I need space. Those were the words Jacky said to Ryan the night before they both left for separate colleges. Now, each of them will try to learn who they are without the other. Will their paths lead them back together?
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Ryan
The atmosphere in the apartment was electric. Jordan and Harper were crammed in the bathroom, giving each other makeovers and donning brightly colored wigs: Jordan's bright blue and Harper's violet. They had done their makeup and were barely recognizable, Jordan because she never wore makeup, and Harper because she never wore anything but black.
Sam had mixed some drinks to go with their dinner. "This a school-sponsored drag show," she explained, handing Ryan and Charlie each a red solo cup. "Chances are there won't be any drinks."
"What fun is that?" Pete asked, already on his second.
Ryan sipped his drink, nearly gagged. Everyone else was chugging theirs. Down the hatch, he thought, and took a few swigs as if they were shots. His chest burned. It was better to be drunk for this. He was weirdly nervous. Aside from the pride parade that was their apartment, Ryan hadn't been in many queer spaces. He had no idea what to expect.
It seemed like the next thing he knew, he was walking into the venue with club music pumping in his ears and no clear memory of how they'd gotten there from the apartment. How strong had those drinks been? They sat at a table near the stage.
"They're gonna love you guys," Jordan was saying to Pete. "They love straight boys." She squinted at Ryan. "And hot gay guys."
Ryan's face felt hot. Charlie laughed. "You are a hot gay guy," they said, nudging him. Ryan gazed around the room, wondering how many of the other students were gay and if they would think Ryan was hot. He knew in high school he'd been considered "hot," but that was the girls who said it, which didn't count. To Ryan's surprise, the audience seemed to be mostly women. The guys he saw were either uncomfortably straight or femme. One guy with carefully styled hair and glittery eye shadow winked at him, and Ryan immediately looked away.
"I'm going to go get some ones," Sam said, fanning a couple of twenty-dollar bills. "Anyone else?"
Charlie must have noticed Ryan's blank look, because they leaned in and said, "For tips. You gotta tip the drag queens."
"Oh." Ryan pulled out his wallet. He had about a hundred in cash. He felt like there was some reason why he shouldn't spend it, but he couldn't remember what it was. Taking out a twenty, Ryan asked Sam, "Can you get me some?"
Sam grinned.
Ryan studied the stage, which didn't look like much, just an elevated platform with some purple and orange lights strung up behind it. Across the room, however, where Sam was standing in a line, a drag queen in a purple wig sat exchanging money. Somehow, on television, drag queens didn't look so much larger than life.
"Less get this party started," Pete said at Ryan's side. He plunked two glasses of what looked like soda with grenadine on the table.
"I didn't think they served drinks here," Ryan said, at the same time that Jordan said, "Are those Shirley Temples?"
