Cute, Cozy, Queer Stories

Part 20: Trina, Angelique, Linnie & Dalia

Everyone was in party mode.

As Trina entered the dimly lit club, the heavy bass beat struck her in the chest at the same time as panic—from the bar to the wall, to the back wall, the club was packed with bodies. It was the first time in almost two years it was safe to be in a crowd, meet with strangers, be out in public unmasked—and Trina was frozen.

Angelique slipped her strong arm around Trina's shoulder. Looking down at her from her six-foot height, she gave a glowing smile. She didn't speak—Trina doubted she would've heard her over the thumping music anyway—but Trina felt her reassurance. Taking a breath, she kept walking, sticking close to Angelique.

"Hey, Marcus!" With her other hand, Angelique fist-bumped the bouncer standing near the door.

The large man's stone-stern face brightened when he saw her. "Hey, Ang. Good to see you."

"You too! I can't believe we're actually out! It's been so long!"

While Linnie and Dalia continued through the club, Trina stayed with Angelique, standing awkwardly while she talked with the bouncer. She hoped Angelique didn't mind.

"Hey, over here!" Linnie gestured toward the booth in the corner of the bar, just as four other women got up, heading for the dance floor. Linnie's bracelets danced on her wrists as she tried to get Angelique's attention.

Trina nudged Angelique gently. "Hey, um..." she nodded towards Linnie.

"Oh, cool, she got a table." Angelique waved to Marcus as she stepped away. "I'll see you later, have a nice night!"

The man gave a cool nod, resuming his sentinel stance by the door.

"He's from my gym," Angelique explained as she made her way towards Linnie with Trina in tow. "Super nice guy. But he fucking wrecks in the ring."

Trina laughed. Marcus was among the few in the room—and there were many—taller and broader than Angelique was. If she thought he was a wrecking machine, he must've been.

Linnie sat on one edge of the curving booth, her sharp eyes daring anyone to try and sneak in. Dalia moved inward as Trina scooted in, then Angelique. There were only four booths in the club, and were usually reserved for patrons with bottle service. But tonight—the grand re-opening of Sparks—there were no rules.

As Trina took a spot in the middle of the half-moon booth, she found her shoulders relaxing. The bustling people, the sweat and bodies, the fast-pumping music—it was overwhelming after months of home-bound silence. But she felt safe between Angelique and Dalia.

"I'll get us drinks!" Linnie shouted over the music. "Save my spot!"

Angelique scooted over a bit as Linnie moved into the crowd, heading for the bar. The booth was small and Trina was still packed tightly between Dalia's round bottom and Angelique's broad shoulders, but she didn't mind. Nestled between the two women in the corner of the club, Trina had a view of almost the entire place—the busy bar with groups throwing back shots with wincing faces and laughter, the crowded dance floor lit in neon flashes, fluorescent paint and black lights, the high-top tables with couples and groups leaning in to hear each other. It was the sort of loud, fast, tense energy Trina hated before the lockdown, but strangely missed during.

"Creepers, one o' clock." Dalia played with her feather earrings and gave a pointed glance across the bar, towards one of the high-top tables. Trying to be nonchalant, Trina looked over the bar first, then at the table—three young men stood around it, murmuring to each other and throwing glances at Trina, Angelique and Dalia. Trina's gaze connected for an instant with a blond-haired man's. She looked quickly away, cheeks reddening.