The Lounge.

  An iconic underground venue for the nightlife knocking just outside of the inner city. Home to an array of patrons. Renowned for its lively entertainment, luxurious atmosphere, and fares.

  It was no pce for sycophantic teenagers.

  Yet Liam and the not-so-humble gathering Quinn assembled were lined up like eager beggars, huddled against the [21:00] chill. They chattered amongst themselves as the line moved forward, excitement and rebellion coursing through their veins, knowing that they had their lucky charm. If the owner wasn't his Uncle, there would be no chance in hell they'd get in. That was exactly why they continued to praise Liam, and why he wore a tight smile. There were more people than he anticipated. More unknown variables to account for. Those he knew intimately understood that this wasn't the pce for uproarious shenanigans, and that a certain degree of decorum was expected. The others...he just prayed they would follow suit.

  Holding a party at his house - which he would have much preferred - was a little different than milking family connections. Don't get him wrong, he needed this outing as much as the next, but it could have waited one more day. Quinn had been adamant about celebrating "right away" with "no take backsies". And, well, he was obligated to make it up to her. Dealing with his Uncle ter would be worthwhile.

  Liam kept a diligent watch on everyone even as they entered the establishment. The atmosphere hit his senses like a bullet train while his eyes strained to adjust. Dim neon lighting lined the walls in a velvety shade of plum and wine red that complimented the pink lights that illuminated the several stages around the room. Scantily dressed dancers flowed with the retro-futuristic vibes of the music, which pyed loud enough to drown out most conversations. Their servers and bartenders were on par with the theme, as well. It certainly earned those five-star ratings. The strobe lights, extravagant murals, and constant stimuli captivated everyone's attention.

  They were brought to a deep half-moon booth in a far corner, one beled VIP but fgged as 'non-approachable' at Liam's request. Listen, he wasn't trying to age-trap these poor workers. It was bad enough that they would be allowed to drink on the premises. That much he couldn't take credit for. Underage drinking was the least of his Uncle's worries when there was word that workers could be rented. Thinking about it made his skin crawl, but he didn't dare contest the man when he also took advantage of certain benefits. Not to mention the other assets of the business that his mother protected.

  "Fucking cheers to the best dude around!" Hazel eyes drew away from one the dancers to acknowledge the one saluting him. He remained indifferent but held his drink up nonetheless. Quinn was quick to nudge him.

  "Don't worry. It'll be a good night!"

  He didn't doubt that.

  A faint vibration came from his phone, which had been id face down on the table. The message would undoubtedly be from his mother.

  [Birthgiver] No sooner than 1

  Called it.

  An innocuous text to everyone but him. He responded with 'K' then emptied his gss in a swift motion. A few of the girls appuded him, whooped and raised their thumbs.

  "Good start, Germain. Let's get this Friday night started —"

  "Speaking of, you gonna do something tomorrow?"

  Their voices overpped in a way that annoyed him. "Maybe."

  Chances were: there absolutely would be a party tomorrow. Per routine, it would serve to erase the scum left behind tonight.

  Pitchers of alcohol were brought to the table, ranging from fruity cocktails to borderline illegal quantities of vodka. One contained so little mixer that he questioned why they hadn't just served the bottle itself. He knew why. It was just in case. Better to have a bunch of teenagers look like they were drinking fruit punch than liquor, he supposed was the logic.

  Another round of drinks were enjoyed amidst the chatter and celebration before someone finally suggested pying a game. Conveniently in time for Cassidy and her partner to arrive. Liam's eyes narrowed at Quinn for a split second. There would be no apology for more guests as the trio of women ogled the male dancer closest to them. Expecting anything less was on him.

  "Oh! Right, game. No cards...let's spin the bottle!"

  The guys collectively disagreed, much to the girls' disappointment.

  "Okay, geniuses, what do you suggest?" Cassidy chirped as she waited for an answer, from anyone.

  The silence lingered for a moment too long for Liam's comfort, so he suggested, "Truth or Dare". A stipution was quickly added by one of the girls. "Being a pussy means you gotta drink!"

  Quinn immediately approved, and shared to the group that it made sense to py something of his choosing. They were there to celebrate him. To celebrate the boy not remaining reclusive for their senior year. It would be insulting if he didn't understand the redhead's intentions. She cared about that. The others were just happy to have an excuse to drink on a Friday night.

  Since it was his suggestion, the age-old question was turned to him. He pondered vacuously and crossed his legs, feigning interest. "I suppose we'll start light. Truth." A few boos resonated.

  "Mm — what's it like to be rich? Like actually rich."

  "What a boring question, Andi." Cassidy rolled her eyes then motioned around the room. "I think you can tell what it's like."

  Liam found amusement in the way the blonde defended him, sort of. "You can't take the question back," he noted, "I'd say it's pretty ckluster."

  "Must be nice."

  The game continued to be rather uneventful until the third round came. The booze was working its magic, and people were beginning to feel more adventurous. Since the crowd was already familiar with one another, they wasted no time upping the ante. A few dares had garnered the attention of The Lounge's creepier clientele; precisely why he requested they be fgged. The staff couldn't have cared less about fshing body parts when select dancers were entirely uncd at this hour, so it was on his shoulders - drunk or not - to make sure things didn't 'leave the booth'. His position at the end of their arrangement was for everyone's security. And, more importantly, his peace of mind.

  Cassidy's dare wrapped up, and it was Liam's turn once more. It came as no surprise that he was being voluntold to take a Dare. He didn't want to bother. This is dumb. The brunet pouted as he hazily gnced around the table. His neck was already warm from the alcohol and his skin buzzed under the yers of clothing. Since he wasn't allowed to return home yet, he had to wear what he had on.

  Liam conceded despite his better judgment.

  Everyone exchanged daring looks that made him squirm in his seat. They knew he wouldn't be as uptight as his usual self. Meaning they could manipute him better. It was written on their faces. Clear as day. But knowing that subconsciously did nothing to protect him.

  "Having you shed a few yers seems...too obvious."

  Murmurs of agreement were nothing but static in his ears.

  "Why don't you —- kiss Quinn!" The suggestion was met with mixed reactions that sparked another conversation.

  "Yeah, like you guys have been besties forever. There's got to be some feelings there...But you gotta do it properly. Not smooching."

  A part of him was desperate to crawl out of the booth and find cover. Beyond how invasive they were being, there was just no way that he'd kiss Quinn. Fuck. Fuck. Why did they have to pick his best friend of all people? He decided to reach for his gss, to forfeit the dare, but was intercepted. An awkward look was exchanged between them. Her lip was caught between her teeth, and the spectrum of emotions she felt colored her eyes a darker shade. He couldn't tell exactly what she was thinking. She knew he was gay. Gay as in RuPaul and Heartstopper were his comfort shows while hiding in the closet. So whatever this was on her end...he couldn't understand it.

  Quinn grabbed him by the colr, shifted onto her knees, and began to lean in. He could have sworn it was happening in slow motion, like some fucked up horror movie pying out right in front of him. The group was already whooping. Thank god for the loud music thumping in the bar, otherwise he might die of embarrassment. This was horrifying.

  So, he panicked.

  They wanted to see him kiss a girl. Fine. He would do just that, but not with Quinn.

  Liam acted on impulse. He pushed away from his friend and practically unched himself at the young server in passing. Shaking hands cupped her jaw as their lips met, leaving little to be witnessed by the noisy crowd. The kiss was superficial at first, as he intended while expecting to be met with justifiable resistance. He even braced himself to be struck across the cheek. After all, he was doing the very thing he hated having done to him: being touched by a stranger. It's what made sense.

  But, that didn't happen.

  He wasn't sure what made the woman indulge this little spur of the moment, nor did he care. It pacified his company from the sounds of it. And in truth, he found it enjoyable. The few seconds their lips kept tempo had brought his pulse right to his ears. Goosebumps traced along his arms, and he'd be damned if he hadn't felt something flutter in his stomach. The intensity - that confusing spark between them - made him question his sexuality. Briefly. The booze was surely to bme.

  Liam had cast his eyes downward as they pulled away, not yet wanting to acknowledge what he had done. Guilt quickly repced the pleasant feeling in his gut. All for a drunken dare. It was ridiculous! What had he done?

  "Holy shit, Liam..." Cassidy and a handful others scoffed into ughter.

  Their voices grounded him enough that he mustered the courage to look at the server, an apology ready at the tip of his tongue. The expression he was met with silenced him instantly. It was nothing shy of mortification, and the poor girl wasted no time running off upon seeing his face. For a moment, he felt disappointed. He hadn't been able to get a good look at her; if he wanted to return, he wouldn't have a clue who to ask for. When he sat again, he refused to look anyone in the eye. The only thing worthy of his attention was a half-empty pitcher.

  "Um. So. Who's next?" The question came off as awkward.

  The air between him and Quinn was palpable, like he could cut with a fucking spoon. He wanted to show her sympathy, truly, but her actions - her intentions - were just humiliating as his own. The leap he took to appease her earlier morphed into regret. A promise had been shredded and funted above a fire that she knew better than to start in the first pce. Sober or not, that boundary was never to be crossed again. Now he had to endure the prying gnces of her friends for the rest of the night. Her friends, of whom were practically chomping at the bit to delve into the drama. It was sickening.

  The brunet excused himself from the game after another round made it to him. He was fucked up. Desperate for a moment alone. So, he headed towards the restrooms. He made a pit stop at the bar to pay their tab and request rides for everyone. Three hours had passed. They had their fun. It was time to call it before anything else got out of hand.

  His emotions were a mangled mess of drunken bliss, grief, and creeping apathy. All of those steady sips of isnd-inspired concoctions weren't helping. He had a reputation to uphold. Two, actually. None of which painted him as vulnerable. A stone cold heartthrob and some doormat rich boy. That's what he was to them. That's all he was to them.

  The taste of coconut rum burned the back of his throat as he entered the restroom. A trembling palm was the only barrier between his quivering lips and an unfortunate sensation. He barely had time to lock the stall behind him. Normally, he could choke it down. Ignore it. But his stomach was weak after not eating all day.

  "I—I know, please. Don't hang up yet." A hushed voice entered the restroom, the creak of the door echoing behind it. It was too faint for him to recognize, but clear enough for him to eavesdrop. Which he unintentionally did given that he didn't want to be caught dead walking out of stall after throwing up.

  "I'm begging you. I get paid next Thursday...I-I'll have something extra after tonight. Just...please..." Their voices cracked in a way that managed to break his heart. "Mom, please. Don't do this. I will give you everything this week and next. I've already paid gram's — No."

  The sound of the call ending was followed by hard sobs that pyed out for several minutes.

  It wasn't his pce to feel anything for the person on the other side of that stall. They weren't his problem. Their life did not affect his. So why...why were tears dripping from his chin? What right did he have to cry? To rete to anyone's plight? He held his hands over his mouth until there was nothing but silence once more, assuming that silence meant it was safe to exit.

  How wrong he was.

  His reddened eyes grew double their size. The person staring back at him was the girl he had kissed. No. That wasn't right. Or was it? No...There was no way. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and spped himself back to reality. Except they were still there, and were very much the same person. They weren't a hallucination. The bck tresses that framed their face hid the prominent jawline that he felt before. At a gnce, their makeup concealed exactly what it needed to and enhanced everything else. His lingering gaze continued in an attempt to make sense of something he couldn't comprehend. The voice he heard was male, without a doubt. Still, he refrained from passing any judgements. There were nuanced circumstances that could be at py, and he would be the st person in the world to offend someone that way.

  "I'm — I'm so sorry. For everything."

  The other person ughed uncomfortably. It was a tad obvious that they were having a simir experience as him at that moment.

  They rigidly shook their head as they backed away and left.

  Liam didn't loiter after the encounter. Instead, he spshed himself with cold water and headed back to the table. The group immediately showered him with false concern, to which they would receive no response. He finished his gss where he stood, refilled it, and repeated the cycle until the pitcher was empty. When finished, he threw several bills onto the table for their server's tip and left without a word.

  Stumbling into the eerie darkness of his home had brought him great comfort. It was quiet. Tranquil. No assholes, no expectations. All he had to do was make it up the stairs. And, since he had checked the time before calling an Uber, he believed that everything would be fine. He could make his feeble attempts in peace. To his dismay, his mother stood at the bottom of the stairwell.

  "What a pathetic child you are." She drawled.

  Liam paused, resting his throbbing head against the cool stone, his chest vibrating as he slurred his response.

  "What a pathetic mother you are."