Page 25 of The Golden Boy's Guide to Bipolar
Hunter glances at me before continuing a little faster, like he thinks I’ll be annoyed or something, “I mean, like, he’s done this part already. If you know what I mean.” He stumbles over his words a bit, and a little tingle of panic rushes blood to my ears. Hunter’s not exactly being subtle, and I don’t know Sasha like that.Did he see Hunter look at me before adding the caveat about Sasha already being out?
I push the panic down, and a small pit of jealousy swells up in its place. I wonder if Sasha feels comfortable with being the official queer moral support of the night.
Jamal looks at Sasha apologetically and asks what I’m thinking. “Did you know what you were getting yourself into when Hunter invited you?” He gestures at the Bible-themed drinks menu.
“Honestly, I wasn’t loving the idea at first, but he showed me your picture, so obviously I had to make an exception,” he says with a flirty smile that makes my insides churn.
“I don’t understand,” Jamal says, the line clearly going right over his head. “Do we know each other from somewhere?”
I try not to visibly gloat at Jamal not picking up on what Sasha’s doing. Jamal rarely says he doesn’t understandme. Sasha has game, but it’s a shame there’s no spark. How sad for him.
“You’re cute.” Sasha laughs. “No, we don’t know each other. I just thought you were hot enough to try and fix that.”
I don’t want to hear Jamal’s response to that, so I quickly shake away the jealousy and go to the counter to order an iced caramel mocha, Jamal’s favorite. Sasha may be hot, but does he know Jamal’s favorite coffee order? I think not.
God, I’m annoying myself. Why am I even jealous? I already told Jamal we can’t get back together. Who cares if Sasha likes him? It has nothing to do with me either way.
I hurry and pay for the caramel mocha while some white dude with a guitar gets set up at the mic. As soon as Jamal’s drink isready, I grab it and head to the table where the three of them are sitting now.
“Thanks, Cesar,” Jamal says when I hand him his coffee. “You didn’t want anything?”
“Stomach hurts,” I answer honestly. It’s the anxiety, I think. Why I’m anxious when Jamal’s the one performing is beyond me. Still, I’m not really in the mood to drink caffeine and have yet another reason to stay awake tonight.
Jamal nods his understanding before leaving me alone with Hunter and Sasha to go find the sign-up sheet.
“So how do you all know each other?” Sasha asks.
“School,” I say flatly.
“Cesar and I went to Slayton together last year, but before that, he went to the same school as Jamal, so he introduced us,” Hunter clarifies.
Sasha leans forward, propping his elbows on the table like he’s about to share a secret. “So, Cesar, I have to know, is Jamal single? Hunter couldn’t tell me.”
“Yeah.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “But I don’t know if he’s looking right now,” I find myself saying. Which isn’t really fair of me. I have no right to keep Jamal from dating whoever he wants now. Still, being his wingman isn’t exactly a skill I was prepared to hone.
“I’m fifth in the lineup.” Thankfully, Jamal cuts the conversation short when he comes back to our table. He’s holding a couple pieces of paper in his hands with his poems written on them. I can’t help but notice the slight tremble of the paper in the air, which makes whatever annoyance I had completely dissipate.
“You’re gonna do great,” I say, offering Jamal a reassuring smile. He lets out a breath and sits down next to me.
Before we know it, the MC is announcing the rules of the open mic: Each performer has five minutes on stage, no disrespecting each other, no heckling, etc. etc. etc. Just as they’re about to introduce the first performer, someone pushes their way forward, stealing the mic from whoever was about to go first. I don’t get a good look at his face until he turns his cap backward.
My stomach drops. My fists tighten. My ears ring.
Someone’s trying to usher him off the stage, telling him there’s a set order, but he just ignores them and shouts into the mic, holding it so close to his mouth he’s practically making out with it. “Hello, my name is Nick, and my pronouns are fuck and you!”
I quickly scan the room for any sign of the rest of his entourage, but only see Avery. Thinking about it now, I shouldn’t be surprised Nick’s here, considering how close we are to his and Jamal’s neighborhood. This might actually be the right kind of crowd for his whole anti-pronouns spiel, too, if it weren’t for him breaking the rules first.
“Oh, great. It’s gonna bethatkind of night,” Sasha says under his breath.
Even Nick’s little minion Avery looks embarrassed, trying to signal for him to leave from off the stage. Nick spouts some bullshit for another few seconds before Avery joins him on stage and tries pulling him off.
“One Holy Grail for Nick!” the barista calls out, and Nick finally lets Avery lead him to the counter.
The useless MC then apologizes to everyone and introduces the actual first performer. The musician starts singing a love song thatmakes me feel way too mushy. I want to grab Jamal by the hand and take him away from this place. Away from Nick and Avery and Sasha, and just bring him somewhere safe. I’m about to ask if he wants to bail since Nick and Avery showed up, but before I get a chance, a hot drink spills right in my lap.
I jump to my feet and find myself face-to-face with Nick.
“Whoa, not cool, dude,” Hunter says as he grabs for some napkins across the table.
