1
Isaac
I was going to hell.Miss Diva D. Light usually worked a crowd like nobody’s business, but tonight she’d been staring right at me through her entire number, and even though I’dpromisedmyself I wouldn't this time, all the superheated, undivided attention had gotten me hard.
I squirmed in my seat, not daring to reach down and adjust in the middle of such a swanky venue, and she winked at me, spread her thighs wide, and thrust her hips in my direction, because ofcourseshe’d seen.
“Shoot,” I mumbled, grabbing the drink in front of me and chugging it for my sanity. Except, gross. I kept forgetting it was only lime juice and soda water because Jules had told me not to drink tonight.
Well, lime juice, soda water, and a cherry because Jules had apparently thought it was funny to tell the waitstaff to make sure my drinks were never without one.
I popped it out and bit into it.
Ugh, I hated him a little bit right now. The kind of hate that I’d usually spend a good twenty minutes working out in the shower after he went to sleep, if we’d been back at our flat.
About a million years ago, when Jules had first started learning to tuck and figuring out who Diva was, I'd thought seeing him with boobs and hips would give me a respite from all the unrequited yearning I’d spent half my life trying to hide from him, but no such luck. It didn't matter that I'd never been attracted to boobs before, or that Jules’ insanely sexy slim shape was totally transformed by Diva’s curves. It didn’t matter if he was wearing a ten-stone wig and six-inch platforms or a plastic bag from Tesco. I'd still want him. I’dalwayswant him. And even if he was telling everyone I was his boyfriend this weekend so we could take advantage of the plus-one perk that had come with the performance gig he’d been hired for, the truth was that all I was ever going to do was want him.
Not have him.
Being hopelessly in love with your best friendsucked.
“She’sa piece, isn’t she?” one of the much-cuter-than-me guys who’d sat at my table said, elbowing me in the side. “I think she likes you.”
“She loves me,” I mumbled, blushing hard and wishing it was true in a way it never would be.
I’d figured out that Jules was too fabulous for me way back in Year Six. For some reason, he’d insisted on befriending me anyway, and hedidlove me. He said so all the time, and we’d been inseparable for the last fifteen years, but if I’d ever needed proof that he didn’t secretly yearn for me, too, the fact that he’d specifically dragged me here (ha!) to help me finally lose my virginity to someone else would have done it.
“Never thought I’d see drag at The Luxe,” another guy at the table said, sucking on a pink drink like it was something dirty. He caught me looking, and I blushed, but not before he winked at me. “It’s a good look for the place.”
Jules—and Diva—was a good look foranyplace. The guy had a point, though. I’d been to tons of Diva’s drag shows before, but never one like this. Never one in a posh Soho hotel with gold-plated everything and crystal chandeliers hanging in the tapestry-draped ballroom… a ballroom that was currently filled to capacity with a fabulous, eclectic mix of Daddies, boys, leather, lace, and of course, more drag queens and platform heels than a casting call for Kinky Boots.
By the looks on the staffs’ faces, I’d bet the guy was right. It had to be a first for the swanky hotel.
I giggled, thinking of the startled looks we’d all received from the other hotel guests in the lobby on our way in, but screw them. The Luxe had been booked by a kinky dating app for the weekend event, and we came with it.
Not thatIwas kinky.
I grabbed my stupid drink again, sucking on it in desperation as my nerves flared over the thought of what Jules had planned for me later.
Diva was strutting onto the catwalk that jutted out into the middle of the room, looming over us like a glittering goddess, and even though we were all honestly a little out of place in that ballroom,shestill looked like she owned the place. Me, on the other hand? Even if, technically, she was probably the only one who’d even noticed I was there, I felt like everyone could tell that Ireallydidn’t belong.
I wasn’t a Daddy or a drag queen. The only leather I wore was on my shoes, and I was pretty sure that was fake. I hardly evenknewany other gay people, aside from the ones I’d met when Jules had brought me along to his other drag performances. Even on those rare occasions, though, I’d mostly stayed back in the dressing room with the other queens, out of the way and too anxious to really talk to anyone.
The disco beat finally died down, and a roar of applause followed Diva as she stepped off the stage with a flurry of air kisses and two big fistfuls of cash… and of course, because shewasmy best friend, she sashayed right toward me.
“You can have a seat right here, beautiful,” one of the men at my table said, leering at her as he spread his legs and patted his thigh.
“Not even if you promised to fly me to America and grant me a personal audience with Meghan and Harry,” Diva said without pausing, wedging her hip onto the table in front of me and turning her back on him without a second look. She gave me a glittering smile that made my stupid heart swoon, dropping the wad of crumpled pound notes onto my lap. “These Daddies are tipping the house down tonight. Be a dear and hold onto this for me, sweetie? I’ve run out of room in my bra, and I sure as hell can’t leave all this cash backstage.”
She reached into her cleavage to pull out more cash without giving me a chance to reply, but this wasJules. Well, Diva. My answer was always yes.
“Right, of course, um, I’ve got it,” I said, trying to keep up and tuck it in my pockets and angle my legs just right so she didn’t notice my current state.
She smelled amazing.
She looked amazing.
Shewasamazing.
