Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 665(@200wpm)___ 532(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“Kale chips. Because my intelligent ass usually stays away from rabbit food. Do I look like a rabbit?”
Farrow eyes the club’s entrance like he wishes Donnelly were here to respond in jabby humor to that one. His mouth downturns into a deep frown, and I feel that, too.
Jack grins brighter and more affectionately at his husband. “Here. Swig this, Os.” He puts a mojito in Oscar’s hand, who downs half the glass in one gulp, and then he kisses Jack’s temple.
Jack smiles even more.
With an arm around his husband, Oscar asks, “Out of all the appetizers, who ordered kale?”
Moffy’s neck is a little red. “Definitely not me.” He totally had to be the one. He rereads the menu like he fucked up a simple order.
I don’t usually see this side of Moffy. Unless we’re in a deep conversation about life and our parents, he almost always seems assured of everything. When he notices me staring, he goes super stiff and stone-faced.
Oscar looks like he’s about to rib Moffy the way he would Farrow, but Farrow cuts in, “Order your own food, Oliveira.”
Oscar throws a kale chip at Moffy, but Farrow swats it away with a territorial expression that makes Oscar laugh. And Moffy is smiling more, maybe at seeing his husband defend him or at seeing his husband joke with his friend—I’m not sure which.
After more orders are placed, drinks are served, appetizers arrive, and both Korey and Donnelly still haven’t shown.
Donnelly’s date is also MIA, not that I thought she’d arrive without him. The three empty chairs have drawn a large strain over the table that fried green tomatoes, green deviled eggs, and salsa verde can’t combat.
I keep hoping Donnelly won’t appear, and it’s probably the first time in my life that I can remember where I don’t want to see him. Usually I’m looking to the stars, wishing he’d walk into the room.
With Korey, I struggle with wanting him to be here but not wanting to spend time with him. Really, at this point, I just don’t want to feel like I crashed everyone else’s date night with my solo self.
And Eliot brought a freaking pop star to this thing. My date was a wizard. He could’ve been an awesome, friendly wizard, but I’m afraid he’s a really shitty wizard, one who can’t even go on a date that I’m paying him to be on. Over text, we agreed that I’d Venmo him five hundred dollars after the date ends.
A slow pit fills my stomach.
Oscar munches on a potato chip dyed lime-green, much happier now that the kale is being eaten by Jack. “Did we tell Donnelly that his date has to be alive?” he asks Farrow with dead seriousness.
I frown, about to defend Donnelly. He wouldn’t bring a corpse.
“I didn’t,” Farrow says.
“What are the chances he brings a blow-up doll?”
Talia laughs in surprise. “Would he really? To this club?” She begins to cringe. “That would be…so weird.”
I wish I brought a blow-up alien. Our blow-up friends could make out. I smile to myself, and say aloud, “Blow-up friends have feelings too.”
Her cringe is on me now.
“You don’t have to hang around him then,” Farrow says easily to her. “I will.”
I smile again.
“Donnelly’s bailing,” Oscar announces. “Hundred bucks.”
“Not taking that,” Farrow swigs the last of his energy drink.
Eliot leans forward, elbows on his knees and a lighter in hand. “I’m in.”
Oscar blinks. “And just like that, the bet has been retracted.”
Eliot frowns. “Why?”
“I have this new rule,” he says. “I don’t make bets with Cobalts.” Oscar drinks an iced water, hydrating. It sounds like he lost a bet—probably to Charlie.
Eliot sips an Emerald City cosmo and then reaches behind Talia and Cody to pass the martini glass to me. He turned twenty-one back in June, and I’m thankful he’s supplying me with small alcoholic sips. Liquid courage helps some.
“So how long have you played piano? I hated guitar, but piano is something I’ve always wanted to try,” Talia chats with Cody, the pianist. Both are wedged between Tom and Eliot. Angling away from the Cobalts and towards each other, they’ve been engrossed in a piano convo.
Tom is scrolling on his phone. Not even bothered that Cody is more interested in Eliot’s date. Probably because he had no clue he was being setup in the first place.
Eliot careens back in his chair to catch my eyes. He whispers over to me, “What is happening?” Cody and Talia are too absorbed to hear him.
I peer past Tom beside me and realize Cody’s knees are knocked into Talia’s knees. Oh, his hand is on her thigh. Whether unconsciously or consciously, I don’t know. He’s talking about some Martha Argerich tribute concert that he has an extra ticket to, and Talia is eye-swooning, ready to be swept off her feet.
I lean back to talk to Eliot. “The fifth dimension. Something that only exists in spacetime. Can’t be explained otherwise.”