Page 52 of The Quirky Vet
Cheers erupt all around us as several drag queens do an unofficial lap of honour as the music starts back up again.
"I've got an idea." Muir grabs my hand and drags me off to right in front of the multicoloured DJ booth. "Take your jacket off," he instructs, fishing his phone from his pocket. "And dance monkey."
He's grinning like a sexy fucker, so of course I agree to it. I am a true attention whore, after all.
I ask someone to hold my jacket, get into position, and bust out a series of short, jerky, easy-to-replicate moves. Trying to predict what will go viral on TikTok is a mindfuck, but you can't go wrong with silly, cheesy moves like this. Especially when shirtless.
After a few minutes, I'm breaking out in a sweat and need a break. "Any chance you wanna join me?" I ask as Muir hands me a bottle of water, and I take my jacket back.
"Nah. I'm good."
"One day I'll get you in front of the camera."
He snorts. "Yeah. Good luck with that."
"Why not?" I ask.
I know the spotlight isn't for everyone, and if that's all it was, I'd drop it. But I know that there's more to it than that.
He didn't grow up in a household like mine, where diversity of thinking and expression of ideas was celebrated and encouraged. I wonder how much having a mother who actively suppressed him and even punished him whenever his thinking was 'out of line' impacts him to this day.
Because while, yes, he's a little guarded at first, once he's comfortable with the people he's with, he's not a shy guy by any means. I've roped him into wearing goofy shirts around town with me before, so why is he still holding back?
I take him in for a long beat. It's funny. I know him inside and out, but I've never stopped to consider how well he knows himself.
Come to think of it, how well does anyone really know themselves?
My mind drifts to Lleyton, and I can't help but wonder, for, like, the millionth time, how different I'd be if he was still with us.
But I'm in too good a mood to go down that dark rabbit hole.
Besides, you can't be sad at Pride, right? I'm pretty sure there's a local by-law to that effect somewhere on the books.
Even though it's only early in the afternoon, I'm tired and keen to have a shower and put on some real clothes.
Might also be in the mood to not have a shower on my own…if Muir's keen for a bit of scrub down action, that is.
"Should we say goodbye to the fellas and head back to mine?" I ask.
His eyes dart to mine, and there's no mistaking the heat that flashes through them. "Sure. Let's do that."
9
Muir
Tension crackles in the car on the drive back to his place.
I'm driving, so I keep my gaze on the wide-open road, focusing on it like it needs way more attention than it really does.
The conversation we had after bumping into his parents was unexpected. I'm not entirely sure I know why I went there. I guess I got swept up in the Pride vibes.
There's something inspiring about watching people live their truths, freely and safely. Yes, there was plenty of skin on display, including that of Fitz's parents, but what stayed with me most was a young couple in matching nerdy T-shirts, or the witchy woman with purple hair, or the group at the food trucks, all reading the same book. It was witnessing those little moments that gave me the courage to share something with Fitz I'd never told him before.
And the cool thing is, he reacted well.Verywell, if the tone in his invitation to come back to his place was anything to go by.
As the silence between us stretches, my brain starts braining, imagining how we go from talking about what we talked about doing to, well, doing it.
I guess a good way might be to start a conversation and try to swing it around to sex stuff.