Music loudly echoed through the woods and could be heard all the way from the dining hall when Mitch stepped out of the cabin. Spotting the soft glow of various colored lights from a distance, he used those as a guide while he wandered towards the building through the dark. Less than several feet into the trek, he started cursing about wearing heels on soft ground and the flimsy fabric which did nothing to protect against the cold. He also wondered who ended up getting the bid to be the party’s DJ, since there were at least 4 people that he could think of off of the top of his head that did it as a side hustle.

“Hey little girl,” came a try-hard husky voice from nearby that Mitch recognized. “You lost?”

“Ha ha,” Mitch deadpanned and squinted, making out Nate’s form. “Dude, I should’ve brought normal shoes and changed when I got there. I can’t run in heels, never developed that skill.”

“Want a lift?” offered Nate, already crouched down in front of Mitch before being given an answer.

“Fuck it,” laughed Mitch. “Yes, please.” He approached Nate’s back and grabbed onto his shoulders, then went pliant as arms hooked under his legs. Upon closer inspection, he could see that Nate had some kind of disheveled wig and sideburns on, then spotted the pointed ears poking out from underneath then. He huffed in disbelief. “Wait are- are you a werewolf?”

“Teen Wolf. The Michael J. Fox version, not the show. Hence the letterman jacket?” Nate stood up straight again, and craned his neck enough to see Mitch from the corner of his eye. “In hindsight, I realize how funny of a coincidence this is.”

“Oh, is it a coincidence?” teased Mitch.

“You’re right, you caught me. My elaborate scheme was to workshop the idea that we do the couple thing next year. You be Little Red Riding Hood, and I’ll be the Big Bad Wolf?”

“It’s adorable that you think Jodie would let me be anyone else’s girl,” Mitch snorted.

“Worth a shot,” was all Nate said as he walked forward. Relaxing against wide expanse his back, Mitch swore that the dense silence which fell over them was supposed to be awkward, but he didn’t have the bandwidth to dissect it. Instead, he focused on only absorbing as much of Nate’s body heat that bled through the jacket.

Maybe someday, whatever this wack energy was, would be clarified once and for all. If Nate could be anything beyond a potential hookup in the future, Mitch had no idea, but he could be swayed. He committed himself in the past for less, and after the many free rugelach pastries that Nate supplied him from his family’s bakery, Mitch knew that he should probably put out at some point.

The walk to the dining hall took no time thanks to Nate’s freakishly long legs, and once they reached the doorway, Mitch slid off Nate’s back and landed on his feet. “Thanks for the ride,” he quietly remarked, and Nate broke out into a smile.

“Yeah, of course,” Nate responded, voice distant as though it’d been thrown from a summit of a mountain made up of layers of things that went unsaid. It’d always been like that. The urge to speak up rose like the tide; to suggest that they not go in at all and take off, see what trouble they could get into. But Mitch said nothing and continued to not breach the tension, because then the thrill of it all would vanish. Besides, Nate had three years now to make his move, or at least throw out feelers, and Mitch considered himself done with pursuing anyone for the immediate future. So, no dice.

“Well,” he broke the silence, “I’m heading inside. Thanks for the ride.” The insinuation hung heavy, but he didn’t care.

“You’re welcome,” Nate eventually responded after some bottom lip worrying. “You uh,” he started once MItch’s back was turned to him. “You look great, by the way.”

Mitch turned his head enough to look behind, flashed a grin and replied with, “Yeah, I know.” If that was supposed to be the pickup line, it wasn’t enough. Nate’s smile had gone from playful to small and unsure, clearly processing that his comment wasn’t quite a slam dunk. But before anything else could be said, a retcon or further elaboration or any other method to smooth it over, Mitch slipped away.