7
JULES
T he cool, crisp April night escorted me to The Rainbow Taproom, Havenwood’s liveliest queer haven. Outside, the earthy scent of recent rain, and the sidewalks shimmered faintly under the streetlights, reflecting the lingering moisture. The temperature hovered at that perfect in-between where a light jacket was enough. I pushed open the door and the hum of conversation mixed with the faint clink of glasses and the lively crackle of laughter joined Robyn’s Dancing on My Own playing over the speakers. Strings of rainbow fairy lights hung in lazy loops across the ceiling, their soft glow bouncing off the colorful artwork that adorned every wall.
Maxie Glam, the queen of Havenwood’s Trivia Nights, adjusted her mic stand on the small stage, rhinestones glittering under the overhead lights. Standing at an impressive ’ 2” in her signature towering heels and enormous wig, she commanded the room with an effortless blend of humor and glamor. Her cascading platinum blonde wig shimmered like spun gold, framing her flawlessly made-up face, dramatic winged eyeliner, glittering eyeshadow that caught every beam of light, and bold, ruby-red lips that curved into a mischievous smile. Her dazzling sequined bodysuit hugged her statuesque figure, complemented by oversized rhinestone necklaces and bracelets that sparkled with every gesture. Maxie was, as always, a force of nature wrapped in confidence, charisma, and just the right amount of chaos.
I spotted Callie immediately at a table near the center of the bustling room, their cocktail already in hand. The drink was a riot of colors, an obnoxiously bright concoction topped with a tiny paper umbrella and a slice of lime perched on the rim. Callie was impossible to miss, their vibrant presence commanding attention effortlessly, like a lighthouse cutting through a foggy night.
But what truly made me grin was the sight of Elliot sitting at the edge of the table. His posture was textbook straight, like a soldier at attention, and his hands were clasped tightly on the table in front of him, as if he were bracing himself for an unexpected pop quiz. He looked completely out of place amidst the lively scene, yet somehow… perfect, like a puzzle piece that, against all odds, fit.
Getting him here had been no small task; it took a feat of persistence. Earlier that week, I’d texted him the invite, determined to coax him out of his usual routine.
Jules : Trivia Night at The Rainbow Taproom. PM. Be there or be tragically unhip.
I fully expected Elliott to decline. Sure enough, his reply buzzed back almost instantly:
Elliott: Thanks, but I have papers to grade.
I rolled my eyes, fingers flying over the keyboard.
Jules: Don’t care. There’s a history round, Teach. You’re basically required to show up.
He didn’t budge, of course.
Elliott: I’m sure you’ll manage without me,
Like hell I would let him off that easily.
Jules : Manage? Without my secret weapon? Absolutely not. PM. No excuses,
I typed, smirking at the screen. He might think he could out stubborn me, but I wasn’t about to back down. This was going to be fun.
He hadn’t replied after that, and I’d chalked it up as a loss until I spotted him sitting there, looking simultaneously resigned and bemused. He was already nursing a glass of water, appearing as though he'd accidentally stumbled into a party where he didn't know a soul. A grin spread across my face as I navigated through the bustling crowd toward him.
“Elliot!” I called out, throwing my arms wide with enthusiasm. He turned toward me, his expression hovering somewhere between apprehension and amusement. “You made it!”
“I was coerced,” he replied dryly, though a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his attempt at seriousness.
“Coerced or not, you’re here,” I replied, dropping into the seat beside him with a playful bounce. “And just in time. We’re about to dominate.”
Callie grinned, twirling her ridiculous cocktail umbrella with a flourish. “Only because you dragged in Mr. History Teacher.”
Elliot adjusted his glasses, his tone perfectly measured. “Happy to be used for my knowledge.”
“That’s the spirit,” I said, giving him a friendly pat on the back. His shoulders were tense, yet I caught the flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes.
Maxie Glam’s voice boomed over the speakers, drawing the room’s attention. “Alright, my fabulous friends! It’s Trivia Night, and I hope you came prepared. Remember, no phones, no cheating, and if you lose, no crying. Let’s get started!”
The rounds began with pop culture, geography, and music, and the table quickly fell into a steady rhythm, answers being thrown out, groans murmuring over mistakes, and triumphant cheers erupting with each correct guess. I dove into every pop culture question with an almost comical surge of overconfidence, even when it was typically unwarranted.
“Titanic came out in 1998,” I declared as if unveiling a monumental secret, my pen dancing confidently across the sheet of paper.
“199,” Elliot murmured softly, his eyes still fixed on his own writing.
I crossed out my answer with a mischievous grin, giving him a gentle nudge with my elbow. “This is why I brought you,” I teased.
In that moment, our closeness shifted subtly, the fabric of our clothes and the heat of our bodies aligning as my knee brushed softly against his under the table. I began to ease away, but hesitated when he didn’t pull back. That simple inaction took me by surprise. A tingling warmth spread wherever our skin had met, and suddenly, I found it impossible to focus on anything else. My heart thumped wildly in my chest as I deliberately pressed my knee closer against his. Still, he remained motionless, completely at ease.
I stole a glance at him from the corner of my eye. There he was, scribbling away on his answer sheet with quiet determination, his expression calm and focused. My pulse raced, and a wave of heat rolled through me, a heat so intense it had nothing to do with the muggy air outside or the vibrant chatter filling the Taproom. This newfound awareness left me questioning: What was it about him? The proximity alone was sending my world spinning, and, quite unnervingly,
And God was I turned on!
Shifting uneasily in my seat, I tried to adjust myself discreetly, though the rush of arousal left me feeling embarrassingly like an adolescent grappling with uncontrollable hormones. I couldn’t believe the moment unfolding, there was something magnetic about his quiet confidence, the way he met my teasing without retreating but without completely embracing it either. Whatever the reason, I was irrevocably hooked.
In a bold gesture, I allowed my foot to slide just a bit under the table until it brushed against his. He looked up then, his brow tilting slightly in silent inquiry, but his eyes revealed no discomfort. I offered him a playful grin, and the faint lift of his lips hinted at a smile, his version of amusement. Buoyed by his reaction, I let my foot linger there, each gentle touch unleashing tiny shocks of electricity along my skin.
By the time the history round commenced, Elliot had blossomed into his element, rattling off answers with a confident ease that filled the space between us. I cheered enthusiastically every time Maxie announced a correct response, leaning into him with exuberance as my shoulder brushed against his in celebration.
“You’re a trivia wizard,” I remarked in a conspiratorial tone while Maxie tallied our scores. “Why hide such a talent?”
“It’s not exactly something that comes up in everyday conversation,” he replied lightly, though his focused expression suggested otherwise.
“Well, consider yourself my secret weapon then,” I teased with a playful punch of his shoulder. Delight sparkled in my eyes as he didn’t recoil from the contact.
When Maxie finally announced our victory, the entire table erupted in jubilant cheers. Callie swept up the glittering tiara Maxie handed over and placed it atop their head with an exaggerated, theatrical bow. I turned to Elliot, raising my hand for a celebratory high-five. He hesitated for a split second before his warm palm met mine.
“See?” I said, grinning broadly. “You’re far more fun than you give yourself credit for.”
He ducked his head modestly. “Thanks,” he murmured, and I swear, just for an instant, a faint blush colored his cheeks.
“Well, consider you officially promoted to team MVP,” I declared, deliberately letting my knee bump his once more. This time, with a satisfying reciprocity, he bumped mine back.
The crowd began to thin as the night wound down, and the warm buzz of camaraderie lingered as Elliott, and I stepped outside. The crisp night air was quiet, a stark contrast to the Taproom, and the distant chirping of crickets blended with the sound of Rivermere Creek.
“You have to admit,” I said, bumping his arm playfully, “you had fun.”
He glanced at me, a small smile playing at his lips. “It was… better than grading papers.”
“High praise,” I teased, laughing softly.
The silence between us was easy as we reached the point where our paths diverged. I turned to him, my grin softening. “Thanks for coming tonight,” I said. “I know this isn’t really your scene, but… I’m glad you were there.”
“I am too,” he said, his voice carrying a sincerity that made my chest ache in the best way.
“Next time,” I said, letting the moment linger, “karaoke.”
He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching in amusement. “Don’t push your luck.”
I laughed, giving him a mock salute as I turned toward my street. But as I walked away, I couldn’t help glancing back. He stood there for a moment, his hands in his pockets, watching me go. I glanced back once, catching him standing under the streetlight, his expression thoughtful as he watched me go. For a man so reserved, his presence lingered, leaving me with a flicker of curiosity that I couldn’t quite shake.