Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
Dorothy’s Friends lived, unsurprisingly, in the heart of Boystown. The busy neon sign and the facade’s bright rainbow colors dulled under the darkening sky. The sidewalk was sticky with something Baz did not want to question.
Pop music underscored the ocean of chatter that froze Baz to the entrance. Every table in the generous—still very red—space was packed, and still, people crowded around the bar. A glass smashed to the floor, followed by howled cheers celebrating the scattering shards.
A welcome to hell sign passed Baz’s inner eye.
This was a mistake. He needed to get out of here, tell Sami to come over whenever he was done partying—
“You came!” Sami’s voice cut through the chaos, an anchor grounding Baz in the safety of Sami’s beaming face that approached with quick strides.
Green, glittery eyeshadow adorned his hazel eyes.
Baz had never noticed how long his lashes were.
The top three buttons of his burgundy shirt were open, revealing his hairy chest, also sparkling with green glitter.
Baz had to remind himself to breathe.
“I’m a man of my word. I know that’s a strange concept to you.”
Chuckling, Sami brought his hands on Baz’s shoulders as if to hug him, except he stopped there. Since when did he need encouragement?
Baz let his hands wander to Sami’s waist, hot even through the cotton fabric. For once, not an awful choice of material.
“How are you feeling?”
Mad. Exhausted. Shit on toast had nothing on him.
“Ready to be distracted,” Baz settled on.
“My specialty.” Sami’s fingers slid between his.
He pulled Baz past the generously stocked bar, and toward a corner booth four others already claimed: three women, one of whom was lying back-first on the lap of another, and one guy.
The aforementioned gang, Baz presumed. He had no script to follow, no prepared conversation topics, and plenty of bad impressions to make.
Just like sucking up to the partners. He squeezed Sami’s hand, a silent plea not to leave him hanging.
“Guys, this is the dick I work with. Or rather, against,” Sami announced. Yeah, should have seen that coming.
“But most people call me Baz.” He offered a polite smile to the round.
Sami scooted knee-first onto the red-cushioned bench, patting the space next to him. After taking off his trench coat , Baz followed the invite and was greeted with a hand on his thigh. His skin grew hot and tingly under its weight; Baz put his hand on top to keep it right there.
“Baz, this is my roomie and ride or die, Naija.” Sami pointed at the woman from the bar, except now, her hair was angelically curled and the Lesbian flag painted on her eyes with impressively sharp lines.
“Nice to meet you properly,” Baz said.
“And you.” She flashed a pearly smile. Her white teeth glowed against the dark purple of her lips. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Wait, really? Sami talked about him?
“And these are Kaina and Zahra.” Sami gestured toward the women intertwined with each other. “They are insufferably in love. Honestly, close your eyes, it’s nauseating.”
“He’s just jealous,” the one on the lap, Kaina, said.
“Much to be jealous of,” Zahra purred, bending down to kiss Kaina’s forehead. Two of her blue locs fell into Kaina’s face, who giggled and twirled one around her finger.
Baz was well familiar with giddy devotion. Nothing would ever top Eevee and Joel during their first few weeks of living together. The amount of earplugs Baz had gone through back then was undignified.
There was no trace of nausea on Sami’s face either, rather something Baz could only describe as an adoring cheekiness, so he was just full of shit once again. Kind of nice, being able to count on that.
“And this is Tony, our token White gay.” Sami completed the round of introductions with the young-looking, skinny guy with spiky hair and striking gray-blue eyes squeezed on the other end of the bench.
“It’s a huge responsibility, but I carry it with grace,” Tony said. His voice was more nasal than Baz had expected.
“And together, we are the Queerious Quizzards,” Naija declared, jazz hands and toothy smile and all, which had Sami rolling his eyes.
“The name was Naija’s idea, in case you couldn’t tell.”
“You love it.”
“I plead the fifth.” With that amused smile, he hardly needed to vocalize his approval.
“I hope you play to win. They take this super seriously,” Tony said.
“Won’t be an issue,” Sami said before Baz could, so proudly as though Baz’s competitiveness was a virtue, not the vice so many had cursed it to be before. Finally, someone who got it.
“I’ll do my best to keep up,” Baz said. He didn’t have time to attend trivia nights in bars anymore, but he used to go once in a while with Eevee and Joel back in college, and he had a good memory.
Kaina freed herself from her girlfriend’s arms and sat up. “Sami was right, you do look better when you aren’t drenched in coffee.”
They had seen that photo? Just now, when Sami announced Baz would crash their hangout, or were they, not Ian, the real reason Sami had taken it?
The rosy blush blossoming on Sami’s cheek indicated the latter. That would mean… what did that mean?
“Now you look like you just got back from a meeting,” Naija said. Shocker. He hadn’t even considered changing, but amidst all the color and glitter, his black suit seemed depressingly out of place.
“Long day at the office.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll get glitter after a few drinks,” Sami hummed. Baz raised an eyebrow. They’d see about that.
“Speaking of,” Kaina said, “Sami, your man is sober.”
Your man. Baz’s heart picked up speed. Was that what Sami had told them? That they were something?
“On it!” Sami shimmied onto Baz’s lap, a tight squeeze under the bolted-down table, then swung his legs over the edge of the bench before gliding down.
Asking Baz to move would have been easier, but the most obvious path was rarely the one Sami chose.
His hand traced along Naija’s shoulders when he walked by.
Kaina’s eyes followed Sami until he made it to the bar. Then, her forearms hit the table. Her piercing gaze targeted Baz. “You’re a unicorn.”
He was? Last he checked, he was gay.
“She means Sami never brings anyone along,” Zahra explained. Oh. Seriously?
“Never?” That couldn’t be right. Sami was a social butterfly. He had hit on Baz when Baz had given him every reason to stay away. Someone like that was bound to have people fawning over him at every corner.
Shaking heads all around the table. Huh.
“I mean, he didn’t plan to invite me either,” he said to himself as much as to the gang. Really, Baz had ambushed him into a last-minute pity invite when Sami should be the last person to care about Baz’s bad days. The last one who should want to cheer him up.
Should seemed to have no space in whatever they were.
“You sure about that?” Zahra arched one eyebrow, smirking. “I’ve never seen him this excited. He couldn’t sit still for the past thirty minutes. More so than usual.”
“He usually doesn’t get giggly when he receives a heart emoji from someone for the first time either. He didn’t stop talking about it for hours when it was the middle of the night and I had a nine am lecture,” Naija said, no trace of exaggeration in her warm tone.
Sami had done that? Over a silly emoji?
“Oh,” was all Baz could say. Did that mean Sami wasn’t always as bold as he had been with him? Could this be special to him?
He watched Sami lean against the bar counter, nodding at something the blue-haired bartender said. The politeness dropped from his face the second the bartender turned away. He glanced over his shoulder. Their eyes met; the smile reappeared, softer, realer.
“All that’s to say, don’t jerk him around. If you don’t mean it, leave now,” Naija said.
Mean what? Baz didn’t mean half the things he said to Sami.
The insulting half. He hadn’t once entertained the idea that he was in a position to hurt Sami when Sami had been driving whatever they were since day one.
He had set the pace, taken charge with his witty words and alluring body that knocked every critical thought out of Baz’s brain.
Was that his way of showing that he liked Baz?
A single butterfly spread its wings in Baz’s stomach at the thought.
“I’d like to stick around,” he heard himself say. He imagined Naija’s nod was approving.
Sami returned, balancing a shot glass and drink in each hand. He placed both down without spilling a drop. Baz scooted into the middle of the bench for Sami to sit down, which he did—with one knee on top of Baz’s lap. He truly was allergic to sitting straight.
“Start with this,” Sami demanded and placed the shot of maple-syrup-brown liquid in front of him. Who was Baz to argue with the boss?
He positioned the glass and threw his head backward. The sugary sweetness was immediately overshadowed by the burn of pure hellfire running down his throat. His eyes teared up. Ugh, this was awful. And exactly what he needed.
“Thank you.” He slithered his arm along the backrest and rained his fingertips down on Sami’s shoulder, slowly enough for him to pull away if he wanted to.
Sami melted into his side with the sweetest smile that gave Baz a sugar high just from looking at it.
To get a taste… would be a step too far.
They were in public, and they didn’t do kissing outside the heat of the moment, so Baz busied himself with the second drink instead: an insanely strong gin and tonic that was much kinder to his throat.
He hadn’t invested much thought into what sort of people Sami hung out with, but if he had, this group was somehow exactly and yet not at all what he would have imagined.