Page 54 of Whiskey Neat

Like this fucking jealousy every time a guy talks to him. What the fuck is that about? Or this weird desire to comfort him, take care of him, erase every bit of sadness from his pretty face. Since when do I give a fuck about anything but a good time?

I catch up to him in time to grab the door and hold it for him. An amused smile passes across his lips, causing a weird-ass flutter in my chest.

“Such a gentleman.”

“That’s me.”

Salem laughs softly as he maneuvers his way to the host stand, with me on his heels like a new puppy. We’re led to a table, and I’d bet we’re both grateful for the busy, loud ambiance of the place.

“What’s good?” Salem asks me.

“I’ve heard they have amazing burgers.”

“Mmm, a meaty burger sounds good.”

His delivery is pornographic, leaving me slightly panting for another taste of him, but he seems oblivious to what he just did to me, happily humming as he reads over the menu.

A few seconds later, a server appears at our table, a tall, good looking guy with cub written all over him. Kit would drool. Salem glances up at the waiter, briefly, before looking back at the menu.

“Hi, guys,” the server says. “I’m Cristo. Can I get you started with drinks?”

“What do you have for top shelf whiskey?” I ask.

“We have Glenlivet 12.”

“That’ll do. Neat.”

Salem is smiling at me with his head slightly tilted. “What’s a good whiskey drink if I’m not ready for it straight up?”

“An Old Fashioned is good if you want to enjoy the whiskey.”

“I’ll have that, please,” he says to Cristo.

“Be right back.”

Salem closes his menu. “Whiskey and burgers. I feel very masculine.”

I chuckle. “You are very masculine in your own way.”

Surprise flashes across his features before he blinks it away. “You think so?”

“Of course. You’re a man, right?”

“A man who wears makeup and lingerie and flits around like a hummingbird.”

“And? That’s your gender presentation. Fuck those arbitrary traits society has made up.”

“Easy for the super masc with a taste for femme guys to say.”

I nod, leaning back in my chair. “Yeah, I guess it is. I’m not trying to be insensitive.”

“Oh, I know. Trust me, I’m thankful men like you exist. I’m comfortable with who I am. I like my pretty panties and a glossy lip. Sometimes I wish…” His words trail off as he drags his finger down his water glass. “Nothing.”

“No, tell me. Please.”

He looks up, his eyes big and vulnerable, and yeah, I want to crawl across this table and pull him onto my lap.

“I wish people would let other people live their lives, you know? I’ve never hurt anyone by wearing eyeliner.” His eyes well with tears, and this time he’s not successful at blinking them away before a tear escapes. “Fuck.”

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