Chapter 12 Connor
Connor
“You’re here!” Margot shouts through the cramped apartment, somehow accommodating a baseball roster’s worth of people. Snaking through her guests, Margot opens her arms as if to hug me, but stops dead when her chin tilts high enough to take in the man beside me. “Oh my God. It’s him.”
“It’s me,” Dane shrugs, wearing a confident smirk.
Scintillating, Margot asks, “Can I have your autograph?”
Wagging a brow, Dane answers, “Sure, where do you want it?”
“Don’t encourage her,” I interject before distracting Margot’s thirsting with a one-armed hug. I do the song and dance of officially introducing them, and Margot shakes Dane’s hand like he’s a real-life Prince Charming. It’s honestly hilarious. “Rein it in,” I tell her.
“I know, I know!” She swats my shoulder but can’t take her eyes off Dane. “I’m sorry. I’m reining it in. You’re pretty much a mini-celebrity in our classes, so this is a big moment for me.”
Confident smirk turning smug, Dane says, “I assure you. There’s nothing mini about me.”
Margot feigns fainting, and I roll my eyes.
“Stop it.” I point a warning finger at Dane, but I can’t help but smile.
The tears that glossed Dane’s eyes a couple of hours ago linger like bruises in my soul.
Whenever I see Dane so vulnerable, it reminds me of how invincible he acts.
As much as I prefer thinking of him as indestructible, there’s a well of pain that runs deep beneath Dane’s picture-perfect veneer.
“Sorry, sorry!” Margot rights herself and gestures to her party.
It’s not anywhere close to one of Dane’s friends’ ragers, but there’re black lights and string lights that make the place glow, and there’s booze, vape smoke, and darkly jaunty Halloween-themed music playing.
Not a costume party, thank God. I wouldn’t have dressed up either way.
“In all seriousness,” Margot says, “most of the guys here are also gay. And FYI, my roommate, Benji, is single. He’s super cute, and he’s a dancer. Very flexible. Just putting it out there!”
Shit. My bones go cold, and my skin flushes hot. I look from Margot to Dane and interpret the downshift in his countenance as a ding against me. I literally just told Dane today that I’d never break his confidence, and now here we are.
“A dancer, huh?” Dane’s hands slip into the pockets of his jeans, lips folding while sobered eyes flit from Margot to me, then to something behind me. “I’m gonna get a drink,” he says before sidling between us and sauntering toward the small kitchen.
“What?” Margot asks me, no doubt noticing my grimace. “Oh, crap. I’m not supposed to know he’s gay, am I?”
“It’s cool,” I say, even though I’m pretty sure I’m fucked.
Slipping from her side, I follow Dane’s path through a narrow archway and into a checker-tiled nook with apartment-sized appliances and a counter covered with liquor and snack options. Dane shoves a few Ruffles into his mouth before unscrewing a bottle of gin.
“Anything good in the fridge?” he asks me, though his focus is on finding a clean cup.
Biding my time, I open the fridge and narrate what I see until Dane tells me to bring him a can of Coke. Watching him fix Gin and Cokes into two red Solo cups, I try my hand at an awkward apology. “I’m sorry, man. I totally forgot I told her you’re…”
“Gay?” He sends me a weak half-smile, not conveying much. “Don’t sweat. I just, uh, don’t like being set up. People tell me to do one thing, I sorta wanna do the opposite.”
“Still, I messed up.”
“Drink this.” He sticks one of those cups into my hand.
Sipping on the simple cocktail, I immediately feel a flutter of intoxication in my chest, but it’ll take until the end of this drink for me to get buzzed. When a couple of already buzzed strangers burst into the kitchen, Dane and I slip out.
Walking into a cloud of cotton candy scented vape smoke, Dane leans down to my ear and says, “I’ve got a fun idea.”
Oh, no. Dane plus fun ideas tend to equal mischief, but the connotation has me grinning with curiosity. “What is it?”
“Pretend to be my boyfriend, so none of these gay dudes try hitting on me.”
I laugh awkwardly through a massive blush. “I—I can’t. I wouldn’t know how. I—”
“It’s cool. I’m teasing. But if you see anyone getting super touchy with me, intercept.”
My incredulous intrigue wilts as I realize this party is basically speed dating for dudes who like dudes. I knew about Margot's gay roommates, but I didn’t know most of her social web is gay.
I recognize some people here from classes Margot and I share, and now I’m wondering if they’re gay too.
Now I’m fretting over whether or not my sudden unease is obvious, and if people will think I’m prejudiced when really I’m just anxious.
Jealous. I don’t care how many of these men are gay as long as they keep their hands off Dane.
“Be honest with me,” Dane says, standing so close I smell his cologne over all the other competing smells swirling in the air. “You got the hots for your friend, Margot?”
“No way.” I recoil, shaking my head. “I mean, I’m not blind. I know she’s cute, but I’m not into her like that. Not really my type anyway.”
“You sure? Thought you’d be into body-mod girlies.”
“Why?” I ask, genuinely confused until I realize my eyes keep jumping down to Dane’s chest. Sometimes I can make out his rings through his clothes, but not tonight.
His black tee is knit and oversized, which makes him look even taller.
“Maybe I like the aesthetic, but it’s not my type.
I’m more into sporty girls. Muscles and long legs. ”
Dane dismisses me with an amused look and a shake of his head before widening his eyes at something behind me. “I got next!” he exclaims before hopping toward the red velvet sofa.
Mario Kart is on the TV. Someone named Alec from my critique workshop passes Dane a Switch controller.
I don’t need much of a gaydar to know Alec likes men.
He has that flamboyant effervescence and flashy style that I’ve always associated with gay men.
I send him a timid wave hello—it’s not like we’re friends or anything—then I scan the room for any actual friends.
Oh, that’s right, I don’t have any. There’s Margot, but she’s playing hostess-with-the-mostest, chumming it up with everyone in order, and I don’t want to be a pest. Maybe this is what Thalia meant when she complained about having to keep me entertained.
“Connor.” Dane’s captivating voice cuts through the music, the chatter, and the Mario Kart sound effects. “You got next?”
Grateful for the excuse to stick to Dane’s side, I wedge onto the sofa between Dane and some girl I’ve never met who’s deep into a gossip sesh with a guy I’m equally unfamiliar with.
It’s been ages since I played Mario Kart, but I remember the gist of it.
I end up shouting advice at Dane throughout his split-screen showdown until he wins with an overwhelming lead.
Without shame, Dane plucks the second controller away from Alec and delivers it to me.
It’s funny how uninterested Dane is in Alec, even though Alec seems like a super nice guy.
But all of Dane’s determination is fixed to the screen, the tip of his tongue poked out between his teeth while we battle.
I lose, but only because my eyes are wanderers, inextricably drawn to Dane, even when he’s doing nothing more than playing a kiddie video game.
“Ha!” Dane cheers, grinning at me. “Two outta three?”
No one else called dibs, so we dive into a rematch. This time, I try to focus more on the race than the tip of Dane’s tongue.
“Fuck,” I grunt as Dane mops the floor with me a second time. “Whatever. I’m still a better soccer player.”
“Aww, someone’s a sore loser!” Dane swings an arm around my neck and tugs my head to his chest. A playground knuckle sandwich messes up my hair, and I swat him until he relents.
“Looks better this way,” he says after letting me up, and both our hands fiddle with my hair in opposing manners. Every time I fix it, he messes it up again, and all the while he’s looking at me like I’m gold-plated.
His tongue runs along the seam of his lips, and it unsettles something in my gut. I push him away and snatch my Gin and Coke, throwing back the rest before standing.
“Gotta pee,” I mutter before high-stepping over a few sets of knees until I make it through the narrow valley between the sofa and the coffee table.
There’s a short line in a small, dim-lit hallway. I take a few deep breaths with my back against the wall while waiting my turn.
Once I’ve taken care of business, fixed my hair the way I like, and splashed some water on my face, I exit the bathroom to a very impatient goth girl in black lipstick who calls me a frat boy under her breath.
Do I look like a frat boy?
“Connor!” Margot’s throaty whisper-yell catches my attention as her small hand tugs on my shirtsleeve. Gleaming her weed-glazed eyes at me, she tugs me close and sings, “They’re getting along.”
“Who?”
“Benji and Dane,” she nearly squeals, jutting a finger toward the tallest man in the room.
Standing by the window now, Dane looks caught in the throes of an impassioned speech.
About what, I don’t know, but I can tell he’s excited by the way his hands fly around while he speaks, and the way he leans in close to a handsome guy with a sculpted physique and a sleek pompadour.
Tattoos run the length of his arms, and one eyebrow glints with a silver piercing.
“They look so cute together.” Margot swoons, hugging my arm like it’s a comfort item.
She’s touchy, which is strange for me. Dane is touchy, too, but I’ve grown to enjoy it from him. I enjoy him, and I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t see him every day or feel his hands on me when he’s clingy. I wonder now what he’s telling Benji that’s got him so hyped.
“Is it possible to be proud and jealous?” Margot sighs.
Is it possible to be straight and jealous?
“What?” Margot squints her confusion up at me.
“Huh?” I cock a brow down at her.