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I fell back on my ass and took a seated bow. Elijah, laughing, came over and helped me get up onto my feet.
“That was impressive,” he said, dollar bills littering his floor, some of them having found their way into my dress. “You sure this is your first time in drag?”
“Yeah, unless I’ve been doing drag in my sleep.” I smiled wide and did a little curtsy. “But thank you.”
Elijah looked up into my eyes, something glittering in his. “And you still look stunning, too. Your wig stayed on and everything. You’re a professional drag queen.”
“Thanks to my professional drag mom,” I said. “So can you promise me now that you’re never going to quit drag? Not when you have the power to perform and to create this.” I framed my face as if I were in a Madonna music video.
Elijah crossed his arms, eyebrows stitching together. “Is that what this was about?”
I shrugged and answered with an innocent smile. I batted my eyelashes a couple of times to enhance the effect.
He rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t go anywhere. “You’re ridiculous. Like legitimately ridiculous…”
“Is that a—”
“It’s an ‘I don’t know.’” His tone was clipped, sending me a message louder than his words. I didn’t want to ruin the magical night by stepping on his toes. It was a bad habit of mine, to expect and push people around me to change. I never did it out of malice, but after running up against a few brick walls, I had to realize that many people didn’t want—or simply couldn’t—ever change, themselves or their minds.
His face softened, as though he realized he had nipped at me. “But I’m leaning toward not quitting. I can’t have you upstaging me with your stunning looks and mediocre dance moves.”
“Okay, I’ll take that,” I said, a cool flush of relief flowing through me. The last thing I wanted to do was get Elijah annoyed, to make that hard-to-earn smile of his disappear. I titled my head and ran a hand down the back of my wig. “So you think I’m that hot, huh?”
“Unbelievably so. We’re going to need about a dozen mops after your shows to clean up when you make everyone orgasm.”
I laughed but held it together. “What’s your secret, then? You seem to be holding it together pretty well.”
“Oh, I’m not. I’ve come about ten times since you started your show.” He said it in such a deadpan way, I couldn’t help but lose it, the laughter surprising me as much as his joke had. Elijah joined in, the comfort level between us reaching new heights, something like an invisible link solidifying between us with every gut-busting laugh.
Finally, tears streaming down my cheeks, I was able to pull it together.
“Oh no,” Elijah said, face pink from laughter. “Your eyeliner’s running.”
“That’s fine.” I waved it off. “It’s worth it. I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in years.”
“Same.” Elijah rubbed his eyes dry. We were still standing in his living room, at the center of the makeshift stage he had created, although we could have been on an actual stage in front of actual audience members and I still would have found myself getting lost in Elijah’s emerald-green gaze. He had this way of instantaneously drawing you in, wrapping you around his finger with a quick look. I didn’t even think he did it on purpose; it was just him, Elijah’s superpower.
“How good’s this lipstick at staying on?” I asked, a teasing note in my voice. He looked so fucking good in this lighting. Hell, Elijah looked good in any light, but the way his skin glowed right now made it all seem like a dream.
One I didn’t want to wake up from.
“Pretty good. Lasts me an entire night… why?” Elijah, either subconsciously or very consciously, licked his lips as he finished his question. The gleam on them made me even more mesmerized by the man standing in front of me.
“Just wondering,” I said, stepping a little closer, entering into his orbit. Elijah didn’t move back. Didn’t tense. He matched my gaze, held it. Inside my chest, my heart was doing flips and death drops and spins, giving a full drag performance of its own. In this moment, everything felt right. It didn’t matter that I wore electric-blue lipstick or a flowery pastel dress or that black streaks likely colored my cheeks.
None of it mattered. The only thing that did: Elijah’s lips on mine.
I went in for the kiss, Elijah taking in a breath of surprise before melting against me, his soft lips meeting mine for the first time. Bliss filled me, the kiss lifting me, doing more than any kiss had ever done before. My hands went to his hips, his coming to mine, and our lips fitting together perfectly. It was a soft kiss, gentle and exploratory and un-fucking-forgettable. He tasted like strawberries and clouds and champagne from the topmost shelf. He tasted like everything I’d ever craved and anything I’d ever want to crave.
