The Difference Between Getting and Needing

s e v e n

i'm holding on to things
we said we would c h a n g e . . .

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My dip made it to Dean's apartment in one piece.

We arrived at his door thirty minutes after the start time that was indicated on the Facebook event. There were already a handful of people inside, drinks in hands, and music rumbling between the walls from which I could already tell was a playlist curated by Dean himself. His eccentric taste wasn't one to mistake with anyone else's.

The door swung open to reveal the host himself wearing his work scrubs, a toy stethoscope around his neck, and a bottle of IPA in his hands. His off-kilter grin and squinted eyes gave away that he likely started drinking way before anyone else.

Now, because he tended to work the overnight shift at one of the largest children's hospitals in the country (let alone the city of Philadelphia itself), that meant he didn't get too many free nights. Being Gus' best friend, you'd think they'd see each other a lot more often than they do. Their schedules never seemed to coincide, so whenever Dean managed to have an evening away from caring for the youth of today, he went a little buckwild.

"Happy Halloween, fuckers!"

Gus stepped forward first to hug his friend since his arms were wide open and waiting for an embrace. Laughing, he said, "Really? A nurse, again? How long are you gonna use your work uniform as a sad excuse for a costume?"

"It's easy and comfy. Sue me," Dean sneered, his hand slapping Gus' back before releasing him.

Gus just shook his head with a knowing smile, drifting further into the apartment so he could put down all of the alcohol he was carrying.

Dean's attention went to Collin and Jax as they all swapped handshakes, and then it ended up on me. He looked surprised to see me holding a giant tray of orange-colored dip garnished with chocolate chips and holiday sprinkles, his thick brows knit together and jaw agape. "Bayla, you didn't have to make a dessert! You could've just bought one of those mini cupcake cartons at the store. That would've been fine."

The thought hadn't even crossed my mind. Instead of strangling Dean over how much aggravation I'd had all day because of this damn dip, I swiftly recovered by forcing a pained smile.

"Oh, you know me. Always an overachiever," I joked to hide the fact that I wanted to punch myself in the face.

"It looks great, though!" He said, squishing me in a sideways hug so he wouldn't crush the tray. "You can put it on the table with all the other food. There's no dessert yet so I'm sure everyone'll love it."

"They better. I went through hell for this." I glowered down at the platter in my hands, which made him chuckle, but that also could've been due to how much beer he'd already consumed.

Since my guys I'd come with had all vanished, I sauntered over to said table where the food was set up. There was a small open space towards the end, so I pushed aside a bowl half-full of chips and made room for my tray. As soon I took it out of the bag and unraveled the plastic wrap, I heard someone question what it was. The words "pumpkin spice" were barely out of my mouth before hands were dipping anything they could in it.

I crept away, grateful that I took a photo of my creation earlier since it was ruined now, and made it into the cramped kitchen. The tiny teal room, accented with fake succulents, open shelving, and stylish cookbooks that were likely never opened and only served for decoration, was packed with people in costume.

Behind a couple disguised as pirates, I spotted Gus with a bottle of honey-flavored whiskey in one hand and a shot glass in the other. My bottle of honey whiskey that I bought for the party.