Chapter 21
Elliot texts the group to let them know we’re following a new lead and the lack of response from them suggests that they’re either out of signal or too busy enjoying themselves to look at their phones at all. I smile at the thought.
We retrace our steps back to the Jungle area with the drumstick in our hands once again.
Our arms brush together as we walk, and honestly I can’t tell if I re-introduced the stick for us to share so he could safely lead me through the crowds, or if it’s just an excuse to be a little closer to him.
Pausing every so often to let tides of people pass us, I wait next to him and let his strong frame shield me from the crowds.
‘So, what’s Neptune’s Lounge like?’ I ask as we make our way under the Jungle entrance.
‘No idea, haven’t been there yet. It’ll be a new one for both of us.’
The sun has almost completely set now, leaving a line of burning scarlet on the horizon. Colourful lighting jolts new life into the Jungle area as hues of green illuminate the venues and palm trees. That familiar sensation of heavy bass shudders under my feet once again.
A circular red tent comes into view as we approach the lounge’s supposed location according to the map.
An elaborate mural decorates every inch of the tent’s walls, depicting paintings of mermaids with long, flowing hair and sirens with glowing eyes.
The entrance is sealed with a heavy, red curtain and guarded by a man in all black checking IDs.
After briefly flashing our driving licenses in his direction, we’re inside.
I’m instantly hit with the thrum of a steady, low bass line and the smell of something heavy and smoky.
The tent has a simple layout, with a long bar lining the back and some standing tables dotted in front of it.
Around the edges are cosy booths and sitting areas of all kinds, including a rowing boat, a phone box, a swinging garden seat, and even a bed shrouded with black gauze.
Pairs stand at every table caressing their drinks and leaning close together to talk over the music.
The walls of the tent are completely covered with leaves and adorned with hanging lanterns glowing a deep red.
There are a few tyre swings near the entrance, which I can’t help but think is a questionable choice of seating at a venue that sells alcohol.
It doesn’t escape my notice that the atmosphere in here is different from the other venues.
The combination of the slow, rolling rhythm of the music paired with the low lighting and intimate conversations dotted around the tent makes me stand up a little straighter.
Elliot eventually faces me with a question in his eyes. ‘Drink?’
‘Yep,’ I say with a nod.
We walk to the bar and unceremoniously drop our joining hands with the drumstick on top of it, browsing the menu behind a short, blonde barmaid in silence.
Upon seeing the drumstick, she lets out a loud gasp.
‘Oh my God, it’s you! You’re the drumstick couple!’ Her voice is airy and high with a strong Welsh accent.
I feel my eyes go wide.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask, as I hear Elliot mutter, ‘Oh no.’
‘I saw that photo of you on Twitter – wait a minute, are you the ones who caught a drumstick after a show and had that blazing row?’
We both nod with our mouths sealed, faces almost glowing with shame.
‘And you’ve really both been holding it this whole time?’ she asks incredulously.
‘Yeah, um… kind of,’ I reply, trying to keep my voice light.
‘Well, fuck me,’ she says, her eyebrows sky high. ‘Wow, that is commitment, isn’t it? Right, so what can I get you? It’s on me,’ she announces happily.
Elliot shakes his head profusely. ‘That’s really kind, but you don’t have to–’
‘It’s our pleasure, honestly. It is within our power to gift the odd couple free drinks, no big deal.’
‘We’re not a–’ I stop myself with a grim smile, deciding not to waste my breath. ‘That’s really nice of you, thank you.’ We order a cocktail each and wait in heavy silence until she returns with wonderfully pink concoctions in glasses so wide they almost look like bowls.
‘Cool glasses,’ I point out, trying to break the strange new tension.
‘Girthy, aren’t they?’ she replies with an eager nod. Elliot immediately clears his throat and reaches for his glass.
‘Thanks again,’ I say, reaching for my own. ‘We really appreciate it.’
Elliot similarly grumbles his thanks.
‘So, any idea yet on who you think might actually get to keep it?’ she asks, leaning forward on her elbows. ‘If, you know, the winner truly takes all?’
Unsure how to respond, Elliot and I turn to look at each other questioningly. At this stage, I have absolutely no idea who will be the one to take it home. It has become an almost permanent fixture between us.
‘Uh, nope. Not sure yet,’ Elliot says mildly.
‘Well, good luck! Post an update about who wins on Twitter, please,’ she says with another wink and a grin, tapping the bar before turning to another girl waiting next to us.
As sweet as she is, I think that the chances of a Twitter announcement have just reached an all-time low, if Elliot’s expression is anything to go by.
I take a sizeable gulp of my drink before turning to walk away, drumstick still in hand.
We find a small, empty table and quietly put our drinks down. I rest my elbows on it as Elliot runs his free hand through the back of his hair. I break the silence, pointing at the drumstick.
‘Shall we deposit it in my bag for now?’ I ask.
He lets go as if it’s burned him. ‘Yeah.’
‘Feeling self-conscious?’ I can’t help but ask. Self-conscious just doesn’t seem like a thing Elliot can experience.
‘A little,’ he admits. ‘Are you not?’
‘No, spent enough time feeling self-conscious,’ I reply with a laugh, then decide to not let the comment hang for longer than it needs to when his expression turns from guarded to concerned.
‘There is something about being known as the “drumstick couple” on Twitter that is a bit uncomfortable, though.’
‘I think it’s uncomfortable to be known as anything on Twitter.’
I flap a hand at him. ‘It’s fine, people will forget we exist by the end of the weekend.’
‘Yeah,’ he agrees uneasily, casting a nervous glance around the tent.
‘Hey,’ I murmur, tapping his arm more warmly. ‘Are you worried?’
‘Sorry,’ he frowns down at his glass. ‘I just… I’m a private person. I don’t like the idea of people discussing us on the internet.’
‘Don’t worry, we’re hardly going to become famous. We’ll elect a winner between us before that happens.’
His face lights up again with that familiar quiet smile. I bask in it, taking in his long eyelashes as they’re illuminated under the red lights.
‘Oh, really?’ he says. ‘And who would you vote for? I’m intrigued.’
‘Well, give me a moment.’ I pause for a second, resting my fingers on my temples and closing my eyes in concentration. ‘Okay. I’ve had a long, hard think. I’m considering voting for myself, unless I’m suddenly, gainfully swayed.’
‘Surprising.’
I tip my drink at him before taking another generous sip. ‘You’re not a social media fan then?’
He shakes his head and leans his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his fist. I try not to stare at it, and the way he gently runs his thumb across the edge of his jaw. ‘You?’
I swallow. ‘A little bit. It’s kind of as fun as you make it, if that makes sense.’
‘Sure,’ he agrees. ‘I guess I never saw the point. Or had anything to say.’
‘You have plenty to say,’ I say disbelievingly. ‘It’s done a lot of damage, I know. But it’s brought a lot of people together as well. Online communities are a godsend. People find a lot of comfort and safety in them.’
‘Have you?’
I stare at the table for a moment. ‘Yeah, I have. It’s been a healthy place for me.
Community is kind of important for me, you know?
And for any topic on earth, you’ll find a passionate community for it.
Sourdough, wire organisation, washi tapes…
’ I start to worry I’m giving away all of my interests and change tack. ‘Uh… badminton? Anal?’
Elliot suddenly covers his mouth, and I think he might be choking.
‘That last one came a bit out of nowhere,’ he says, his eyes watering.
‘Well, it probably exists. I’m just demonstrating the range of communities online.’
‘I’m sure it does exist, I don’t doubt that.’ He fiddles with the rim of his glass. ‘At least people can express themselves somewhere.’
‘Exactly.’ I take another sip of my drink. ‘And you know what, if more people are being honest about sex, good.’
What am I saying? What??
‘Yeah, I mean, the more transparency about some stuff the better,’ he says, his brows pulled together. ‘I don’t think I could ever talk about that part of my life online though. Do people you know really do that? Like, go into detail?’
I try not to choke to death on my drink at the very brief mention of his sex life. With another gulp, I realise that my limbs are considerably lighter. Fuzzier. The alcohol in my system seems to be taking effect, making my cheeks feel warmer and my lips less restrained.
Meanwhile, an unsettling sensation has started inkling its way through my nervous system, humming with excitement.
Something about the way his hand, adorned with one silver ring on his middle finger, skims over his hard jaw is having a very strange effect on my hormones – reminding me to actually try out the vibrator that has been sitting in its packaging in my dresser for the last month.
I drag my eyes away from him. An orgasm is all I need.
Maybe two.
‘Not necessarily friends of mine, but some people do. And others come from more of an educational standpoint. Debunking myths with research and trying out different things with their partners or just themselves. It’s all good stuff to know.’
He makes a polite noise of interest. ‘Anything I should know?’ he asks over the top of his glass as he takes a sip.
‘I’m sure you already know it all,’ I say, rolling my eyes.