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“Europe.”
See? Permafrost.
“Alriggghty then.” Declan clapped his hands. “Andrew, let’s go get a drink. Anyone want anything?”
I lifted my beer, still untouched. Beckham did the same. Declan and Andrew left, and Rocky took no time at all to leave behind them, going back to his post against the wall.
“Thank you for this, Olly. Really.”
“It’s the least I can do, Beck.”
“The least? Then what’s the most?”
I winked at him. “You’ll get to see that later.”
He laughed, pulling me in for a kiss. It felt electric. My blood thrummed with Beckham’s name, my heart singing his song, my pulse dancing to his beat. He was my one, and I would do anything for him.
When we separated, I looked out to the crowd.
Everyone was there, and everyone looked sooo good. When I'd organized this, I’d half expected everyone to, well, to half-ass it. I thought an adult prom would be hard to sell. I thought maybe Andrew, Jonah would show up to support but that would be it.
Instead, the Stonewall courtyard was packed. All the detectives from the Miami branch were there, and they had brought dates. Andrew looked like a million bucks in a classy navy suit with a light-pink pocket square sticking out, matching the light-pink shirt Declan wore.
Jonah and Fox were both hanging out by the snack table, chatting and laughing about some inside joke. Holly and her partner, Triss, were hanging out with Shiro and his new boyfriend, while Penny and her wife played a game of Jenga with Maleek and his wife, Danica.
It filled my heart with an overwhelming sense of peace. This was all how things were supposed to unravel. As scary as life had gotten, there really had been a light at the end of the all the trauma.
The light shone bright every time I looked into Beckham’s eyes. “Let’s dance,” I said.
“Oh no. No, I’m okay.”
I cocked my head, smiling. “Just one dance.”
Beckham never put up a fight with me. “All right, one dance.” He held my hand as we weaved through the crowd, heading toward the empty dance floor. The second we stepped onto the floor, the DJ switched up the song from a Nicki Minaj hit to a slow-dance tune, the energy perceptibly shifting toward us.
Beckham looked at me, terror in his eyes. I grabbed his hands, confidence in my steps, and I started to dance, slowly. I could tell he was nervous at first, all his movements stiffer than a robot cosplaying as a human. He started to loosen up, though, his gaze honing in on me, the rest of Stonewall disappearing.
We danced soft circles around the floor, our bodies pressed together, one of my hands on his shoulder, the other in his hand.
He twirled me, surprising even himself when I was pulled back in. I giggled into his chest, smelling his sweet scent, a mixture of woodsy cologne and musky man. Intoxicating.
The music slowed and the dance slowed with it. When it was all over, I looked around to realize that a crowd had formed to watch us.
And they all started to clap. I blushed, waving it all off. Beckham looked slightly mortified but also wore a grin that stretched from ear to ear.
A loud voice cut through the speakers. “Wow, thank you for that beautiful recreation of Beauty and the Silver-Haired Daddy. Disney would be so proud of you two queers. Only if it’s pride month though, so be considerate of the corporations please.”
We all looked to the DJ booth, a mixture of shock turning into a chorus of laughter.
“Yes, bitches, it’s me, Dee Klein, your fabulous and occasionally alcoholic drag queen host for tonight’s Prom-tivities. I was just sucking off the DJ for the past hour and a half, so sorry if I’m a little late. Well, technically I was here. I came, all right! Jeez.” Dee Klein moved around the booth, pointing over her shoulder at the blushing DJ. “And so did he.” She rubbed the corner of her painted bright blue lip, all of us cracking up.
I couldn’t be happier with how the night was playing out. And it wasn’t even just this night, but the past couple of months, too. Everything felt almost too good to be true, like it couldn’t possibly be real. Like I’d wake up any second and be back to square one, back to before I even went to London, before I’d met Beckham.
Except it was all true. Every single part of it: the good and the bad. The slow dances and the drag queens. The friends and the family.
The unbreakable love that connected us.
None of it was a lie.
* * *
BECKHAM
God, I couldn’t fucking wait to get Oliver back home behind closed doors.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d had one of the funnest nights of my entire life after the surprise prom he had organized at Stonewall. It was one of the sweetest gestures and totally Oliver, reflecting how big his heart was and how genuine of a soul he had. The music still thumped in my head, and the drag queen had me in stitches by the end of the night. She even performed a couple of numbers that had her dropping to the floor like a rag doll and then picking herself back up again and jumping straight into her dance routine, not missing a single word to the song that played.
