Of course Spike would get distracted. One fan turned into two which turned into three and four. He had to apologize to the growing group, surprisingly more geeks than he expected to be at the airport this evening. He blamed the movie that now made his comic series mainstream and there were more to come! It was cool and all that his series was going to be the next X-Men or something but it didn’t change that this was not the type to get stuck.

Once he was in his Uber, luggage just tossed in, Spike pleaded for the driver to go as fast as he can, obviously within the law, because he was going to be late. As the driver stepped on it, Spike started texting all his friends one by one, not thinking it probably would’ve been easier to send a group chat.

He ‘omw’ texted on my way again, again, and again. Was he frazzled? A little bit. He was on an adrenaline high not only because he was praised at the airport but because he felt the nerves rush through his veins. He was really doing this. He was going to see his class and hear how much they’ve achieved, how much they’ve grown, how much life they still had to look forward to.

The butterflies weren't anything bad. It felt like at least for one weekend he could pretend that he didn’t grow up, that no time had passed, and that he could relive the best years of his life. Sure, he was in a much better place mentally, emotionally, and hell, even physically, but there was less on his mind. High School was simpler. He lived in the moment and every little incident that transpired became part of their small world. Such trivial things, now that he looked back, but weighed so heavily on them.

The real world was a larger stage and life was unpredictable. High school, though? It was just about him, her, and us. They were young and they had fun. If only he could tell his younger self to just enjoy it, that it was happening. Life was happening and it was so easy because none of them knew as much as they know now.

He was excited. Giddy even to say hello again.

---

Speed walking down the hallway of the hotel, with his card key in hand, Spike hurriedly searched for his room. The time was 8:05 PM. He was five minutes late. Not too bad for how close he was cutting it. His suitcase rolled behind him, with a duffel on top of it, as he scanned the doors. Glancing at his watch, Spike could feel his anxiety reach his throat. This weekend was going to be great. A good getaway from the everyday hustle.

Coming from the opposite direction of him was, if he did admit it to himself, one fly, not-so-scrawny-anymore, smooth-talking (when he wasn’t in his head), photo-taking (but not on this night), son of a gun named Nathan Blake. In the hour he had to spare, the photographer didn’t bother with organizing his luggage. He could always try and do that tonight if he got back to his room early enough. If not, then it didn’t matter since he was only going to be here for a few days, anyway.

After Nate had showered as quickly as he could so he could pick out an outfit that both showed that he hasn’t changed, but also might speak to his growth, he went with a bit of a middleground. He had a refined fashion sense nowadays, but the goofy sensibility he was known for ten years ago remained. With a white, long-sleeve shirt and black suspenders, Nate came out rushing out of his room with a dark blue blazer thrown over it and, of course, he had jeans and some black dress shoes. All in all, he was looking pretty good. And he made sure to be conservative with his Armani cologne (he used to be very generous with it).

He walked in a groove that was unique to him. His arms moved along to a rhythm inside Nate’s head, which if he was being honest, was that song from Tik Tok called Astronaut in the Ocean. He couldn’t get it out of his head and he was muttering the lyrics and just rocking to the beat he memorized. In the middle of it all, he wasn’t paying attention and almost bumped into someone who was walking opposite of him. His reflexes allowed him to stop the collision, but it couldn’t stop what happened next.

“SPIIIIKEEEE!” Nate abandoned all hope and entered a tight embrace with his brother from anotha mother! Heat of the moment was to blame for Nate not clearly realizing the obvious and he blinked a few times after releasing his artistically-talented brother from the impromptu hug. When he realized, he blinked a few more times. “Wait wait wait!” Nate’s arms embodied Peter Griffin as his blue eyes glanced at the suitcase and duffle bag. “Are you just now getting here, bro?!” Nate asked, looking to Spike, then to his luggage, then back to Spike, and, unlike the old Old Spice commercial, Nate wasn’t sure what he saw.

“Shit yeah, dude. Is it me or is it fucking hot?” Acknowledging his best friend but still speed walking to his room, Spike passed his next door neighbor’s door, smelling an oh-so-familiar scent. That floral, woody musk. Top notes of raspberry, mandarin orange, and bergamot; middle notes of rose de mai, jasmine, and lily-of-the-valley; base notes, vanilla, cashmeran, and white musk. Shit. Did he actually remember what was on the bottle verbatim? Briefly, he stopped in his tracks and glanced at the door.

What were the chances, like really?

Only to confirm his thoughts, he could hear his first love screaming her heart out. The song she was singing was Floorfiller by A*Teens. For a moment, he stood there in complete shock.

Wait, wait, wait.

He should’ve been prepared for this. He knew she was going to be there. He knew they’d see each other. Did he expect her to be right next to him? No, absolutely not. Still! He could handle this. He got this. He was the Spike-meister! Shaking his head, he went back on his mission.

After unlocking his door, he threw his bags in with reckless abandon. Once his luggage was in, he threw his coat off and tossed it in too. Pocketing his key card, Spike turned on his heel to look at Nate, who was still dumbfoundedly staring at him. Loosening his cuffs and unbuttoning some of his shirt, for a more summer, casual look, Spike grinned at his partner-in-crime, “Hey, I must not be THAT late if you’re still fucking around, ey?”

For a brief moment that didn’t feel that brief, Nate watched Spike operate only in a way that he knew his best bro knew how to. Without any wasted motions, he went to his room, threw his luggage and coat into the room, seemingly not caring where it landed. And as he did watch him, Nate couldn’t help but think to himself how much…he really hasn’t changed in that aspect. Always one to make the most out of any situation, especially when he was in a pinch and doing it with a certain style that made him the perfect partner-in-crime for Nate when Mandy was otherwise preoccupied (or in this case in a whole different part of the country).

“And what? You expected me to miss the Spike-meister in his luggage-tossing prime?” Nate the Great Blake made a ‘pfft’ kind of noise as the grin that Spike flashed at him was a two-way street. “But let’s jet, my man! Babes and booze await our fashionably late arrival. Not to mention, I’m dying to see Maxx. Feels like forever since the last time I’ve seen him!” Nate absentmindedly commented, walking down the hall with Spike towards the elevator, almost tugging him along by the arm (but in a gentle, non-rushing way), not at all factoring in that it really wasn’t that long ago since he’s seen one of the most fashionable people he knew (present company excluded).

“Yeah let’s do this. I might be a bit sober for this but we totally got this. Exes and all.” Following Nate’s lead, Spike found himself going with the motions hoping for the best. When they entered the elevator, he asked, “So, uh, is there anyone you want to see? Besides me. I know you can’t take your eyes off me.”

“Uh..sure..” As the doors closed, Nate purposely delayed answering Spike’s question as he hit the top floor button. A few moments later and another to sit on it (so to speak), Nate met his best male friend in the eyes. “Yeah, I mean it’ll be dope to see everyone again and see where most of them are at in life.” Part of him didn’t want to say it because he promised Mandy he wouldn’t let the thought of Jasper get him down. “You know, just see some of the peeps we haven’t seen in a long ass time. That’d be great!”

“Hey, and maybe we’ll get laid like good ol’ times. Let’s forget the past, Nate. Right here, right now, let’s make an oath. This weekend we’ll be young again. Whaddya say?!” Spike offered his hand for Nate to grab, and spoke in a manner that was more like his high school self. If there was one thing Nate saw over the years it was how much Spike matured. How grounded he became. Less hyperactive and excitable. Still an upbeat guy, but Spike certainly chilled out a bit. “I say the moment we hit the roof, we take some shots.”

That same grin from before found its way back onto Nate’s face as Spike both tried and succeeded to lift his momentary sadness up, and throw it out the nearest window. Nate’s sadness wasn’t as obvious, but it did sap away his ability to form smiles, but no matter how much was taken away, Spike always knew when was the time to dig and help to get to the root of the problem and when to build him up. Nate always returned the favor. It was the great balance their friendship has always had and why it remained to be one of Nate’s most cherished bonds, familial or not.

As he took the blond’s hand, he squeezed it and laughed with a cheery disposition that meant he agreed about everything he said. “Hell yeah man!” He delightfully exclaimed. He no longer was thinking about his ex or any bad thing that might rob him of enjoying this night with the boys. “And one thing I will say is I have missed the top shelf and I can’t wait to drink a thousand dollar’s worth of whatever top shelf booze they have at the bar and not have to pay a single thing.” They can thank their class of 2012 president for that one.

“I don’t get that craving since I’ll always be partial to screwdrivers. Reminds me of my Paw-Paw. Man, miss that fucker.” After cracking his knuckles and his neck, Spike started hopping on the elevator, causing it to bounce. Loosening himself up, doing a little shimmy, trying to be the best version of his old self, he gave himself an internal pep talk. Fuck drama. Fuck the past. Live in the moment. Get lost in the tunes. And the vibes. Yeah, it’s all about the vibes. When he was done, he looked at his best friend, throwing his arm around him, “It’s go time!” On that note, the elevator door opened.

As the party duo exited the elevator, the music was so loud, the cheers of their classmates so loud, even before they walked out to the rooftop, Nate heard them. “Damn the party is really banging.” Nate’s comment was followed by chuckle as they left the bleak feelings, the regrets of a time’s past, and embraced one of many moments that was sure to be made better by the totally awesome, cooler Bill and Ted duo of Nate the Great and the Spike-meister.

Their first stop, of course, as Spike stated it himself, was the bar. “A line of shots, if you will!” Nate tapped the countertop to whatever beat he heard. He didn’t recognize the song, but it had him feeling almost as good as Spike looked.

“Of course sir. And what would you like?

“Screwdrivers! But in shots form!!” He gave the attractive bartender a wide smile. Moments later, there were two shots for each of them lined up in a straight row. He didn’t know if Spike was going to reach for them, but before he did, Nate intervened. “Wait, wait, wait! Before we do, since this was your idea, it’s only fair that I get to decide what we drink to. Aside from being the best looking mofos here _{our female classmates excluded}, we should toast to us and this being a good night with laughs and, like you said, potential one-way tickets to Pound Town!” Yup, even after ten years, Nate still had his colorful wit.

“Damn straight. Straight to pound town!” Spike reached for his shot. Before saying cheers and shooting it in his throat, he responded, “Wait, wait, wait! If you get to do the toast, I get to do the bet. It ain’t a Spike & Nate night without a bet. Or dare. Or whatever. But I want there to be stakes so make it a bet. We have to get laid tonight. If one of us doesn’t… we have to streak around the whole resort, first thing in the morning. If we both get laid, fuck yeah, then we treat the other to a date. That’s only fair. And if we both lose, well, we both gonna’ be naked up in this piece.” Accomplished at his words, Spike started bringing his shot glass to his lips--

“Wait, wait, wait!” Nate exclaimed, putting his hand up, stopping Spike from taking a sip. “I mean, yeah, I obviously love that bet. All of your bets are classic, bro! But why not do a dare tonight? The night’s young totally like us and people here need to know the boys are back in town--” Nate realized, technically they aren’t since they were so far removed from Palm Beach, “--well, so to speak.” He laughed and enjoyed it for a few seconds and went back to it. “So whatadda say, man? A classic Darepolooza like old times! You in?” He picked up one of his shot glasses, raising it near Spikes, giving him almost pleading emoji eyes.

Chuckling, Spike smirked at the endless possibilities of how the night would turn out. “You know it.” And with that, the bold, audacious, kind of crazy duo whipped their heads and drank their shots. Slamming his glass on the bar, Spike roared, “ANOTHER!” and as if the bartender read the two idiots, there were two new shot glasses in front of them. “Rock, paper, scissors to see who dares who first.”

“That makes sense. Vintage for vintage game.” Nate chuckled and grinned. As he balled his fist and held it in front of him, there was a shift in his demeanor. Casual, party Nate was replaced with the same exact Nate, but he had his game face on. “You are so on! And when I win, you are soooooooo going to hate meeee!”

Rolling his eyes, Spike had been in game mode the moment he challenged his friend. Without saying a word, he began to motion his own fists.

Rock...

Spike narrowed his eyes, mentally telling Nate it was on like Donkey Kong. Preparing to pick his option, while starting the count - his fist hit his palm.

Paper.

Nate jerked his fist down into his hand, keeping a stern, focused gaze on his best friend. “You’re going down, Langley.”

Scissors.

Sparks and electricity could be seen metaphorically between the two best friends… if this were an anime. There was no way Spike would lose. He was the Spike Meister! The only one who could face Nate the Great in a chaotic, dubstep atmosphere. “I’ll spank you like I spanked your mother.”

SHOE!

Using shock to his advantage, Spike threw down the opposite of Nate’s ‘go-to’ starter. Breaking his concentration was key in games like these. “Scissors, muthafucker!”

“You sneaky sonofa--” Nate cursed and cursed, then laughed until his sides hurt. “You know me all too well.” He couldn’t be mad that he lost to such a worthy adversary. He was only disappointed in himself for sticking too close to his guns. Somewhere in him he should have figured Spike would go for the opposite way. Maybe he was blinded by a hype and familiar overconfidence whenever he got into Nate the Great mode.

But a deal was a deal. “Alright, champion of RPS. Lay it on me! What’s your dare for yours truly?”

“Solo boy band style. By the pool. Have the DJ play some Backstreet boys or some shit. Do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight! Let's see if you can reenact your prom-posal.” After the dare was laid out on the table, Spike lifted his shot glass, “You in or are you chicken-shit?”

Ah yes, the promposal that was easily the single greatest thing that Nate ever done and it was followed up by the single worst moment in his life. He literally sat on it, thinking about what this might do to him and what it might do for him. He hasn’t done a dance routine or anything like that (at least not at that level) since that night at prom, but theoretically, he still had it in him.

With a sigh (a deep one, at that), Nate took his shot glass in hand, clinked it with Spikes, and down that sucker in all of its sweet, tangy glory. “You son of a bitch, I’m in!” He snapped his right index finger and thumb and got off his seat. He bumped fists with Spike, internally questioning whether he still had the moves. Or maybe it was who might be out there watching that was getting his heart pumping. Whatever it was, showtime waited for no person!