other case, starting to load it into the fridge as well.

“What brings you here this fine afternoon?” Trace asks, sipping at the can and then looking at Justin. “Beer?”

“Nah I’m okay,” Justin says, slipping the last of the cans in the fridge before closing the door and beginning to break down the boxes. Trace looks at him with mock outrage.

“Dude it’s your bachelor party!” he exclaims and Justin nods, rolling his eyes. “No seriously. Seriously.”

“I know but we’ve been drinking since what?” Justin says with a laugh as he glances at his watch “Eleven. And it’s only four. We have the whole night to go still.”

 “Justin,” Trace says, his face dead serious and Justin situates his own features into one of grave solemnity, playing along. “You’re getting married in seven days. It’s your last night to get truly fucked up. We have this huge ass suite,” he says gesturing around, “the rest of the guys are going to be here in a few hours but this,” he gestures between the two of them, “is best man bonding time,” he says and Justin can’t hold in his laugh causing Trace to grin, shoving the can of beer into his hand. “So drink the fuck up.”

“Okay, okay,” Justin concedes, taking a reluctant sip from the can and Trace grins, sidling around the counter to get into the fridge.

Justin shakes his head, tipping his head back to take a deeper swig. This is exactly what he needs. A night of total and complete recklessness, abandoning every sense of propriety and just getting fall down shitfaced. He’d been looking forward to this more and more as the daily grind of his life in New York had settled back in and the brief time he’d spent at home slipped farther into the past along with all the advice he’d gotten. Between last minute tux fittings and dinners with all of the out-of-towners that have been trickling in he hasn’t had much time to wonder if what he’s doing is the right thing. And what was “the right thing” anyway? It had all seemed so important back home, sitting on the picnic table with his grandfather. He’d agonized over it and now with the wedding mere days away it all seemed kind of silly and pointless. Like he’d told Charlotte such a long time ago, there is no stopping this thing.

“You sure you don’t want one Charlie?” Trace asks and Justin’s eyes flick to her, her green eyes crashing into his.

“No… I’m good really. I’m on the job.”

Trace winces and gives a short hiss. “All the more reason for you to drink.” He plunks a can down in front of her and she eyes it wearily.

“Amelia’s gonna be here any second…” Charlotte says uneasily and she can see Justin’s shoulders tense. “She asked me to meet her here.”

“What!” Trace exclaims, looking absolutely appalled and Charlotte giggles. “What the hell and here I thought you were just coming by to give my boy here his last thrill as a single man.”

Both Justin and Charlotte tense but she recovers before he can, letting out another soft laugh. “He’s not that lucky,” she replies and Justin body jerks somewhat when he feels the back of her hand nudge his bicep playfully. Trace laughs.

“Burn, buddy,” Trace grins, nudging the can closer to Charlotte. “Come on, ONE drink.”

“Trace if Amelia comes in here and finds me holding a beer she will come un-frigging-glued,” Charlotte says with a laugh and Trace sets his can down, holding up a finger as he grabs at one of the bottles wrapped in paper.

“No worries. Its about time we brought Jack out to play,” Trace grins, unsheathing the bottle and Charlotte shakes her head. “Justin… glasses.”

“You’re gonna be passed out in the floorboard of the car before we even reach the bar tonight,” Justin warns and a trill of peevishness nags at him. He can’t get truly fucked up if Trace is hammered too.

“I am not!” Trace exclaims, snatching three glasses from under the bar and lining them up, cracking open the bottle and tipping amber liquid into each glass. “I would like to propose a toast,” Trace says, tilting his chin up and raising his glass. Justin sighs reaching for a glass and lifting it and Charlotte does so as well albeit reluctantly, “to the end of the good years. Let it be a night we can’t remember.”

Trace chuckles heartily to himself as he clanks his glass roughly against Justin’s and then Charlotte’s before throwing his drink back and Justin’s brows crease, Charlotte looking down into her glass and swirling the contents.

“That was kind of shitty,” he says and Trace looks over at him bewildered.

“I was fuckin’ kidding dude,” Trace says back, his voice slightly annoyed. “Lighten up!” Justin eyes him skeptically and Trace rolls his eyes. “Look if you’re gonna have a giant stick up your ass all evening we should just call this off.”

“I’m not!” Justin insists and Trace glares at him.

“Then shut up and drink,” Trace insists and then looks at Charlotte. “You too.”

“Trace leave her alo-”

But his words cut themselves off and he watches in slight surprise as she throws it back, downing the entire glass before either can speak a word and sets the glass back down on the bar with a slight clatter. She doesn’t wince, doesn’t shiver and Justin gets a bitter taste in the back of his throat when he realizes that she’s probably doing shots on a weekly basis now. Felicity and her friends know how to party.

“Wow…” Trace trails, eyeing her up and down, impressed.

 “Now Trace is there anything else you’d like me to do before my boss gets here and fires me?” Charlotte replies, avoiding Justin’s gaze.

“Well since you’re offerin…” Trace replies, grinning lasciviously at her and she narrows her eyes at him before letting out a soft chuckle.

They continue to banter back and forth, the kind of biting remarks that used to excite Justin, amp him up when it was he and Charlotte that were playing this game but now all it does is piss him off. He’s an outsider looking in and he lets himself feel the space between them, not something that can be described so much anymore as a gulf but as a void, empty and airless. It’s the absence of everything they used to be and he’d been able to avoid it by avoiding her but with her standing barely five feet from him it’s impossible to evade the ache and the anger at having lost something that had once been so precious to him.

Trace’s bark of laughter startles him out of his daze, his best friend shaking his head. “Well on that note, I’m gonna take a piss. If I’m not back in ten minutes send out a search party.”

Charlotte shakes her head watching him traipse across the long living room before disappearing into the hallway and she sighs, her eyes falling on Justin who is standing behind the bar still, his brows drawn in that way she had learned to associate with his displeasure. She’s slightly put off by it, smiling at him awkwardly before letting her eyes travel around the room again, looking up at the hazy blue sky through the curving skylight. She’s uncomfortable, feeling his eyes on her and while she tells herself she can’t remember the last time that they were alone together she knows deep inside that it’s a lie.

She’s been lying to herself a lot lately, telling herself that she’s fine and she’s better off now that she finally knows where she stands with Justin. She can go out now, have fun with girl friends, dance until the bars close and accept drinks from men with dark hungry eyes that she always leaves wanting. Not that she couldn’t do any of those things before. It wasn’t like she and Justin were in any kind of relationship…

“Did Amelia say why she was coming by?” Justin asks after a moment, leaning against the bar and taking another swig of his beer.

“I think she just wants to talk to you about your parents getting in tomorrow,” Charlotte says, shifting slightly as she watches her hand run along the granite counter top. She looks up suddenly. “Hey, how was your trip home? I haven’t talked to you since…”

Her voice trails and he denotes the sadness in it, feeling the void between them tremble as they try to penetrate it. He hates how much he misses her. Not the mess that they’d gotten themselves into so much as just her, her friendship and her compassion. He misses the way she used to just understand whatever he was feeling or going though. He can’t tell if she can see any of that anymore.

“It was good,” he says after a moment, offering her a small smile and she returns it genuinely. “Everyone asked after you.” Charlotte blushes slightly and his smile widens. “I told them you were back in school, hanging out with Fee and her friends.”

“Oh jeez,” Charlotte says bringing her hand up to her forehead and Justin chuckles.

“You girls goin’ out tonight?” he questions lightly, eyeing her as he tips his head back, taking another drink.

“Um… no, not tonight,” Charlotte says and then gives a nervous chuckle.

“Why not?” Justin questions and Charlotte shifts uncomfortably looking at the countertop. “You’re doing that thing… where you don’t look at me,” he offers, timidly stirring up the dregs of their old friendship and Charlotte’s face goes from nervous to pleasantly surprised to beaming, her smile causing butterflies to set loose in his stomach.

“I’m not… not looking at you. I’m just…” she trails and she can’t push down her smile as she says what she’d always said in the past when he’d accused her of not meeting his gaze, “not looking at you.”

He beams back at her for a slight moment, his brain racing as he contemplates his rebuttal, heart hammering in his chest. He wants to bring up something about the weather van, or Al Roker or something else that was so them but its overshadowed by a cold sense of dread that eases the smile from his face.

“Amelia isn’t having you follow me is she?”

Charlotte laughs. “No… no no no,” she shakes her head and then giggles again.

“You sure?” Justin asks, eyeing her guardedly.

“Positive,” Charlotte says holding her palms up to him in surrender. “I have no clue what your plans are for the evening. And knowing Trace I’m not sure I want to.”

“I’ll admit I’m a little scared,” Justin replies, setting his beer on the bar and leaning against it casually. Charlotte grins.

“I doubt you’ll be conscious for much of it,” she replies and Justin raises his eyebrows.

“You may very well be right,” he grins and marvels at how easy this is, slipping back into who they were, and while it hurts him it revitalizes him as well. He’s missed her so very much.

“So if you’re not bar hopping with Fee what are your plans? Take out and a movie?” Justin’s smile fades as Charlotte’s face goes dark, shifting her feet and looking down at the bar. “You’re not looking at me again.”

“I kinda have a date,” she says quietly, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and Justin can feel the air suck right out of his lungs as if he’d been sucker punched.

“Oh…”

“Fee set it up,” she quickly goes on to explain, her stomach curling, “It’s… it’s just drinks.”

She winces, wishing she’d made something up. She had figured he’d react like he always did, blink quick and then smile wishing her luck or steamrolling it with a joke. Instead he’s refusing to meet her gaze, his face set in a blank mask and she can’t read him.

“Well, um…” Justin says, letting out an awkward chuckle as he brings his hand up to run across the back of his neck. “Good luck with that.”

He feels strangely limbless, the pain of it disorienting and he wishes he could stop the movie reel in his head of Charlotte with another man, having a drink, walking hand in hand, going out to dinner, fucking. He shakes his head hard, reaching to throw back the rest of his beer, not wanting to think about it and though he’s able to shove the pain down he finds that the anger isn’t so easily buried.

“What’d I miss?” Trace asks, jogging back across the living room and they both jump, their hands falling from the bar and taking a step back, an old force of habit.

“Charlotte has a date tonight,” Justin says, his voice mocking as he rounds the bar, shuffling into the seating area and Charlotte feels his words as if they were a slap.

Trace raises an eyebrow. “Do we not like the guy?” he questions, watching Justin flop down onto the couch, throwing his feet up on the coffee table.

“We don’t even know the guy,” Charlotte replies, her eyes trying to search Justin’s in confusion but he refuses to look at her and she can feel annoyance simmering inside her. Trace looks between the two of them suspiciously, lowing himself into a chair.

“Why are letting Fee set you up anyway?” Justin replies testily, looking across the room at her defiantly, “All the guys she dates are trust fund assholes who just want to get laid,” he pauses, holding on to some kind of restraint but loses it when that image of Charlotte at this birthday party pops into his head, looking ethereal in her white dress, talking to a wealthy man in an expensive suit. “Unless that’s just what you’re after.”

He doesn’t look at her but hears her gasp at his words. He feels Trace tense next to him, and the room is silent as he pulls a throw pillow out from under him and tosses it on the floor. He knows he has no right to act this way towards her. He’s the one that called it off and he knows deep down that he hurt her. It kills him to think that he did but he can’t change that. He hates that he can’t change that and that’s what it comes down to. He’s stuck in this life and all he can do is go to his bachelor party and get drunk, try not to think about someone else’s hands all over Charlotte. In seven days he’ll say his vows and the whole fucking mess will be over. At least that’s the truth he’s consoling himself with these days.

“Yeah, Justin,” Charlotte replies, her voice cold. “I can see why you’d think that.” She pauses waiting for him to look at her and when he glances her way she adds, “I have a tendency to get involved with assholes.”

He snorts, looking down at his hands again shame and hurt thickening in his throat so he doesn’t reply. Trace lets out an awkward cough.

“Alright Mom and Dad let’s keep this one together for the kids okay?” he deadpans uneasily but the tension isn’t alleviated and Trace’s suspicion that there is something deeper going on here only thickens.

“I’ll wait for Amelia in the lobby,” Charlotte says, turning away disgusted and angry, not just at Justin but at the lump in her throat.

She hates that she just lets him keep hurting her over and over again. She wants so desperately not to care, to tell him that he deserves Amelia and the fucked up life he’s committing himself to. But now when she’s probably as pissed at him as she’s ever been she can’t bring herself to do it. There’s still that part of her that cries out for him to stop, to listen to her, to listen to himself. He doesn’t want her with anyone else, doesn’t that tell him something? She lets out a frustrated growl, stomping her way towards the door and she tells herself that this is the last time. That once she steps out this door and closes it behind her she won’t care about him anymore, won’t worry about him fucking up his life anymore.

She gives out a startled cry as she swings the door open and finds Amelia standing there, key card in her hand as if she were just about to let herself in. Amelia merely blinks, giving Charlotte a quick once over before blinking again.

“Where were you off to?” she asks shortly, nudging past Charlotte into the suite and looking around appraisingly. “Well this is just lovely.” She sighs looking around pleased until her eyes fall on her fiancé who is staring sullenly at the rug and Trace who is watching his best friend with thinly veiled curiosity. “Is everything alright?” Amelia asks, her face puckering in concern as she walks over to Justin, picking up the pillow he’d discarded and nudging it between his ribs and the side of the couch. “You know darling you don’t have to do this thing if you don’t want to,” she says sweetly, leaning against the arm of the couch as her hand falls on Justin’s shoulder before curling around the back of his neck, fingers twisting in the curls at the base of his skull soothingly.

Trace rolls his eyes, pulling himself up from his chair and making his way over to the wet bar grabbing their glasses and rinsing them in the sink. He doesn’t want to be a part of this conversation. Justin looks up slightly bewildered, his brows creasing and his eyes meet Charlotte’s who is still standing in the doorway, looking as if this is the last place on earth she wants to be. He inwardly sneers at the thought of her wishing she was with someone else, visions of her laughing and drinking with some dork in an overpriced suit.

“I mean hardly anyone does the seedy bar thing anymore,” Amelia goes on, her nails scratching at his scalp soothingly and his eyelids flutter.

“Babe, Trace went to a lot of trouble to plan this for me,” Justin says tiredly and Trace looks up from rinsing the glasses, indignation burning in his dark eyes.

“And Justin wants to go,” Trace says pointedly, glaring at Justin and Amelia doesn’t even look up. Trace sighs looking at Charlotte and giving her an exasperated stare. She just shakes her head sadly as if defeated and Trace wonders how many times she’s seen an exchange like this one.

“We could all just have dinner at Samba instead! That would be much more fun. Charlotte, call and make a reservation for ten-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Trace asks, his anger boiling over so he slams a glass on the granite counter top a little harder than necessary. Amelia jumps, finally looking up at him annoyed. “Justin… come on dude!”

“What?” Amelia asks innocently looking from Trace to Justin wide eyed. “What did I say?”

“I’ve been planning this for months!” Trace says. “And he’s gonna have fun! He was having fun until you got here.”

“Trace quit,” Justin says with a sigh, reaching up to rub his temple as a steady throb starts behind his eye.

“Oh yes when I walked in he looked just thrilled to be here,” Amelia replies, her voice dripping with sarcasm, her hand reaching to squeeze Justin’s shoulder. “I was merely suggesting that we could all go out together and have dinner instead of running through a thousand bars.”

“Baby,” Justin says, his voice meek and Trace glances over to find Justin running the back of his hand soothingly up and down Amelia’s arm. “Its okay. Really.”

“It’s okay? You’re not seriously considering this are you?” Trace asks in disbelief, annoyance boiling deep in his gut and he thinks he sees Charlotte take a step closer to the bar, her hand reaching out in a cautioning gesture.

“Man, just…” Justin starts before heaving a sigh, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, the pain stabbing behind his forehead suddenly unbearable.

“You’re seriously considering blowing off our bachelor party plans? Really?” Trace questions, still trying to wrap his head around the idea.

“Trace, just calm down,” Justin says holding out a warning hand as Trace rounds the end of the bar, Charlotte taking quick steps to wrap her fingers around his bicep.

“He wouldn’t be blowing you off,” Amelia replies innocently, leaning more fully onto Justin and he shifts beneath her weight. “You could come.”

“Oh well thank you so much, Amelia,” Trace replies wryly. “Come on dude we’ve had this planned forever! You can’t just bail on it.”

“No one is bailing on anything,” Amelia says with a tinkling laugh as if he were being absurd. “I’m merely suggesting we change venue. Not all of us think getting fall down drunk is a good time.”

“God don’t you ever get tired of having that stick up your ass,” Trace says, shoulders slumping and he’s suddenly exhausted. He wonders how Justin does it, plays this game day in and day out.

“Trace quit being a dick,” Justin sighs heavily, shading his eyes with his hand in an attempt to dull the pounding there and Trace’s jaw drops, a look of deep disgust covering his face as the anger and the hurt boil over.

“I will as soon as you grow a pair you pansy ass mother fucker,” he spits, turning quickly so he doesn’t see the look of shock and deep hurt bloom across Justin’s face, shaking off Charlotte’s loose grip and stomping out of the penthouse.

Charlotte watches him dumbly as he slams the door behind him, shock washing over her in waves. When she turns to look back at Justin and Amelia her heart trembles slightly at the look on Justin’s face, wounded and shell shocked as if Trace had kicked him right in the nuts. In a way she guesses he did. She waits for the wounded look to leave his features, to be wiped away by a mask but it stays, as if he’s too deeply hurt to try and fake it, or he is trying and can’t quiet get there. She feels her heart tugging, pulling itself to shreds and she wills herself not to care. He’s not her concern anymore and he never should have been in the first place. Amelia is the one responsible for his happiness. Let her worry about him.

But that thought goes flying out the window when Charlotte takes in the look of smug satisfaction on Amelia’s face, watching her pat Justin’s arm as if she’s trying to soothe but the gesture is nothing if not mocking. Justin looks down to watch her hand touch his skin and his brow creases, looking back towards the door, his eyes holding Charlotte’s for the briefest moment and that’s all it takes for her to turn to the door.

“Trace!”

She scurries to the door, flinging it open as she calls his name again and she catches him as he waits for the elevator, jabbing the down button with ferocity.

“Trace you can’t do this,” Charlotte says calmly, taking in the set line of his jaw as he stands back with his hands on his hips, watching the floor indicator above the door. “You can’t bail on your best friend’s bachelor party!”

Trace turns to her then, the fire in his eyes causing Charlotte’s shoulders to curl as he flings out an arm, jabbing a finger back towards the direction of the penthouse. “That is NOT my best friend. That is a fuckin’ pod person. I don't know him any more.”

“You can’t walk away, Trace,” Charlotte says soberly. “Not now.”

“Why the fuck not?” he asks as the elevator doors slide open and he stares at the empty space inside, hesitating a beat before moving to step in.

Charlotte’s hand wraps around his bicep. “Because you don’t walk away.”

Trace’s face screws up as he turns back towards her, fully prepared to tell her to go fuck herself but the fierce look in her eyes leaves him speechless. Something about her determination to fix this, her desperation to not let Justin drive away the last person in his life who really knows him; this isn’t just some employer loyalty or even a friend protecting another friend. This is something more.

“You don’t run when it gets hard,” Charlotte goes on, breaking him from his thoughts. “You man up or take one for the team or whatever else it is you fucking guys say that makes you stick around.” Trace lets out a slight laugh that takes him by surprise, eyeing Charlotte skeptically. “Come on Trace. He’s your best friend.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies, sighing as he reaches an arm out to stop the elevator doors from closing. “He’s fucking lucky.”

“He is!” Charlotte exclaims beaming at him. “You’re a good man and a great friend. He’s extremely lucky to have you.” She nods authoritatively, still grinning and Trace smiles back at her.

“No I meant for having you,” he says and her smile fades, dimming into a guarded look and she drops her eyes to the floor.

“Trace?”

Both Trace and Charlotte turn finding Justin peeking his head out of the penthouse before stepping out completely, closing the door gently behind him. His movements are calculated and slow, his blue eyes large and apologetic and Trace gives him an exasperated look. Charlotte looks at the floor, her insides twisting.

“Man… I… I do want this party. I told her that,” he cocks his head back towards the penthouse. “I… it’s just…” he lowers his voice, his tone conspiratory. “You know how she is.”

Trace snorts and Charlotte nudges him with her elbow, a movement that causes Justin to frown. “Yeah dude… whatever. It’s fine.”

“It’s not…” Justin sighs. “It’s not fine. I shoulda stuck up for you more in there. I’m…” he shifts, shoving his hands in his pockets and watching his shoe scuff the marble floor. “I’m sorry.”

Trace just watches him for a moment, letting him squirm a bit before heaving a sigh. “Yeah, fine,” he replies and Charlotte elbows him again causing him to huff. “And I’m sorry I was an asshole… I guess.” Trace rolls his eyes but finds he can’t keep the smile off his face when Justin grins at him. “Jesus I just can’t stay mad at you.” He heaves a dramatic sigh, fanning at his face as if he were fighting tears. “You just keep doing this to me over and over and I just take it.”

Justin laughs, throwing an arm around Trace’s shoulder. “Its cause we’re meant to be together baby!”

Charlotte giggles as Trace gives Justin a demur smile and it turns into a bark of a laugh when they air kiss. Justin laughs himself, the sound warming Charlotte to the bone as he shoves his best friend hard, knocking him into the wall and Trace scoffs before jumping up and curling his arm around Justin’s neck, dragging him down and giving him a violent noogie. Charlotte is giggling uncontrollably, watching them spar and she hates herself a little. She’s said it before; it’s impossible to stay mad at Justin.

“Ugh, of course.”

The boys’ scuffling slows to a halt as Amelia’s heels tap smartly against the marble tile, her back straight and Charlotte knows that look. That is the look of a woman who has not gotten her way and is hell bent on making everyone else in the world pay for it.

“Charlotte I don’t know why you’re encouraging them,” Amelia scolds and Charlotte dips her head, doing her best to look chastised. “They could have knocked you off your no name shoes and you would have broken your neck and then what would I do?”

Justin and Trace both frown, looking over at Charlotte who has pressed her lips into a tight smile that Justin recognizes as her thinking “aaaaand there it is.” A smile tugs at his lips, a laugh bubbling in his throat and when Charlotte’s eyes meet his it sneaks out. She rolls her eyes, letting him know that he was right and that he can shove it. His eyes hold on hers for a moment so it startles him when Amelia grabs the open collar of his button down, jerking on it with both hands.

“You’ll have your phone with you?” she asks softly, buttoning one more button at his throat and smoothing her hands down his chest, wiping off his shoulders.

“Um… I guess,” he says uncertainly, watching her pick a piece of lint from his bicep. “But it could be kinda loud. I might not hear-”

“Then put it on vibrate,” she replies, her eyes deadly before giving him a sweet smile and Justin swallows hard.

“Yes, dear,” he replies quietly, leaning to peck her cheek when she offers it to him.

“I’ll take care of him, Amelia,” Trace says with a bored sigh, eyeing her with thinly veiled disdain and she scoffs pressing the elevator button.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Amelia replies before tossing her head waiting for the doors to open. “Come Charlotte,” she orders when they do and Charlotte jumps, scurrying after her.

Justin smiles, waving at them as the doors close and when they’re finally out of sight his shoulders slump, heaving an exhausted sigh. He hears Trace snort.

“Yes, dear,” Trace mocks in a singsong, Justin scowling at him. “Man, I know I apologized for before but you really do need to grow a pair.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Justin grumbles, his ears tingeing pink.

“Whatever,” Trace says with a chuckle, slapping Justin hard on the back before strolling back to the penthouse. “All I gotta say is your ass better not be on the phone with her all damn night.”

***

“The extra invitations? No I have no idea where those are.”

He glances around sullenly, the VIP room cramped with Amelia’s friends’ boyfriends and husbands; his friends now. Scantily clad waitresses bring around trays of tequila shots brushing past topless girls in nothing but g-strings who dance and gyrate for the men in the room and he’s sure that all of this would be much more glamorous if he had a better buzz going. He presses the phone harder to his ear, barely able to hear Amelia over the music pulsing in the background, the laughter and the clinking of glasses.

“Well did you check the office?” he questions, pinching the bridge of his nose wincing as she screeches at him through the line that of course she had and that she wasn’t stupid.

He’s lost track of the amount of times she’s called. He remembers talking to her as the groomsmen had started to arrive, Sasha and Patrick bringing Cuban Cigars that make Justin gag and Christian bestowing upon him a bottle of Scotch that probably cost as much as his parents house. Euan didn’t have a gift but had promised to buy his first lap dance, adding a wink at the end that told Justin the stripper would be doing more than just dancing for him. She had phoned again in the limo when they hit the first bar and then several more times at each location, giving him just enough time to have a few drinks and start to have fun before she tightened the leash. He sneers, wishing that Trace hadn’t made that little observation known to him but Trace isn’t in any state to be watching what he says.

“I’m sorry I can’t help you baby,” Justin says, hoping the listlessness in his voice passes as sorrow at wishing he can’t do more to help her. “Yeah, I’m having a great time,” he mumbles, watching as Trace throws his arms in the air, doing some kind of weird version of the Macarena, making one of the waitresses laugh as she offers him another drink. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you… bye."

Trace stumbles over, nearly knocking over the chair in the process of sitting down and grins hazily at his best friend. “Do I know how to throw a fuckin’ party or WHAT?”

Justin laughs but it feels hollow. “Yeah, man this is awesome.” He takes a small sip of his drink, eyeing his phone on the table.

“The warden call again?” Trace asks, eyeing him over the rim of his beer bottle and Justin rolls his eyes, leaning back sullenly in his chair. “What!” Trace asks and Justin glares at him.

“You don’t have to call her that,” Justin says, less out of defense for Amelia and more out of embarrassment for himself. “She’s just checking on me.”

“She’s checked on you a BILLION times dude. Normal chicks don’t do that,” Trace exclaims, leaning back in his chair to get a better look at one of the strippers dancing in front of Patrick. “Isn’t that guy married?”

Justin glances over, watching as Patrick reaches to undo the string on the girl’s bikini top, receiving cheers from the surrounding crowd. “Yeah.”

Trace shakes his head, taking a deep swig of his beer. “Some friends you got now.”

“They’re okay,” Justin defends weakly, reaching for his glass again and taking a deeper drink, his eyes crawling around the room.

He wonders where Charlotte is in that instant, if she’s getting ready for her date. He pictures her at her bathroom sink, his mind conjuring something out of a toothpaste commercial because he’d never actually seen her place. She’s in her underwear, her hair in curlers as she leans over applying eye liner. He checks his phone and raises his eyebrows when he sees the time. It’s already eleven. She must be on her date by now, sipping drinks in a smoky lounge while a devilishly handsome man has a hand on her thigh.

Trace throws his arm around his shoulders, startling him out of his thoughts. Justin can smell the whiskey on him, practically seeping from his pores and he fights the urge to glare at his best friend. It’s his bachelor party and he’s practically stone cold sober. He should be making bad decisions and Trace should have to be reigning him in. He can’t help being pissed that it’s turned out to be the other way around.

“Check her out, J,” Trace says, gesturing over with his beer and Justin’s gaze wanders to the stripper laying back against Patrick, her hips grinding is slow circles against his as his hands glide smoothly over the flat expanse of her stomach. “This is probably the last time you’re going to see a woman naked. Enjoy it while you can.”

Trace sniggers taking a swig of his beer and Justin has had enough, not just of Trace but of everything. The wedding, this party, Charlotte, Amelia. All of it. He glares at his best friend. “What the fuck is your problem man?”

Trace’s eyes widen, looking at Justin over the mouth of his bottle. “Huh?”

“You’ve been riding my ass all fucking night. Snarky comments about how this is the last night I’ll ever have fun and how I’m never going to get laid again. You got something to say to me Trace just fucking say it,” Justin barks and Trace’s brow furrows, anger burning in his hazy eyes.

“Dude I’m fucking kidding! Just because you have some kind of fucked up insecurity about what you’re doing-”

“I do not!” Justin exclaims and just then his phone lights up on the table, Amelia’s name flashing on the screen again and Trace rolls his eyes flopping back in his chair.

“What the fuck are you waiting for? The warden is gonna throw you in solitary if you don’t answer,” Trace spits and Justin glares at him. He pauses for a moment seemingly holding his tongue but his lack of sobriety doesn’t allow him to hold it for long. “You know I don’t fucking get it J. She already doesn’t fuck you, she has no goddamn respect for you. What else could she possibly do to fuck up your life if you didn’t answer your phone tonight?” Trace mocks and Justin can feel anger and hurt burning deep inside him. “Would she call off the wedding?” he snorts. “Not much of a loss there if you ask me.”

Justin stands so quickly his chair tips backwards and his hands are closing around Trace’s shirt, dragging him up out of his own chair. The table tips and empty bottles and glasses crash to the floor. The crowd around them seems to explode back from them in a ripple, clearing the space. Trace’s hands flail for a moment before making hard contact with Justin’s chest, shoving him backwards and off balance and he stumbles, releasing Trace’s shirt and reaching for the table to regain his footing.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Trace yells and Christian is behind him in an instant, his arm around his chest. “Get the fuck off me!” Trace hollers, struggling and there’s no one to hold Justin back, no one to keep him from hurting his best friend, this fact being the only thing that keeps his feet rooted to the floor. “So this is how its gonna be?” Trace calls, anger and hurt blazing in his dark eyes. “You’re gonna get your boys to hold me down?”

He scoffs shrugging Christian back violently, adjusting his shirt that had twisted around his body in the scuffle. All eyes are on them as he steps slowly up to Justin, his chin tipping up defiantly as Justin stands at his full height, nearly a head taller than his best friend. Justin’s jaw is locked, blue eyes hard as steel and even though he’s tensed, ready for a fight he doesn’t want this, wishes he could take it all back. A pang of sadness buries itself in his chest at the disgust on his best friend’s face as he shakes his head at him.

“You know this was supposed to be a fun night,” Trace says, his head still moving back and forth sadly. “Me and you, and yeah your new fuckin friends but mostly me and you. We’ve talked about this, our bachelor parties,” he lets out a soft laugh completely devoid of humor, “since we were old enough to understand it. And now…” he lets out a sad sigh, a look of stunned disbelief on his face. “Now I don’t even know who the fuck you are.”

He shakes his head sadly, his body nudging Justin’s as he stumbles his way to the edge of the crowd, pushing his way through until he disappears and Justin doesn’t watch him go, just looks at the broken glass littering the floor, the over turned chairs and table. Just another mess he’s made.

An arm wraps around his neck and he jumps looking over to find Sasha surveying the damage, his light eyes hazy as he shakes his head. “Forget him, man.” Sasha shoves a glass of amber liquid into his hand, the ice clinking against the side and the smell of Scotch burns Justin’s nose.

Sasha’s hand bangs against Justin’s back roughly before turning away and Justin is alone, watching the party get going again, the girls dancing, their bodies rolling as the lights along their naked flesh and the men slip twenties in their g-strings, fingers slipping in to cop a feel. The crowd cheers as Patrick’s lapdance gets raunchier, adding another girl to the mix and chaos reigns, sadness and confusion settling in his heart. He does the only thing he can. He throws back his drink and vows not to think about it anymore.