Prelude
The music was pumping. The crowd was going wild and so was I. You'd think I'd outgrow it with age, but no. This was me at my core, forever a party boy.
And right next to me was my best friend, Jagger, jumping up and down with a stupid look on his face that matched my own.
Yeah. We might've turned 30 and we might have big important jobs now, but no matter what, this was always something we could find time for when it mattered; partying and celebrating when something big happened.
And I'd just got promoted, big-time.
Principal of the fucking Alexandrettia.
I laughed and continued jumping up and down, feeling the alcohol rush through me in that perfect buzzing way. Jagger grinned at me from across the floor, as if he could tell what I was thinking. Which he mostly could, because when you'd been friends for more than 20 years, you just knew each other that way. Jagger and I shared no secrets, no judgement and we always told each other everything.
So when I grinned back, I couldn't help but send him a middle finger when the fucker began laughing.
I was going to be a big fucking boss come Monday morning, but tonight, I was going to be an absolute drunk idiot. And so was Jagger.
Because idiocy loved company. Or whatever the saying was.
The night wore on and we traveled back and forth between the bar and the dance floor. We didn't dance as much as we did laugh and tumble around. At one point Jagger nearly tipped into someone and knocked them over, mumbling apologies in half Italian-half English—and that's how I knew the night was coming to an end.
When Jagger stopped speaking plain English, he'd hit his drink limit. Which frankly didn't take much, but he'd hung in there for me tonight.
"Alright, buddy. This way," I chuckled as I steered him down the hallway of our hotel. We didn't like to drink and drive, but the best clubs also usually laid outside our radius. So we booked a hotel room to sleep it off, because having someone come up with breakfast in the morning was way better when you were clutching the toilet bowl at 9am than having to go cook it yourself.
Jagger stumbled over his own feet and walked (if you could even call it that) with his arm slung around my shoulder. He was making nonsense sounds, moaning about the floor being uneven and something about wanting to arrest it for disorderly conduct.
"Yeah, you slap some cuffs on it," I agreed, finally making it to our room. "Make it pay, Jags."
I got the door unlocked and practically had to carry Jagger inside and sling him onto the bed. Jagger flopped down in all his 6'4 giant grace. He moaned into the pillows but remained dead as I tossed myself down next to him.
The room immediately began that funny spinning thing.
"Fuck, I'm beat," I spoke in a slow way, the way your speech turns slow and slurred when you're drunk. But I was still more sober than Jagger as he grunted something unintelligible back. "I think... no, I know I should've hit that girl with the tattoos. Did you see her eyeing me at the bar? Jags?"
"Nooo..." He moaned into the pillows, his voice muffled.
"Well, she was. She looked freaky too," I sighed, rubbing my face. "What a missed opportunity. Anyways," I finally sat up and groaned when the room spun some more. "Gotta go take a piss."
"Wait!" Jagger suddenly shot up. His head turned and his eyes blinked rapidly for a moment before settling on me, looking a little uneven. But the look inside them told me he had something urgent to say. "I gotta... say something."
"What? Don't tell me you're gonna hurl," I grimaced. "I thought we were past that."
"No," Jagger's voice was slow and slurred too, but with great effort, he managed to sit himself up, still somewhat clutching the pillow. His gaze remained on me. "Is... a big secret... but... need to tell... now. Is been... I wanted to... for ages..."
When I lifted a confused brow, he dramatically wagged his finger at me, bidding me closer like we were in 5th grade about to whisper-share who kissed behind the bleachers. I laughed and still complied, moving closer towards him. "What is it?"
Jagger blinked a few more times, but then seemed to finally meet my gaze straight on. He swallowed, but then licked his lips, clasping a steadying hand on my shoulder.
"I... I'm gay and I have a crush on you," He then blurted.
And the next moment, he moved forward and shoved his mouth against mine.
My brain froze for about two seconds before his words caught up with me. Something like a cold, wet gush of shock went through me and snapped me out of it. I jerked back, pushing him off me, wiping my mouth down with a horrified look. "What the fuck!"
Jagger flopped backwards and hit the mattress with surprising force. Or rather, I had used surprising force. But I couldn't care.
My brain sobered up real fast as Jagger's gaze once more found me, his words echoing inside my brain like a foghorn.
I'm gay and I have a crush on you.
"Miles—"
"No, stay the fuck away from me," I snapped, rage suddenly taking over. It happened so quickly, I couldn't stop it. His words kept replaying and then that fucking kiss, and it all just culminated inside me. "Stay away, you fucking fa—"
The last word escaped my mouth before I could stop it, too. It hit the room like a grenade and left a deafening silence in its wake, and even Jagger in his drunken state seemed to freeze at the sound of it.
I regretted it the moment I said it, but I couldn't take it back. And right now, I was too angry to apologize for it.
So instead, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the hotel room, leaving Jagger staring mutely after me with a look on his face I'd never forget.
And yeah. This was a night I wouldn't soon forget either.
How to be a dumbass, Teacher Miles presiding.
