Nothing about that felt good to Luka. “I don’t know how you handle that.” Didn’t it drive her insane?
“It’s better I do it than him. You didn’t see it when he had his first few incidents after the breakup. His ex really came after him, slandering him online, defamation, harassment, stalking them; it wasnasty. I couldn’t just sit by while it happened. Kandi and I had to work overtime to get things removed and place protections so she’d stop. I don’t think the cunt ever forgave Reno for leaving when she told them to. Jealous bitch.”
“That sounds horrifying.” Luka was grateful that, for as bad as his own exes had been, at least when they broke up, they’d left Luka alone. “No wonder you drilled me the other night.”
“Yup.” Sage gave him a smile that looked almost villainous. “I personally got the evil cunt to back down. Don’t hurt him. I’ll come after you, too. I’ll ruin your fucking life. You want a pastry to go?”
“Yeah.” Luka reeled from the easy switch in Sage’s demeanor as she offered him food. “But, if we don’t work out, just know I’ll leave him alone. I’m not the kind of person to tell someone’s secrets. I’ll disappear and none of you will have to worry about me ever again.”
Sage hummed thoughtfully. “Pain au chocolat?7?”
“Oui, merci?8," Luka replied, and Sage looked thrilled.
“I see why Reno likes you so much. You catch on fast.” She put the pastry in the bag and handed it over. “Go enjoy the day, the weather is good. Oh, give me your number too.”
Luka handed his phone over and let Sage enter her number into WhatsApp. He took it back and grabbed his coffee from thecounter before saying bye, with a promise to text her if he got bored when Reno was at work.
Peering at the sidewalkwhere the paparazzi had been, Luka steadied himself before leaving the safety of indoors and facing the world outside. He pulled his hood over his head, decided that it didn’t matter what was posted of him online, and went back to his rental flat to work on art for a while.
The line to get into the club in the heart of SoHo was not very long, and Luka was thankful to be inside and surrounded by people faster than he expected. The club on Compton Street was crowded—not to the point of not being able to move from one wall to the other, but still just packed enough that Luka had to squeeze himself between people to get a spot on the dance floor.
The DJ was playing trendy music and the bass thumped through the floor. Luka could only imagine how insane it would get in a few weeks once Pride events started. London was still riding a high, buzzing from the legalization of same-sex marriage in the U.K. only the year before and Luka spotted more rings on fingers than he could ever remember seeing in a room full of queer people.
He made his way off the dance floor and ordered a drink, buzzing with energy. He’d always wanted to go to clubs like this, big with lights flashing over the dance floor and music loud enough to spill out onto the streets. The DJ promised a drag show later, and everyone cheered when they announced a queen’s name. And even though Luka had no idea who they were, he cheered in support, too.
They didn’t have places like this back home.
There were a few bars that had gay nights and events, and one that was full-time gay and was strictly for men. It was frustrating because it was already a fight to be seen as a gay man while living in such a conservative area; Luka never felt like he was welcome in those spaces.
But here, the crowd was mixed with all different kinds of people, and he only leaned against the bar waiting for his drink for a few minutes before a tall man slid up next to him and asked if he wanted anything. When Luka explained he was just there to dance that night, the man looked him up and down but left with no comment other than an obvious wink.
He’d never been hit on by a stranger in a gay club before, especially not a handsome one like that, but before he could process it, another man asked ifhecould buy him a drink. Luka looked at the full drink in his hand and laughed awkwardly, saying he was okay.
A comment on his accent, a compliment for his hair, a brush of hands, and a whisper too close to his neck, and Luka started to realize that he wasdesiredby these men crowding around him, one after another.
Luka kept turning them away, and once he finished his drink, he clapped his hands together, got down from the stool, and said he was going to get back to dancing. He wished them all a good night and slipped through the crowd before anyone could follow.
He laughed to himself, openly and freely, high on the fact that he’d found somewhere he fit in, finally. And, not just fit in, but waswanted.
He wondered if Reno would come with him next time. If Reno’s life allowed him to put on another dress and a wig and kiss Luka on the dance floor in front of everyone. The music changed to something softer and Luka felt himself slow with everyone around him, swaying as the pop artist’s clear voice played over the speakers.
He checked his phone, opened the camera app to take some photos to send to his friends, and found no new texts from Reno. It wasn’t surprising; he knew how focused Reno got when he was writing music.
Making his way to the back of the club, he found the outdoor bar for smokers and got himself a second drink, but when he went to pay for it, the bartender said it had been taken care of by the man in the white hoodie. Luka looked down the bar and the stranger in the hoodie waved at him. Luka waved back, unsure of what to do.
Before Luka could make a choice, the man walked over to him.
“What’s your name?”
“Luka. Thanks for the drink," he replied, still feeling friendly enough to remember his manners. “I have a boyfriend, though.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt himself flush and had to take a drink to recenter himself.
“You’re American?” The man leaned against the bar, crowding into Luka’s space. “I’m sure your boyfriend won’t mind if you pick up a British boyfriend on your vacation.”
“You’re makinga lotof assumptions,” Luka snapped, the friendliness draining away. His voice felt sharper now, matching the annoyance creeping up his back. “I’d back up if I were you.”
He did not budge, instead saying, “I bought you that drink.”
