Page 20 of You Are Not Me

I followed his line of sight to a slim, young blond guy standing with his hands in his pockets, searching around the room. His eyes fell on Daniel and his face brightened, his hand coming up in an enthusiastic wave. Daniel waved back.

Downing his second drink in a fast gulp, he slammed the glass back on the bar. As he stood, he smiled at me again, his eyes liquor-bright and his mouth twisted down at the edges. “Wish I’d known you’d be here tonight. I wouldn’t have made other plans.”

I swallowed thickly, glancing back to the handsome guy waiting for Daniel. “Yeah, me too.”

“See you around, Peter.”

I hated those words as much as I wanted them to be true.

Daniel waved at his pals before crossing the room to meet his date. The guy grabbed him by the hand and tugged him toward the staircase, a wide, anticipatory grin on his narrow face.

“And there he goes,” Barry said meaningfully, leaning against the bar as I watched Daniel’s head disappear from sight.

I said nothing. Barry replaced my club soda for me and swiped a rag over the bar, taking Daniel’s empty glasses.

“Dammit,” I whispered to myself. Though I didn’t know what I’d expected to happen.

Daniel’s stool wasn’t empty for long. Minty dropped onto it, his purple tutu rubbing against my chinos and his thin, white arms curled up to rest on the bar. He stared at me for a long, curious second. “I’ve met you before, right?”

“Yeah.” I shook off my disappointment and gave him my attention. “Last spring, up on campus.”

“Did we fuck?”

I almost choked on my soda. “No.”

“Right.” Minty frowned. “Did I suck you off?”

I stared at him.

“Well?”

“My car was broken down,” I said slowly. “Daniel helped me.”

Minty grinned. “Oh, right! I remember now. You lookedamazingthat night. Made of moonbeams. Everyone was made of moonbeams.” He tilted his head. “You look all right now too.”

“Thanks?”

Minty laughed and fluffed his tutu. He turned away from me to hammer his fists on the bar. “Jolly Zima, Barry! Watermelon! Hit me!”

Barry rolled his eyes, but he pulled a Zima out from the fridge and popped the lid. Reaching under the counter, he came out with a watermelon Jolly Rancher, unwrapped it, and dropped it into the drink. Minty slapped three dollars down and took a dainty sip.

“Ah! Perfection!” Turning to me, he lowered his eyelashes flirtatiously. “Anyway, back to what you were saying. We haven’t fucked yet?”

Startled, nervous laughter bubbled out of my mouth.

“Minty,” Barry said. “Drink your Zima and leave Peter alone.”

“Sure thing. You’re the boss.” Minty sighed and leaned toward me conspiratorially. “Hewon’t fuck me either. What’s a girl gotta do these days? I mean, I look good, don’t I?”

I looked him over—white, though scuffed, ballet slippers, purple tutu, toned, pale, lithe arms, and his made-up face. “Sure. You look really pretty.”

Minty grinned. “Aw, you know how to make a girl feel nice.”

“Didn’t I just see you downstairs with two guys, though?”

“Just two? Please. They’re just a warm-up.” He sniffed.

Renée appeared at my side, dropping an arm around my shoulder. “Minty, doll baby, I need you backstage in an hour. You’re my naughty boy tonight.”

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