Page 70 of Say It Again

Another forty-five minutes and Aaron wrote:

What time does the concert end?

Daniel hated to jam Olivia’s groove as she was dancing with her whole heart in a way that looked like she might be turned on and also swatting mosquitoes, but something was not right. It wasn’t even about Aaron being late. It was why Aaron was late.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea.” Olivia twirled around a few times. “You should put me on your shoulders.”

“Look at me.” He wafted a hand down his body and started to type out a response. “What about this frangible mien says airlifting to you? We would both need hospitalization.”

Another text from Aaron:

Sorry to do this. I’ll meet you guys at your house a little later.

It was why Aaron now wasn’t coming at all. That was the sticky part, of course, because of the answer: he was with someone else.

The image of the person Daniel’s brain supplied happened to be handsome, rich, and impossibly eligible. They also had a fancy electric car and even fancier tech company CEO title, and Aaron couldn’t help but be into them.

Daniel bit his teeth together while his anxiety did a full sweep of his body. How could it manifest? A touch of queasiness? Check. Intrusive thoughts? Check. Elevated heart rate? Not quite, but the night was young.

“What is wrong with you?” Olivia asked. “Why aren’t you dancing? Dance.”

He showed her the text trail from Aaron.

“Oh.” She tongued the corner of her mouth. “Well, that’s a bummer. He didn’t say why?”

“It’s a Saturday night, and the man’s a sex worker. He’s probably at his grandma’s house, right?”

“Well, let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“That is not something I’ve done. Just because he’s with a Swedish billionaire named Sven who’s currently flying him to the moon on the literal rocket he owns doesn’t mean I’ve jumped anywhere conclusion-wise.”

She rubbed his arm. “It feels a little specific not to be a conclusion.”

“Ugh.” He dropped his head back and groaned. “Let’s just go home.”

“No, hey. We’re not going home. We never go out, and the night is young. We’re young. Let’s do something crazy! Sow our wild oats.”

“All my oats are too tired for sowing. I’d rather go to sleep.” He slumped his shoulders and pooched his lower lip. “So I can not think about him for eight hours.”

“Screw that! Hey, look at me.” Olivia gripped his shoulders and forced his eye contact. “You know what we should do tonight?”

“Cry on the linoleum.”

“We should do psilocybin.”

He studied her face for a long time, then squinted. “Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“Mushrooms.”

“Mushrooms?”

“Mushrooms.” Her spirit fingers said it all. “The magical edition.”

He stopped blinking to gawk at her. “Are you absolutely out of your mind?”

“Not yet.” She winked. “But I could be.” Another wink with an added conspiring whisper: “Psilocybin.”

“I don’t… what? No. No, that’s ludicrous.”

---