Page 45 of Tongue-Tied

Austin breaks the tension by throwing out a ridiculous fact. “Did you know those coffee sleeves are called zarfs?”

“Excuse me? Did you just pass gas?”

He belts out a laugh, and it’s contagious.

Austin follows me out the door as we create ridiculous sentences with the new word.

“You just cut the zarf.”

“Oh, zarf off.”

So far, our second fake date is off to a good start.

18

AUSTIN

We order a rideshare, and soon enough, we’re getting out at the curb near Love Shack. Which is just as well because Dex’s thigh against mine in the back seat is warm, and he smells so good that I almost want to stay put and beg off. But that’s just my nerves getting the best of me.

We join the back of the long line with Jason and a few others from the LGBTQ+ club. We make small talk as we wait, but I’m distracted by the other attendees, most of whom look fit and trim and ready for a night of partying in what could only be described as their club clothes—leather harnesses, tight pants, and cropped shirts showing off muscled physiques.

I suddenly feel ridiculous thinking I look decent enough to enter a trendy club. Dex doesn’t own any club clothes either, but he exudes the confidence and sexiness I’m sorely lacking.

I feel Dex’s hand squeeze my shoulder. “I can see your thoughts going haywire. I’m here with you. Try to relax.”

I can only nod as I zero in on the door, where the bouncer is handing out wristbands, and then beyond him, on the person standing just inside. You only get a wristband if you’re of drinking age, so the other setup must be the color-coded thing.

When it’s finally our turn, we show our IDs to the bouncer, and then we’re directed by a woman to three baskets.

“What are these for?” I ask, nerves kicking up in my stomach.

Dex motions to the directions above the table. “The green sticker means you’re single and looking for a relationship, the red means you’re taken, and the yellow implies you’re open to anything else, like hookups or threesomes.”

I relax a little, glad that the stickers have nothing to do with sex positions. I suppose affixing a red one would be a good way to fend off unwanted advances, but I’m obviously open to anyone who wants to talk to me. At least I think I am.

Suddenly, this night feels a bit confusing. Instead of asking Dex which to choose, I reach for a green sticker, assuming that’s what he’d suggest because isn’t that basically what this night is about? Gaining more experience talking to attractive men. Dex studies me briefly before reaching for a yellow sticker. We affix them to our shirts, then step inside the club.

Right away, the sea of bodies and the loud techno music overwhelm me.

But Dex is loving the atmosphere. “This place is pure fire!”

As we shuffle through the crowd toward an empty spot along the wall, I start focusing on my surroundings. It dawns on me that this is my first time in this type of LGBTQ+-friendly setting. There are people in groups or paired up everywhere—men with men, women with women, talking or dancing or making out. There’s no judgment in this safe room. For the first time tonight, I inhale a deep breath.

“How you holding up?” Dex asks.

“Fine, I just…” I cast my gaze around the warehouse-type large space, trying to take it all in. “Didn’t really dawn on me that it would be all of…this.”

“All of what?” Dex follows my gaze to two men making out against a wall. “Shit, I’m sorry. Should’ve been more mindful that this is your first time in a gay club.”

“No, that’s not what I…this is actually super cool!” I smirk as I home in on Dex’s tight jeans and thin shirt that hugs his lean muscles. “And now I get why this might be your scene.”

“It can be.” He grins. “Depending on my mood.”

It’s hard to chat with the others from the club over the booming music, but soon enough, everyone is off doing their own thing. Jason is already on the dance floor with his yellow sticker, and I watch as his hips gyrate against some random guy. I doubt I will ever feel that uninhibited, but just being here is a start.

We make our way to the bar and order virgin drinks, which is the only thing available to those of us without wristbands. Dex gets a kick out of saying Sex on the Beach and a Screaming Orgasm to the hot bartender, who winks at him.

“Cheers!” Dex and I clink glasses, then take our first sips.

---