Kiss Me Like You Never Left

Jude Queens hated going to these things. High school parties had been bad enough, but college parties? They were a whole new type of terrible. The air was thick with mingling scents of sweat, cheap cologne, and spilled alcohol. There was no way to make it to the bathroom, and if you did, it was worse than disgusting—sticky floors, overflowing trash cans, and unmentionable substances on all surfaces. Missing these gatherings was his MO, but they'd just won a game tonight, and Yon and Klaus just would not let him stay home. It was not like he was any fun at them, anyway. He didn't drink, didn't smoke, and did not have any intentions on getting involved with anyone. And yet here he was, holding a red cup of what was probably stale beer. He sniffed it; yeah, beer.

"Can you at least try to look like you aren't in hell right now, Jud? For me?" Yon asked, leaning close to be heard over the pounding bass.

Jude Queens shot him a look that could have withered a houseplant. He shifted his weight, trying to find a patch of floor that wasn't coated in a mysterious, tacky film. "You said I could go home after one drink. That was the deal."

"You haven't even touched it! It’s been an hour, and I haven’t seen you take a single sip. Please, just one," Yon coaxed, gesturing to the red plastic cup Jude was holding like it contained radioactive waste.

Jude sighed, the sound lost in the roar of the party. He hated these things. High school parties had been a chore, but college gatherings were a special brand of misery. The air was a thick soup of sweat, cheap cologne, and the sour tang of spilled beer. He didn't drink, he didn't smoke, and he certainly didn't want to be gyrating against a stranger under a flickering neon light. But they’d won the tournament tonight—his first big win as a freshman on a sports scholarship—and Yon and Klaus had basically dragged him here by his ankles.

He brought the cup to his lips and took a cautious sip. The stale, bitter liquid hit his tongue, and he immediately made a face like he’d swallowed a lemon.

"God, that’s disgusting," Jude gagged.

Yon burst into laughter, nearly spilling his own drink. "Did he actually try it?" Klaus asked, appearing from the crowd with a flushed face and a lopsided grin.

"I did. One sip. Now I’m leaving," Jude announced, turning toward the door.

"Wait, wait! We’re celebrating!" Yon grabbed his arm, his expression turning pleading. "We won, Jud! You won! Don’t you think we’re entitled to one night where you don't act like a grumpy old man?"

Jude rolled his eyes, but he stayed put. He surveyed the room again—the disorienting strobe lights, the people screaming lyrics to a song he didn't know, the heat radiating from too many bodies in too small a space. "I’m happy we won, Yon. I just