5Callum
When Callum arrived at the Vibe, Jared and Kyrone were already sitting with a group of guys at a table, including the guy who had hit on him the night before at the Heaven and Hell Club. The Vibe looked like every other nightclub Callum had been to. The walls, floor, and ceiling were painted black, and coloured lights roved over the dance floor whilst a DJ played songs and tried to stoke up the crowd from a raised platform. The bar area was right by the entrance, encouraging people to spend money the moment they got inside, as if the entry fee hadn’t been steep enough. Rather than paying for the cloakroom, Callum had left his jacket at home and braved the autumnal weather with just a shirt on. He had some cash in his pocket, but nothing else. The club was busy, but not packed. The dance floor was full of gyrating bodies of all genders, shapes, and sizes, but there was plenty of room to sit at tables.
He bought a beer at the bar and then headed over to join Jared and Kyrone. As he approached, Kyrone grabbed a spare chair from an empty table for him. Callum smiled his thanks as he sat down. He sipped at his beer as the guys he was sitting with did their best to talk over the loud, thumping music. It was pretty funny to watch as someone said something, and then half the table had to ask them to repeat it at least three times. Nightclubs weren’t the best place for proper conversations. Although Kyrone tried to introduce him to everyone, most of their names were lost to the noise of the club.
He recognised them all from the Heaven and Hell Club. Even though he’d been stressed about not screwing up his new job on his first night, it had been hard not to notice the dancers that had graced the stage over the course of the night. They’d all put on a spectacular show, some more popular with the punters than others. Most of the guys had been tall and muscly, some bulky enough that they wouldn’t look out of place in a World’s Strongest Man competition.
Gradually, the guys he was sitting with drifted to the dance floor, sometimes alone, sometimes in pairs, until there were only four of them left at the table. Unfortunately, that included the guy who had tried to chat him up. Dylan? Callum was pretty sure that was his name. Predictably, Dylan moved chairs, so they were sitting next to each other.
“We meet again,” he shouted over the music.
Callum did his best to smile but he doubted it came across as polite or sincere. Kyrone glanced at him from the opposite side of the table, eyebrows slightly raised in a questioning manner. Callum replied with a slight shrug. Although he’d never been hit on by a guy before, he was pretty sure he could handle Dylan. It wasn’t as if the dancer was any bigger than him.
They were both a little shorter than average, and both had slender, willowy builds. Dylan’s hair was shaved at the back and sides, but the top was a mass of tight brown curls with blond tips. He was wearing a copious amount of blue eyeshadow and black mascara, which looked heavy around his hazel eyes. He had several piercings in his ears, as well as in his right eyebrow, through the bridge of his nose, his nostril, and snakebite piercings through his lip. He was wearing a skin-tight see-through shirt with the top four buttons undone, and tight leather trousers.
“We got off on the wrong foot last night,” Dylan said in a Cockney accent. “I’m Dylan.” He held his hand out.
It would have been mean not to shake it, so Callum did. “Callum.”
Dylan smirked. “I prefer Tattoo Boy. Nice ink, by the way. Kyrone said your Ezra’s nephew. Did you get it done at Ink Envy?”
Callum shook his head and sipped at his beer.
“You went to a different place?” Dylan sounded shocked. “Doesn’t that make you a traitor?”
Callum hunched his shoulders. “I got my ink done before I moved here.”
He hated that he felt the need to justify himself, when Dylan was the one who was out of order.
“Oh. I guess that’s okay then,” Dylan said. “Do you want to dance?”
“No.”
“I’ll dance with you, Dylan,” Kyrone said, moving to a closer chair.
“You’re taken,” Dylan said. “What would be the point in that?”
“I’m straight,” Callum told him. “What would be the point inusdancing together.”
“Sorry? Didn’t hear that. Too loud.”
“I’m not into guys,” Callum said in a louder voice.
Dylan looked him up and down slowly. The scrutiny made Callum shiver, though he wasn’t sure why.
“There’s plenty of girls on the dance floor. Why aren’t you out there dancing with them?”
“I can’t dance.”
Dylan’s eyes lit up. “I could teach you.”
Callum shook his head and drowned his tetchy response with beer. He put the empty glass on the table and debated going and getting another.
“Why come to a nightclub if you don’t dance?” Dylan pressed. “That’s all they’re good for—dancing and hooking up.”
Why was he there? To make new friends? To feel like he actually had some friends? To do something normal? He picked up his beer glass and stared at the frothy dregs. More alcohol was definitely required.
“I’m going to get another, does anyone want anything?”
