It figures that the one person to catch his notice in Boston would be Jack Zimmermann’s fucking boyfriend. “So, uh,” Kent stutters, all of his charm wiped away by this bullshit turn of events. “You probably think I’m the world’s biggest asshole, don’t you.” Bitty takes a sip of his beer and shrugs. “You’re up there.”

There are reasons he doesn't usually come down for the parties: people, mostly, and alcohol. But there's a reason he has, this time, and that reason made four dozen cookies earlier and is currently pressed up against his side.