Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Our unofficial gay-bar guides effortlessly navigated us through the crowd, to the main bar, where we ordered a round of drinks. I searched around the space, taking it all in as I found myself hardly able to move an inch without rubbing shoulders with one stranger or another. This was definitely a different experience than our little queer nights at the Barn.
“Isaac? What the hell are you doing here?” a voice came from nearby. Isaac turned and caught the gaze of a tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed guy in a white arm sling who was filling out a polo nicely.
“What the hell am I doing here? What the hell did you do to your arm?” Isaac asked him.
“Superass and I were hiking in Peru, and I had a bit of a tumble.”
“Is someone talking about my ass again?” a guy with his elbows on the bar asked, turning around. Through a set of glasses, he eyed the guy who’d approached Isaac, a lovestruck expression on his face, which was quickly reciprocated by the man, who seemed to be his partner—my suspicions confirmed by the matching bands on their ring fingers.
“This is Trav and his partner, Gary,” Isaac told me. “Met these guys on a skiing trip. Travis has one of the best massage clinics in town.”
“The best, according to Creative Loafing, thank you very much.”
“If I remember correctly, Creative Loafing circa 2018,” Isaac added, his expression playful as ever.
“Well, at least someone’s paying attention to my Facebook feed,” Travis joked, and then they caught up a bit.
As Isaac’s friends welcomed Walker, Cohen, and me into the fold, catching us up on their Peruvian adventures, they ignited a mix of eagerness and envy. I’d always wanted to see Machu Picchu, and I was pleased at how willing they were to share their explorations so we could live vicariously through their real-world adventure. On top of their stories, I had to admit, it was nice seeing Cohen in his element, relaxed and enjoying himself.
Although, something about it was unsettling too. My instincts had me believe he belonged in Buckridge, but was that wishful thinking?
I dismissed the thought as much as I could, drinking some more of the vodka Sprite Cohen had ordered for me—since they didn’t have any O’Ralley brand whiskey, and I sure as fuck wasn’t betraying my family name any more than I already was by being out with a Mitchell.
“Come on,” Gary piped up. “The drag show’s about to start.”
“A drag show?” Walker asked, his eyes growing wider than I’d seen them in a long time, a grin stretching across his ridiculous face.
Isaac hooked his arm around Walker and said, “Come on, my little virgin man. I got a lot to educate you on.”
Travis guided us to a set of stairs leading to the downstairs part of the bar, navigating us to where a crowd gathered around the host, clasping their dollar tips in preparation for the show.
“Hope you got a lot of ones,” Cohen said as Isaac pulled us closer to the stage.
It was a wild production, filled with songs by Diana Ross, Whitney, Lady Gaga, and some artists I didn’t recognize (and definitely hadn’t expected to), but I could tell by the way everyone else was singing along, Cohen and Isaac included, that they were more than familiar with the tunes. Cohen turned to me at one point, and I must’ve been wearing a similar expression as Walker, since he noted, “Oh, didn’t even do this at the gay bar you went to? Pfft. Amateur.” He winked, his smile broadening.
I wasn’t sure if it was the drink, or the liveliness of the cheering bar patrons, or just that damn pretty mug of his again, but I went right in and took a kiss. I didn’t give any more shits than I had that night at the Barn. And Cohen didn’t give me any reason to think that mouth wasn’t mine just then as he moved in closer.
Another song came on, turning our attention back to the show. When the performances came to an end, the lights dimmed, and the wall-mounted TV screens started playing music videos, the crowd filling the space that had been used for the drag show, turning it into a dance floor.
Cohen took my hand and guided me into the crowd, while Isaac, Travis, and Gary swarmed around Walker, helping him cut loose a bit.
“God, my brother’s gonna think he was in an orgy tonight,” I joked as we settled into an open space. Nearly as soon, Isaac started grinding up on my bro, making him blush.
“He’s not the only one having a good time,” Cohen said, smiling brightly as we found our way into the beat.
“It’s aight.”
“Tell me this is not better than when you came out here with whom I can only assume were your straight college buddies.”