This is hilarious. Theo and I are kissing.
I feel him smile against my lips like we’re both in on the joke. I still have a hand in his hair and use it to pull him closer, like maybe we can melt into a single person. For a moment, I’m lost in the delightful idea that Finn, Theo, Priya, and I could merge into one being. That way I could keep them as close to my heart as possible, because their heart would be my heart, too.
Now Theo’s tongue is in my mouth. His fingertips dig into my hips. I haven’t kissed anyone in a long time. I forgot how much fun it is. Theo’s a good kisser.
We break apart, both of us out of breath. I think only a few seconds passed, but I can’t be sure. Time feels bendy.
Wow, I kissed Theo. How funny! I start laughing again and can’t stop. I’m doubled over laughing. This is so funny.
“Are you okay?” Priya’s at my side with her hand on my back. I arch into her touch like a cat, it feels so good.
“I’m great. I’m—” I can’t get my words out, I’m laughing too hard.
“Oh, I thought you were crying,” she says.
“Crying? No. Why would I be crying? Tonight’s the best.” I straighten up and look her in the eye. She’s so beautiful. I look around for Finn. He was at the bar but now he’s missing. Why isn’t he dancing with us?
“Where’s Finn?” I ask.
“He’s been on his phone all night,” Theo says. “Booorrrring!”
“I think he left?” Priya’s answer comes out like a question.
“Left?” I mimic her words back at her in confusion. “Why would he leave? We’re having so much fun.”
Priya squints one eye shut like trying to remember is physically painful. “I think he looked mad when he left.”
“When did he leave?” I’m instantly sober, like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. Is Finn okay?
“A few minutes ago, while you were making out,” Priya says.
“We weren’t making out,” I protest.
“No, I’m pretty sure we were making out,” Theo says.
Shit. Did Finn see? Is that why he left? I have to find him and explain. I turn around mid-conversation and head for the door.
“Hey, wait!” Theo calls from behind me. “Wait for us.”
I ignore him.
I stumble up a flight of wooden stairs using the wall for balance and out the front door. The minute I’m outside, my skin prickles with goose bumps. I had a sweater earlier, plus my jean jacket and a winter coat. I’m not sure where any of them went. But it doesn’t matter, that’s not important right now.
I look both ways down the side street the bar is on for any sign of Finn, but there isn’t any. His apartment is a few blocks from here. It’s 3:00 a.m. Where else would he have gone? I need to find him and make sure he’s alright. He’s probably not even mad. If he’s as drunk as the rest of us, maybe he Irish exited to go home to bed.
We’re fine. We have to be fine.
Oh god, what have I done?
fourteen
Finn
Christmas #9, 2016
Can you talk? reads Jeremy’s text.
I’m still out. Everything OK? I write back.
Are you having fun? he asks.
Good question. I’m not having fun, even though I should be. I feel off for some reason. Something about being here at this drag club is making me sad. The place is packed like it’s a regular Saturday night and not Christmas, and part of me wonders why these people aren’t with their families. How many are like me and can’t go home? Being here tonight makes me feel like a gay cliché.
No one else seems too worried about it, though, so I take a pull of my drink and try to wash away the unsettled feeling. I think about going outside and calling Jeremy, but his texts have gotten more frequent and desperate as the night’s worn on and I’m not in the mood to hear about his idyllic nuclear-family Christmas. Part of me thought maybe he would invite me, even though we’ve only been dating three months. It’s too soon, but maybe there’s a special exception because I don’t have family to go home to. But no matter how many hints I dropped, no invitation materialized.
The bartender places another vodka soda in front of me. I didn’t order it, but he’s taken a liking to me ever since I complimented his sweater and it’s paid dividends. The sweater is red and covered in a garish hodgepodge of bows, garland, and ornaments. Definitely homemade. It would kill at an ugly sweater party, but I don’t think he’s wearing it ironically.
Over on the dance floor my friends are off their faces. Theo and Hannah are dancing together under the glow of a janky disco ball that looks like it might detach from the ceiling at any moment. It’s endearing how awful a dancer Theo is, since he’s so poised in every other way. It’s like he learned all his moves from studying Magic Mike. There’s a lot of gratuitous hip gyrating and running his hands through his hair and down his chest. Inexplicably, there’s also a lot of pointing. The fact that his shirt is mostly unbuttoned only adds to the faux stripper vibe.
Hannah is half dancing with him, but every thirty seconds she gets distracted by one of the hot pink laser lights and stops to track it with her finger. Those two are going to be so hungover tomorrow. Priya’s nowhere to be seen. I hope she’s not puking in the bathroom. Maybe we can all sleep at Theo’s tonight, and I’ll make pancakes in the morning.
I’d be having more fun if you were here, I text Jeremy. It’s not his fault I’m in a bad mood or that he has a supportive family who loves him.
His text back is immediate. It’s after 2:00 a.m., so he must be in bed. I can’t imagine there’s much to do in Scranton, Pennsylvania, this time of night. Same. I wanted to tell you what I’d be doing to you if I was there, but you can’t talk :（ :（ :（
Oh, wow. Sweet, reserved Jeremy is also blotto. I get half hard thinking about having phone sex with him while he’s in his childhood bedroom with his parents asleep down the hall. I consider going to the bathroom to call him until I play out the scenario in my head and realize that would make me the creepy guy jerking off in the only stall in the men’s room. Will you be up in an hour? I text. I don’t think anyone here’s going to last much longer.
Three dots appear, then disappear.
I look back over at Hannah and Theo on the dance floor. And . . .
WHAT THE HELL?
No.
It can’t be.
But it is.
They’re kissing?
They are definitely kissing. And they look into it.
I don’t have a good angle from my barstool, but I’m pretty sure there’s tongue. I count in my head as I watch.
Thirteen . . . fourteen . . . fifteen.
This isn’t a friendly peck. This is an I want to rip your clothes off make-out.
Maybe I’m drunker than I realized. Maybe I’m hallucinating. This can’t be right.
“Excuse me,” I call to the bartender, who’s wiping down a bottle of well vodka at the other end of the bar, and signal for the check. When he returns with my card and receipt, I add a hefty tip and scrawl an illegible signature.
I take a final glance over my shoulder as I head up the stairs to the street. They’re still kissing. Hannah’s hands are in Theo’s hair, his are on her ass.