“Yes!” He said, defensively.
Cameron seemed to have a spotlight permanently on him, and Walker wanted to be worthy of his orbit. He tried dancing behind Cameron for a few songs, pulling him close, but Cameron kept spinning around to face him. He didn’t seem like a guy who could be claimed. He just wanted to dance.
Walker did, too. Kind of.
After a few songs, what little energy Walker had had dissipated. He was just shuffling his feet back and forth.
“You doing okay?”
“Yep!” He said.
Luckily for Walker, the opening bars of the next song were a vital shot of adrenaline.
“What song is this?” Cameron asked. His dancing wound down while Walker was just getting started.
“‘Gangsta’s Paradise’!” Walker yelled. “This was my jam in high school!”
He counted down the final beats until Coolio started rapping. His mind went to autopilot as he recited the song word for word. He hit every inflection and every pause. Walker even had his pimp swagger still down. He spun around and pointed at Cameron when the chorus came on.
Cameron shrugged, completely clueless.
So Walker lip-synced that, too. Then he thoughtscrew itand just began singing out loud. The club was so noisy he doubted anybody heard him, and if they did and didn’t sing along, they weren’t worth his time. He gasped for air as every lyric came through a 1995 portal straight out of his mouth. Cameron and the boys around him were still doing their crotch-out mating dances. They were trying to be cool, and he pitied them.
“You’re a dancing machine!” Cameron said, full of snark.
“You can be, too!”
Cameron looked around at the other guys, all scoping each other out. They gave Walker ample side-eye.
“Fuck them!” Walker said. “I guarantee your soulmate is not on this dance floor. You’re allowed to have fun.”
Cameron pretended to be amused, but Walker felt himself breaking through his ubercool façade.
“I’m pointing to you at the chorus again, so get ready!” He built it up, built it up, his swagger getting more exaggerated. He dipped down to the ground, sprung up, and pointed to Cameron as the chorus came on again.
This time, Cameron remembered the words.
They sang their hearts out. Cameron’s smile was irony free. Walker and his friends had never enjoyed clubbing like this. They were always on a mission: drinks, hookups, finding people, ditching people.
They brought it home for the final chorus refrain. Walker used his fist as a microphone. He needed to catch his breath once the song ended. He needed hydration.
“That was kind of amazing.” Cameron leaned in, and Walker caught a whiff of the musky sweat in his hair, as well as the Red Bull and vodka.
Walker cupped his friend’s waist. “Kind of?”
Cameron didn’t push him off, not right away. He shook his glass of ice. “Refill?”
“Water.”
They returned to the bar, now three people deep.
“You hang out over there.” Cameron nodded his head at an empty VIP booth. He stroked Walker’s hand. “I’ll Lewis and Clark my way to the bar.”
Walker sauntered over to the black leather booth, which curved around a table in the corner of the bar. A reserved card stood next to an empty bottle of champagne, yet there was no sign of people. As soon as he sat down, he knew this was a bad idea.
His exhaustion came whooshing back. The sore throat, the heavy eyes, the tired muscles—they were planning their attack. He focused on the moment he and Cameron shared earlier. He held Cameron’s waist. Cameron stroked his hand. It could lead to more. But was that what he wanted? He enjoyed spending time with Cameron, and trying to make a move might muck that up, especially since it couldn’t lead anywhere. He flashed back to waking up in bed and watching Cameron sleeping peacefully beside him. The comforter billowed around their bodies. Pillows cradled their heads. He was on his bed now. Cameron laid beside him. They had his bed in the club. Cameron patted the empty space next to him. Walker spooned him and pulled his warm body close. The bed had wings and flew high above the throngs of guys, over the dance floor. Dancers tried to grab at it, but they couldn’t reach it. Some began throwing their glasses. Walker shielded Cameron from the orbs of propelled glass. He ordered the bed to take them higher, and the bed complied. The roof of the club burst off the walls like opening a gift box. They sailed into the quiet, black sky, nestled against each other, fingers interlaced, the houses beneath them tiny specks of civilization…
“Walker.”
