Page 33 of Tongue-Tied

The night air is a bit chilly for this time of year, so the heat from the fire will help. But when I feel Austin shiver beside me, I step in front of him to run my hands up and down his arms.

“You want my hoodie?” I ask.

“Then you’ll be cold.”

“I don’t mind.”

Austin pokes a finger at my chest. “See? You would be good at this stuff.”

“I am good at it—with you.”

His eyes glaze over before they clear, and I wonder what he’s thinking right then. That I’m full of shit, or that he wishes I were someone else? That’s what this is all about, after all, but I’m not bullshitting him. I’ve always cared about his well-being. Maybe I’m laying it on a little thick tonight, but it’s not that far of a leap from the real me.

“Let’s get closer to the fire.” He motions to the partygoers surrounding the flames. “That’ll help.”

I recognize some familiar faces in the crowd. Austin hasn’t belonged to any groups since middle school, but I think there’s a certain camaraderie to being part of something like this. Association member or not, everyone is friendly. I wave to Jason, who’s talking to a group of people. It’s actually his older brother Steve who organized the club during his time at FU, but Jason seems to have taken the helm well.

Jason motions over someone’s shoulder to us. “Drinks are in the coolers.”

“Thanks!” I squat to open a lid. “I’m gonna grab a beer. How about you?”

“Sounds good.”

I use the opener to pop the caps, then pass one to Austin.

14

AUSTIN

It’s crowded around the bonfire, and there’s music piping from someone’s phone. I try to ignore that panicky feeling in my gut because I can see the ocean, which reminds me that we’re outside and I can escape if I feel overwhelmed.

The beer warms my stomach, and it’s exactly what I need. This definitely feels different from being here with Dex as just friends. It’s eye-opening how much of a hot mess I’d be on a real date. If Dex hadn’t been pretending with me, I might’ve already been ditched at the restaurant.

Jason approaches as we’re enjoying the fire. He’s always passing out flyers on campus, and he’s super friendly.

He and Dex fist-bump before he turns to me. “Austin, right?”

“Yeah, how did you…?”

“Dex talks about you all the time.” That swoopy stomach thing happens again.

“Don’t give him a big head.” Dex winks.

“As if,” I scoff.

Jason snickers. “Hey, if you’re interested in doing more outings with the club, we have our color-coded mixer at Love Shack next week.”

Love Shack is the local LGBTQ+ club that many on campus frequent.

“Cool, thanks!” Dex replies, and I nod. “We’ll think about it.”

I watch as Jason is approached by a few others at the party.

“What does that mean—color-coded?” I ask Dex.

“It depends on the event. The party I attended last year was at that Navy SEAL bar during Fleet Week. They handed out stickers to indicate whether you were top, bottom, or vers.”

“Oh God.” I cover my face with my hands. “I would die announcing that to anyone.”

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