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A few people laugh nervously as the tension crackles in the air like static on an old TV.

Jackson’s cheeks redden more, his eyes going half-lidded as he watches Drew work. His toes curl in his sandals, something that happens to me a lot.Guess we have something in common, huh?

This is way more intense than I expected, and it’s clear that Jackson is experiencing something beyond just awkward discomfort.

Then I see it. At first, it’s so subtle that I think I’m imagining things. But no—Jackson’s toga starts to tent at the crotch, a small peak forming like a mountain in the distance. The fabric stretches slowly, almost lazily, as if it has all the time in the world to reveal what’s underneath.

Holy snickers! Jackson is getting turned on.

The realization hits me like a slap. This isn’t just some innocent game for Jackson; his body is betraying a level of arousal that’s undeniable. And Drew—ever the opportunist—must notice it, too. He doesn’t break eye contact with Jackson, his lips and tongue working Jackson’s finger in a frenzied manner.

The room is dead silent now. No one dares to breathe or move, as if we’re all complicit in this erotic scene and afraid that the slightest sound will shatter it. I can’t tear my eyes away from Jackson’s growing erection, the way it strains against the thin fabric of his toga, demanding attention.

A mix of emotions churns in my gut. I’m fascinated by the sheer audacity of what’s happening; I’m also envious of Drew’s fearless pursuit. And then there’s the deeper, more confusing part—the one that wonders what it would be like if I were in Jackson’s place, feeling another man’s mouth on me for the first time.

“Time!” someone finally shouts, breaking the spell.

Drew releases Jackson’s finger slowly, almost tenderly. A string of saliva briefly connects them before snapping away. Jackson yanks his hand back and looks around the room. Everyone is back to their own conversations, not paying the three of us any mind.

He quickly adjusts his toga, trying to hide the obvious bulge, but it’s too late. Everyone has seen it.

“So, Jackson, how did it feel?” Drew asks as if he didn’t just sexually awaken a man in front of thirty people.

Jackson hesitates. He’s at a crossroads; I can see him weighing whether to play it cool or confess something deeper. “It was…interesting.”

Noncommittal but not dismissive.Smart man.

“Glad you found it stimulating,” Drew replies with a wink.

I expect Jackson to explode, to tell Drew off for making him uncomfortable, or to storm out in a huff. But instead, he nods slowly, seeming to come to terms with something inside himself.

“I think I’ll grab another drink.” Jackson turns away from us and heads toward the kitchen. The crowd parts for him like he’sroyalty—or maybe they’re just scared he’ll smite them with his new sexual confusion.

I look at Drew, who’s positively glowing with triumph. “You’re playing with fire, dude.”

He shrugs. “No risk, no reward.”

I shake my head, unable to hide my smile despite the dicey situation. “You’re a menace, you know that?”

“Yeah, too bad my name isn’t Dennis.”

I punch him lightly on the shoulder and head off to find Elliot. I’m dying to tell him everything.

The chances of him believing me, though? Slim to none.

22

ELLIOT

As far as my eyes can see, sexy cops are grinding on sexy firefighters, sexy nurses are tending to sexy doctors, and sexy Ghostfaces are murdering sexy cheerleaders. The DJ is playing “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic,” and I’m in the corner, dancing like I’m one of thePeanutsgang.

I’ve never been a great dancer. In fact, I would go so far as to say that I was born with two left feet. That’s how terrible I am at synchronizing my body with the beat. But after having several drinks, I don’t care how I look or what people think. All I care about is letting loose and enjoying myself for once.

It’s Halloween. The one night of the year when you can be whoever you want to be. And tonight, I am a bumblebee.

I’m in a black and yellow striped shirt, black leggings I borrowed from Sarah, and an antennae headband. It’s not the craftiest costume, considering what some people came here dressed as, but it is the most comfy.

Right as I’m really grooving to the music, someone bumps into my back. I turn around to find the culprit is a dude in a “This is my Halloween Costume” T-shirt. He leers at me with glassy eyes. “Hey there, bumblebee. Wannapollinate my flower?”