Page 1 of Devour

Was this a gay bar? I never thought to ask where we would be going tonight until after we arrived. Probably should have asked.

After class on Wednesday, I confessed to my friend, Ember, that in our two years at college I never went out and got drunk—not even once. Of course, she decided this meant I must join her and her brother, Asher, in celebrating his twenty-first. The plan had been for us to meet up with a few other friends at a local bar often frequented by college kids. What I did not expect was for that plan somehow turning into us standing inside a packed nightclub. Thumping music and strategically placed lighting—all pinks, purples, and blues—invigorated the darkness. While most people stuck to the dance floor, a cluster of bodies surrounded us while people waited to place drink orders. At the other end of the bar, two girls not in our party were making out. I was not in my element.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” I half-screamed to Ember.

“We just got here,” she yelled over the music. Her tight brown curls moved faster than her head when she turned to look back at me.

“Aren’t you supposed to empty your bladder before drinking?”

Asher responded with a rumbling laugh, waiting for his turn to order. He would not get involved. Instead, he rubbed the back of his neck and disturbed his sandy hair.

“You want us to get something for you?” Ember gestured at the bar as if I could misinterpret her question somehow.

“Sure, something,” I fumbled. “Anything. Makes no difference to me.”

Taking a deep breath, I swerved against currents of people to find the bathrooms on the other side of the building. I didn’t need to go, so much as I needed to take a breath and psych myself up. As a former altar boy, clubbing wasn’t something I ever saw myself doing—mostly because until college I didn’t have any friends who would’ve invited me out. The wildest my church crowd got was from too much soda at the youth dances in the chapel basement, and everyone always left room for Jesus. These days I tried not to let my morals dictate my experiences. I was keeping an open mind.

The pounding music muffled once the bathroom door closed behind me, the decrease in sound helping ever so slightly. Being here wasn’t terrible. I wasn’t the type who could only relax in dark and quiet places. Rather, I always needed some kind of light or noise. But this? It was so much to take in all at once.

While I stood at the sink and gazed at my reflection, one of the dented metal stall doors behind me whipped open with a sharp bang that made me jump. The occupant exited without washing his hands—gross—and then… a second person sauntered out after him. In the mirror, my eyes widened upon realizing what must have ended right before I entered, but I looked down and acted as if I came here to wash my hands. Even with my eyes lowered, I couldn’t tear my attention away. The water ran down the drain while I continued to stare with my mouth agape. I wasn’t judging—honest—merely shocked. People hooking up in a bathroom was still a new one for me, despite living in college dorms the past two years.

He (which I assumed since we were in the men’s room but honestly, I didn’t want to offend) leaned over the sink next to mine. After reapplying some eyeliner from his pocket, he ran a hand through his red hair from the top. My family was full of redheads—a color which I did not inherit—but his shade was unnaturally bright and from-a-box crimson. It suited him. He ruffled his hair with his fingers once more, disturbing the part down the middle and moving the longer hair that fell past his jaw. My eyes swept down the delicately embroidered, sheer button-down top fitted over his slim build, to a pair of matching black skin-tight pants and—

“Can I fucking help you?”

“Sorry,” I mumbled. My cheeks threatened to turn as red as his hair, so I turned off the water with my still-dry hands and walked out. That was sufficiently embarrassing.

Before Ember even greeted me, she passed me a tall glass with some foamy beer, an identical one in her other hand. “Where were you? You took forever.”

“I know. Sorry. I just…” I ended the thought early, not really knowing how to explain myself to her. “Were you waiting for me this whole time?”

“Couple more people showed up so Asher got a table. He sent me to make sure you didn’t get lost or sneak off,” she said with a smug grin.

Sure, not as if all of us have phones or texting exists.

My friends did a wonderful job insinuating my upbringing left me incapable of behaving like a normal twenty-one-year-old. Sheltered? Yes. Isolated from society on a commune? No. I could still function independently, thanks.

Ember led me over to another part of the club and up a set of winding stairs to a balcony overlooking the ground floor. She stopped at a long and low glass table with a black U-shaped sofa, where Asher sat sandwiched between two girls in tight sequined dresses I hadn’t met yet. More than likely, the pair attended a class with him, since they were laughing and discussing a group project. Though knowing Asher, that might be a euphemism.

“He lives,” Asher proclaimed. “Thanks for finally joining us.”

“Happy Birthday!” I raised the glass before sitting across the table from him. Ember made a point of sitting beside me because… well, she always did. She asked me to come here with her, after all—as a friend. Ember leaned into me until her tanned shoulder brushed mine and swept her long hair to the other side before smiling at me. Plenty of room here and she still sat practically on top of me.

The blonde beside Asher nudged his side to get his attention. “Is that everyone?”

“I think so?” Asher said.

Ember shook her head and paused, drinking before speaking. “Still waiting on one more friend. The one who suggested this place. I know you two will get along and now’s my chance to introduce you finally.”

“More chicks? Happy Birthday to me,” Asher chuckled.

“Don’t get your hopes too high,” Ember dismissed in that clearly-the-older-sibling manner. As a mumbled aside, she added, “I don’t know what’s taking him so long.”

Thankfully, I set my glass down before I looked up and saw the same stranger from the bathroom approaching. Once, at the beginning of our friendship, I’d glimpsed Ember’s feed while she sat beside me and aimlessly scrolled social media. He reminded me of someone who could’ve stepped out of her screen because this guy was a walking thirst trap. Not that I found myself thirsty. At that thought, I ducked my head and sipped my beer while said thirst trap sat down on the other side of her.

“Nice to see you finally,” Ember huffed.

“Thanks for having me.” His voice remained calm considering the situation, with a chirpy lilt to it. Maybe he didn’t recognize me.

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