Curtis’s eyebrows lifted so high it was like they were trying to escape his face.
“Does that make zero sense?” Sal asked. They tried to make it sound like an off-the-cuff comment, but it came out well insecure.
His eyes softened. “I’m sorry. I can tell you mean it, but it’s hard to get my head around.”
“I get that,” Sal said, feeling stupidly, embarrassingly, reassured. Someone behind them let out a feminine shout of laughter, and for the first time since they’d clapped eyes on Curtis, Sal wondered if they should have just pretended to not know him and run away. This was turning into way too much. Then, Curtis raised the rum and coke he’d been holding to his mouth, and they reacknowledged his full, beautiful lips.
Fuck it, I can handle this, Sal thought, taking a mega chug of beer.I need mints, though. Mints and condoms and…
“So, how long have you…?” Curtis trailed off as though he was too scared to say ‘non-binary’ wrong.
“Identified this way? Ages. Everyone knows. Byron knows.”
Sal could have kicked themselves. They’d evolved beyond using their big brother’s support to validate their choices. At least, they weresupposedto have done that.
“That’s cool,” Curtis said. “Byron being supportive and stuff. And I’ve got no issues; I’m just trying to work everything out in my brain.”
“That’s fair. Especially if I’m the first enbie you’ve ever met.”
“You are.”
He said it like it was something special, something interesting and new. They smiled at each other, and again, Sal felt the flicking heat of attraction.
He moved closer, bowing his head to ask quietly. “Am I, uh, still allowed to think you’re beautiful?”
Woah, Nelly.Sal was a little dazed by both the question and the sincerity in his voice. “I… Yes. I like that.”
“Cool.”
Curtis held their gaze for a beat too long, and they both looked away, smirking into their drinks. Sal was about to suggest they head somewhere a little more private, then the thought struck them: what was Curtis Ingram doing at Pyramid? It was a Melbourne institution but only in certain circles, and Curtis vibed about as queer as a kitchen chair.
“Did you come here with someone?” Sal asked. “A… partner or…?”
He stopped smiling, the nervous lamb look returning to his face. “Honestly?”
Shit.
“Sure.” Sal tensed for whatever fucked up answer Curtis Ingram was about to give. Probably that he was married to some girl who also bullied Sal in high school, or had shown up specifically to punch someone in the back of the head. “Always go with honesty.”
He looked away, blinking hard. “Well, if we’re being honest… I follow you on Instagram and I saw you were dancing here tonight and I, uh, thought that, uh, like I said, I always had acrush on you and, uh… fuck, I told you I’m not good at this stuff…”
Sal gaped at Curtis. The blindsided feeling was back, strong as a strike across the face. If they’d recognised Curtis, they would have been shocked he was following them, let alone that he’d come to a horny party to watch their performance. “I… That’s kind of… Did you like the show?”
He rocked back on his heels and let out a little whistle. “Oh yeah. You’re fucking amazing. So sexy.”
I like him.
The clarity of the thought was almost as shocking as the fact he’d come to Pyramid. But they didn’t want to analyse it. Didn’t want to think through the implications beyond the fact they were at a horny party with the hottest dude they’d seen in a long time and he thought they were beautiful. Sal grabbed Curtis’ hand, and his eyes went wide.
“Are you fine with me being non-binary?” they demanded. “Like, you’ll call me by my pronouns? “They’ instead of ‘her’ and all that?”
“Of course!”
“Great. Wanna hook up?”
Curtis looked like he could hardly believe his eyes. “Here, you mean?”
“Yup. Right here.”
