“Yeah, it’s probably a good idea to stay together,” he responded.Knowing Celeste, Blake couldn’t agree more.They made their way to the spot that Celeste had staked out underneath the metal archway that the strobe lights were suspended on.
Celeste was holding both of Ryan’s hands, pumping them up and down in excitement as they encouraged him to dance to the beat.Ryan tucked his chin into his shoulder in embarrassment, laughing through his words.
“I don’t dance, I can’t dance!”he was saying, even as Celeste turned their back towards him and began to shake and roll their ass to the beat.“Celeste!”
“That’s bullshit, I’ve seen you at emo night at Fang Bangers!”Blake called out to Ryan.
“You aren’t drunk enough!”Celeste decreed; they turned to Blake.“None of us are drunk enough!”
“I’m fine, I’ve had enough to drink,” Marin told Celeste, who made a great show of rolling their eyes.
“You’ve had one shot and two sips of a lava flow—fucking laaame!Go start me a tab!”Celeste yelled at Blake over the chorus of a Lil Nas X song.They pressed a credit card into his hand and shoved him towards the bar.“Get me a Zombie!”
“Jesus, pushy!”Blake complained, accepting the card.
“I’mpaying!”
Blake rolled his eyes and then looked at Ryan.“You want anything?”
“Whisky sour!”Ryan told him.
“Oh my God, you’re a fucking grandpa!”Celeste snapped, grabbing his hands and planting them on their hips.“Get yourself whatever,” they told Blake, more as an afterthought.
“On second thought, I’ll go with you,” Marin told him.
The two fought their way towards the bar underneath a violet neon sign.A bartender with a bright-red side cut and spider bites was pouring rainbow shots out of a bridge of shakers, much to the delight of a group of drunken twinks.As soon as the group disbanded, the bartender beckoned Blake and Marin forward.
“What can I get you guys?”he asked, dark eyes flickering up and down Marin.
“A Zombie, a Pabst, and a whisky sour,” Blake told him.
“Can’t do a sour, I don’t have any eggs,” the bartender told him.“Sorry.I can make you something better, though.”
He reached out over the bar to take up a lock of Marin’s hair in-between his thumb and forefinger.“Do you like it dry and bitter?”
Something awful prickled up Blake’s spine at the small act of familiarity.
“Sorry, it’s not for me,” Marin told the bartender, pulling away.
“Oh?Let me try and change your mind, then.”The bartender smirked and turned towards the shelf, grabbing a long, thin bottle markedCrème de Violette.He tossed it over his shoulder—sending it spinning up towards the ceiling—then turned around languidly.He grabbed a shaker whilst the bottle was midair and caught the twirling spirit behind his back as it began to descend.
He prepared the drink with apparent ease: ingredients disappearing into the shaker along with the violette.He shook with a flourish—winking at Marin as he did—and strained the drink, taking extra care to drop a Maraschino cherry into the bottom.
“Aviation Number One,” the bartender said, pushing the drink across the countertop with a quick swipe of a cocktail napkin along the rim.“It matches your hair.”
“Thanks,” Marin told him, smile polite.
“We’re opening a tab, actually.Under Celeste.”Blake cut in, voice a bit gruffer than he had intended.God damn it, he didn’t want to get kicked out for being petty with the bar guy over a drink.
“No problem,” the bartender shrugged and turned back to the shelf.“Just to let you know we have a two-Zombie-per-person policy.”
“That’s fine.”Blake shrugged.He glanced over at Marin anxiously, only to find that he was grinning and bouncing in time to the song playing.
Thank God, Blake thought.Experiencing jealousy over a partner was something he had always been uncomfortable with.At the very least, Marin wasn’t bothered by his responses.He was reminded of the “worthy of his love” condition of the pygmalion thing—and getting all shitty and jealous over a simple flirtation wasn’t something a lovable person did.
Not that it was a problem thatMaringot jealous, Blake supplied in silence.It only applies to me.
As they took their drinks back to the dance floor, Blake’s mind crept back towards the conditions of the pygmalion situation.Overtaken with sudden anxiety, he checked the time—it was five minutes past midnight.Marin only had a little over forty-eight hours left.Blake watched as Marin passed the drinks over to Celeste and Ryan, all calm smiles and excited nods.Blake took an anxious swig of his beer.
