Page 30 of Shifting Gears

“Yeah, the strawberry is more in the smell than the taste,” Dani says, laughing. She takes a sip of her own moonshine and hardly makes a face as she swallows—Eleanor is enraptured by the way her mouth forms around the lip of the glass, the gentle bob of her throat. “Eventually you get used to it. Don’t worry, I won’t give you any more. I really am sorry for not warning you.” When she grins, it’s sweet and a bit crooked, and she’s close enough that Eleanor can in fact smell strawberry on her breath.

Eleanor drums her fingers on the table. She looks around—half the people here seem to be drinking the moonshine, now that she’s paying attention. Even Jenny has a small glass of it going behind the bar.

“I wouldn’t mind trying it again,” Eleanor says.

“Nobody will judge you if you don’t. Mila won’t touch the stuff.”

“I want to give it a fair shot. Consider it a cultural experience.”

“If you’re sure,” Dani says, handing Eleanor her own glass. There’s a bit of glitter where Dani last drank, and Eleanor stops just short of lining up her own mouth to it. She needs to hold on to some dignity, however fleeting.

Eleanor sips it this time; it still burns like hell, but she can taste a hint of sweetness behind the fire. “It’s good,” she says squeakily.

Dani slings an arm over the back of Eleanor’s chair. It doesn’t have uneven legs to stabilize today, so it feels like a habit she’s forming more than anything else. “It’s okay to say you hate it.”

“It’s an acquired taste,” Eleanor says once she’s cleared her throat of the afterburn. “It’s that big, shiny moon of yours that makes it taste like sweetened paint thinner, I take it?”

Dani’s laugh seems to fill the whole room.

It does taste a little better with each sip, though Eleanor suspects that might be because it’s slowly deadening her taste buds. As she’s finishing the second glass, the gathering slowly turns into a dance party, which then turns into Dani and Owen having a dance off in the middle of a cheering circle of people.

Eleanor stands on the sidelines, observing intently but trying to remain unseen. Mila is dancing enthusiastically with her husband, who has eyes only for her. Sarah and Naomi are dancing near each other without actually touching, both of them looking painfully interested but refusing to take the first step. Dani is moving confidently, unashamed of her ridiculous dance moves.

Naomi finds Eleanor at the bar a few songs later, just as Eleanor is ordering a third glass.

“Having fun?” Naomi asks, hopping onto the bar stool to Eleanor’s left. She’s breathing hard, and Jenny quickly hands her a cup of water.

“This might be the best Pride I’ve ever been to,” Eleanor says. She wouldn’t ordinarily be so candid with someone she barely knows, but she’s feeling warm and sociable as she sips at her new drink. Dani was right—she can hardly taste it now.

“Really? Big-city Pride doesn’t measure up?”

“I don’t usually have the time to go, to be honest. Work eats up most of my time.”

Naomi chuckles. “I know how that feels. Clinic hours never end. What do you do?”

Eleanor has skillfully avoided that very question since she arrived here, and for good reason. With two and a half servings of strawberry moonshine in her system, apparently her sense of self-preservation has gone out the window. Everything is a little fuzzy.

“I work in tech,” Eleanor says loudly, watching the party proceed over the rim of her glass—Sarah and Owen are in a dance off, which Sarah is handily winning. “Last Pride I was working until midnight trying to finalize an acquisition.”

“Sounds intimidating.”

Eleanor shrugs. “It was just a little medical startup company. They were working on MRI and ultrasound prototypes that could shake up the market. We had the resources they needed.”

“No kidding! I’ve been saying for years that some new funding in the imaging sector could lower testing costs,” Naomi says, now sitting straight up and fully engaged in the conversation. “Where do you work, exactly?”

A hand lands on Eleanor’s elbow before she can open her mouth. It’s Dani—she’s down to her tank top again, and she’s sweaty and tanned and absolutelygorgeous.

“Thanks,” Dani says, grinning, which is when Eleanor realizes that she must have said some part of that last thought out loud. “You guys should come dance!”

Eleanor hardly has the self-awareness to feel embarrassed. She downs the rest of her glass in a mouthful, and before she knows it she’s happily drunk and dancing like an idiot with everyone else.

She’s still coherent enough to know a few things. Firstly, that she’s a terrible dancer and that her moves amount to a lot of jumping and arm flailing, which she’d be mortified by under any other circumstances; secondly, that Dani is dancing with her, occasionally spinning her around and catching her when she inevitably loses her balance; thirdly, that she’s never had this much fun in her life.

She’s laughing freely, not bothered in the least when other people bump into her or grab her hands, and even the loud dance music is making her happy. The world is spinning, and Dani smells amazing, and life is good.

* * *

Eleanor wakes up on an unknown surface with a pounding headache and an intense craving for coffee.

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