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They meet in a 24-hour pizza joint that makes their crust thick and dripping with grease. There are four seats by the window that are empty; he sits beside Jamie and his friends and says, "Hi, I'm Tyler. Can you tell me where the party's at?"
Jamie doesn't party – that isn't to say he doesn’t know where the party is, but he doesn't like going out at all. He usually stops by to say hello, and if he's not looking for a one night stand, he'd rather go home and curl up in bed with a movie.
That night, he goes to the liquor store with Tyler and points out the cheapest beer – Lucky lager – and takes him the long way, through the city centre and along the harbour, to the party. "You aren't from around here, are you?" Jamie asks, but he knows. Victoria's a small place; he'd remember a face like Tyler's.
"I'm just passing through," Tyler says.
Jamie drinks seven beers and takes Tyler home; he gives Tyler his bed, and passes out on the couch. When he wakes up, the whiteboard in his kitchen says "Thank you" and Tyler is gone.