Thirteen
GREG
Greg Harlow stands behind the bar, a couple weeks later, stirring a cocktail with joie de vivre.
He doesn’t even know why that’s the first term that comes to mind as the ice and alcohol swirl around inside the rocks glass to the beat of a tune only he can hear. Maybe it’s because Julien’s last name is Boire, which is French as fuck, and French kissing has been on his mind as of late.
In terms of their sex pact, they haven’t quite made it as far as kissing. They may never make it that far. He is okay with that. If he gets to keep witnessing Julien’s beautiful mouth dropping open and his toes curling in ecstatic orgasm, then he can’t complain about the way things are going.
He especially can’t complain because happy hour is packed. “Butter Me Up bourbon old-fashioned for the gentleman.” Greg pours out his special concoction—one he’s been mastering for a full week. This new recipe included roasting cubed butternut squash and then infusing his bourbon with it over time. Once it was strained and bottled, all he needed to add was some maple flavoring and the bitters. Delicious.
Julien was the first to try it. No, he didn’t drink it. Greg didn’t expect him to, but Julien sipped, tasted, and spit. He commented on the flavor profile. They even made notes together.
This is unusual for Greg. He’s never let anyone in on his cocktail creation process, but their collaboration in the bedroom yields such spectacular results that he couldn’t resist seeing what else they could shake up together. Greg caught all of this on camera, of course. At night, before bed, he’ll replay those joint TikToks on a loop, getting goose bumps over their banter and how incisive Julien’s critiques are.
“I saw you and the wine guy making this one on my TikTok For You page and knew I had to come in and get one right away,” the bald Black man in the denim jacket says to Greg before taking a sip. Greg takes immense pleasure in the way the man’s eyes light up with pleasure at a single taste. “Damn, that’s good.”
“Thank you,” Greg says.
“Let me try,” says his partner, a white woman no taller than five foot zero who has one knee up on the barstool. When she sips, she gets the same look in her eyes. “Worth the hour-long drive for sure.”
“You drove an hour to be here?” Greg asks, incredulous, leaning in closer to hear better. Not to pat himself on the back, but this place is crowded for a Thursday night.
Over the last three weeks, he’s watched attendance along with his TikTok views soar. Now he never posts without Julien, and he’s noticed the comments section has grown chattier.
Who’s the tall guy? What’s his @?
This is TOOOOOOOO CUUUUUUUUUTE!
Their chemistry is goals
It’s giving shaken NOT stirred ;)
*Indecipherable emojis*
*Decipherable emojis* *Mostly eggplants*
Everybody knows...everybody knows...he fucks you, wrote another, referencing an old viral TikTok sound. Greg didn’t bother deleting it because it was completely true. He was fucking Julien with regularity. Maybe not with his penis exactly, but he is opening his eyes to all the different ways two people can have sex—no erection necessary.
“We did,” says the Black man, who introduces himself as Andre. “We consider ourselves cocktail connoisseurs.”
The woman—Magda—punches him lightly in the arm. “He’s exaggerating. This is part of our job.”
Greg grows nervous, pretends to blot his forehead with a rag. “Jeez. Didn’t know I was about to be graded.”
“We’re very easy to impress,” Andre says before a hearty laugh.
“Speak for yourself,” Magda says. “He is. I’m a stickler. I like my cocktails more traditional, but this? This is something I can get behind. That maple flavor. Mmm-hmm. It’s like Thanksgiving in a glass. Heaven. Get me one of my own, please.”
“Coming right up.” Greg gets to work. “What do you two do?”
“We’ve already said too much,” Andre says, a speckling of humor with a dash of mystery. “But seriously, compliments to the creator.”
When Greg is finished, Andre and Magda cheers and drink.
“I can’t take all the credit,” Greg says, grabbing Julien as he comes out from the back with more infused bourbon. “My coworker Julien came up with the idea for the maple. Really brought the whole thing together.”
Julien smiles. “You forgot the candied orange peels.” He reaches under the counter for a mason jar and fastens the garnish to the customers’ glasses.
