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Just as I was about to step away and let Jamie do his thing, the door creaked open again, and two more kids shuffled inside.
One was tall, thin as a rail, with a mop of bleached hair and an expression that radiated chaos. He was wearing a crop top that said, “BOY BYE,” in rhinestones, and immediately, I knew Mike was going to have his hands full.
The other was a boy about the same age, shorter, with perfectly shaped brows that might’ve been made of mascara and an earring that caught the light when he tilted his head. They stopped just inside the doorway, scanning the space like they were looking for an audience.
The blond one clicked his tongue. “Wow. This is sad.”
The other one sighed dramatically. “I know. I was hoping for more drag queens and dance music.”
Mike looked up from his pile of name tags and muttered, “Oh, Jesus Christ.”
The blond twink gasped and clutched his chest. “Did Jesus show up? I thought this was an LGBT meeting, not a church lock-in.”
The second one snorted, flipping his hair over his shoulder. “I knew this would be a drag, but at least we’ll be the hottest ones here.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
Mateo, sitting behind the snack table, just arched a brow. “You two done?”
Blondie gasped again, clutching his chest. “Oh my God, he’s hot.”
Mike covered his face with his hand. “I can’t do this.”
Mateo smirked, waving a name tag at them. “If you two divas plan on staying, at least take these.”
“That’s Queen Diva, thank you very much, you luscious hunk of man.”
“Name tag. Now,” Mateo said in his no-nonsense coach voice.
The blond walked over and snatched a name tag, flipping his hair. “Fine—but only because I look good in name tags.”
His friend grabbed one, too, then gave Mateo a sultry smile. “If you ever tire of playing it straight, call me.”
Mateo just blinked. “I’m literally gay.”
“Oh, this is fun.” Blondie clapped. “ I totally see why you’re at the table. You can bemysnack anytime.”
Mike muttered to himself, “This is my karma.”
“Boys, this one night, you get to be whoever you like. Tomorrow, I’m Coach Ricci or Mr. Ricci, and I am no one’s snack. Got it?”
Both boys blinked, their smug grins falling before flaring back to life. Then the blond said, “So tonight? You’ll be my snack? I’m too young for anything longer, so this works.”
The other boy gave him a terribly misplaced high five, and they giggled their way to the other side of the room.
By the time the next few kids arrived, the room had developed a bizarre but weirdly functional energy.
A girl arrived, the only one of the night, so nervous she practically curled into herself when she stepped inside. She hovered near the entrance, shifting from foot to foot, gripping the strap of her bag like it was a lifeline.
Mike opened his mouth—probably to welcome her, ease her nerves—but before he could, one of the twinks, the one with the nose ring, pranced over and grabbed her hand.
“Oh, my God, a lesbian!” he declared, yanking her into the room like he’d just found a rare Pokémon.
Her eyes went wide.
I half expected her to bolt, but then Nose Ring grabbed her other hand, holding on to her hand like they were lifelong besties.
“So tell me,” he purred as they sat. He kicked his legs up onto the chair beside him. “What’s actually the deal with lesbians? Do y’all just bump pussies or—”