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Victor
I stumble into the alley behind the convention center, gulping in humid night air that smells of garbage. Holding the door open with my hip, I crouch on the concrete and put my head between my knees.
The room was packed with people—next to me, behind me, constantly moving and churning like a dark ocean.Hecould be there. Security would have let him in, no problem. I’m deep in one of my nightmares, absolutely certain that I’ll turn around and find him right behind me, except this time I can’t wake up and crawl into tight, locked places where I feel safe. So I set my untouched champagne on a table and took off down a random hallway, weaving through silent, high-ceilinged spaces until I found an escape route.
I lift my head and rub my eyes, studying the backs of the buildings around me. The one directly across saysCosmos Clubin tattered, blue letters. Clubs are built for disappearing.
The back entrance leads me down a long, grimy passage that opens onto the dance floor, if it could be called that. The place is almost empty, and I can see why as I take in the faded furniture and dated mood lighting. A couple of dancers, one girl, one guy, gyrate to music people listened to when I was twelve.
The bartender’s eyes widen when he sees me. He turns around and stares at the news broadcast playing on the TV behind him, showing the front of the building next door. He looks back at me like,hallucination, explain yourself.
I chuck a wad of cash on the bar and put my finger to my lips. Studying the back wall, I point to the tall, smoked-glass vodka bottles. “Get me a new one of those, the whole thing.”
Carrying my prize to a booth in the corner, I gulp down a generous sample, flinching at the burn. I stretch my arms out on the table, which is sticky and smells of Lysol, and rest my face in them. Time starts to warp and slip, disappearing in chunks when I close my eyes. I didn’t sleep at all last night.
“Found you.”
I squint up at Ethan’s sullen expression, his crossed arms. “Good job.”
“They didn’t notice you’re gone yet.” When I don’t move, he shifts impatiently.
I pretend to stand up, then grab his arm and pull him into the seat next to me. “I’ve always believed money tastes so much sweeter when you have to earn it.”
He snorts. “You haven’t earned a penny in your life.”
I take another mouthful of vodka and slide it over to him. “Got me.” He examines the bottle for a minute, then wipes off the rim and takes such a dainty sip I burst out laughing.
“You’re drunk already.”
“Not really,” I wheeze, wiping my eyes. “You’re just so fucking funny.” The music switches to a song I remember, and I hum it out of tune, tapping the side of the bottle. Ethan studies the dancers. The girl has her tits hanging out, but he only has eyes for the guy, shirtless and sweaty. I prop my chin on my hand and watch him until he feels my eyes.
“What?”
“So youarea homo.”
“I never said I wasn’t.”
I’m so tired and hungry. Groaning, I lie on my back on the bench seat and prop my feet in his lap, hanging an arm over my eyes. I smile against my elbow as I feel him squirm out from under me, perching at the very end of the bench. “So you’re a virgin.”
“No.”
“How many?”
“One.”
“So you’re a virgin.”
When he stands up, I stretch out to occupy the whole bench. “Can we go?” he complains.
“Be my guest.”
“I can’t leave you here.”
“I believe in you.”
The table creaks and when I look up he’s sitting on the edge of it, looking down at me with miserable, stubborn eyes. “I’ll wait here until you’re ready.”
I prop my head up so I can drink. “Let me guess. Your one partner broke your heart and filled you with internalized homophobia that has crippled your ability to love yourself, but someday you’ll meet a manic pixie dream twink who will teach you to smile again and help you rise from the ashes.”
