Chapter 9 Liam #2
“And then, right when I thought we were about to have this mind-blowing moment, the girl just goes…” he paused, taking a deep breath, before pitching his voice higher, “Have you ever considered that we might’ve been wolves in another life?”
The entire group erupted.
“Wolves?” Evan wheezed. “Not even like… knights or something? She went straight to wolves?”
“Swear to God,” Renzo choked out, wiping at his eyes.
“And you still slept with her?” Max asked.
Renzo shrugged. “Listen, she was hot, and I like an experience.”
Harper took a slow sip of his drink, shaking his head. “My number one rule? Don’t stick your dick in a spirit animal.”
Max raised his bottle. “Ooh ooh category is Gold Star Gays and Renzo! Never have I ever… been with a woman.”
There was a brief pause, and then, almost in unison, Renzo, Liam, and Elliott raised their drinks.
Harper’s eyebrows flew up. “Okay, okay, that tracks.”
And then Evan slowly raised his beer and took a long sip.
Harper squealed. “Wait… you? Evan?!”
Evan chuckled, the tips of his ears going red. “Guilty. I never said I was a gold star gay. High school. Her name was Courtney. She said it was her right of passage on prom night. She had a whole vision. I was… cooperative.”
A few chuckles circled the group, but Evan kept going.
“It was over in, like, five minutes. I faked an orgasm just to end the whole ordeal.”
Harper blinked. “Wait! How do you even fake an orgasm if you have a penis?”
Evan shrugged. “Condom. Dim lighting. Panic. And being the President of the drama club.”
That set everyone off again, cackling into the night air.
“Oh my god,” Tess gasped, wiping tears from his eyes, “Please tell me you made a sound?”
Evan gave a dramatic toss of his head and let out a theatrical moan that sounded like a cross between a dying seal and a man getting a cramp.
“Uhhhghhh…yesyesyesI’msoooohappy!” he panted dramatically.
Max doubled over, wheezing with laughter. “Oh no. We’re doing this. Fake orgasm contest. Right now.”
Renzo was already stretching his neck like he was about to deliver an Oscar-winning monologue.
Harper flopped back onto his towel, laughing. “This is my kind of camping.”
As each of them took their turns, some exaggerated, some absurd, some shockingly convincing. Elliott shook his head, raising his drink. “My parents had opinions, but you can’t control who you were before.”
“And apparently,” Liam added, bumping shoulders with Sam, “you also can’t control the performance art Evan brings to prom night.”
The laughter carried through the trees, the fire crackling low, the night danced around us.
It had been a damn good week.
The night had already been one of the best of my life… and then it happened.
Music blared from the campsite next to us, the unmistakable guitar riff of Dolly Parton’s “World on Fire” cutting through the night.
And then? The fire dancers.
A group of guys from Chicago, apparently, all of them tattooed, muscled, and somehow glistening in the firelight, stepped into the clearing.
And then they fucking performed. Took over the small clearing like it was their stage. Spinning flaming batons in mesmerizing arcs, their bodies moving in sync with the pulsing beat, the firelight casting their bare skin in gold and orange, illuminating every ripple of muscle.
It was magic.
Maybe it was the gummies. Maybe it was the end of a week none of us wanted to end. Maybe it was the sheer, surreal beauty of beholding these men dance with fire, completely naked, completely fearless, completely free.
I let out a long breath, tipping my head back to take it all in.
“I think all fire twirlers should be naked men,” I decreed. “That’s just… how this art should be experienced.”
“Agreed,” Elliott whispered, eyes wide, fully entranced.
We watched for a couple more songs of impressive fire work, then just as quickly as it began, it was over, and the quiet of the campsite returned.
One by one, people started peeling off for the night.
Some wandered toward the hot tub, others toward their tents or the trails, everyone making the most of these last few hours before the real world came back in the morning.
Eventually, it was just me and Sam.
Side by side, we watched the fire fade to embers, the night quiet and still around us.
Neither of us spoke. For once, silence didn’t need filling.
And then, without thinking, without planning, without hesitation, I reached over and grabbed his hand.
Sam didn’t pull away. Didn’t tense. He just let me hold it.
“I’m really glad you came,” I murmured, my thumb brushing against his knuckles. “I’m really glad you’re my friend.”
Sam was quiet for a long moment, his hand warm in mine. Then, he giggled.
I turned to look at him, brows raised. “What?”
His shoulders shook as he tried to hold back more laughter. “Sorry. It’s just, the gummies… ” he snorted, his face already flushed from too much sun, too much laughter, too much of everything.
And then, just like that, I started laughing too.
The two of us, high and exhausted, holding hands and giggling like idiots by the dying fire.
I didn’t overthink it, analyze it, or push it away.
I just held on.