His own mind was buzzed as he guided Sam through the maze of the house, eyes flickering around the crowd, humming faintly at his words, humoring him as a light smirk curled at his lips.Ā āOnce or twice,ā he replied, shoulders straight as he ignored the gaze of anyone who thought he didnāt belong here. He still made sure to walk slow enough for people to notice. They soon found themselves in the middle of the hallway. Abruptly, Sebastian stopped and angled his body towards his. āWhy would I need to do that?ā He used their linked hands to tug him closer while his free one twisted at the doorknob heād stopped in front of.Ā āWhen Iāve got you to reenact the whole thing.ā Words were lightly sarcastic, not fully intended to be cruel at this exact moment. Though his lips twitched with the urge to correct him, he thought better of it has he let his gaze fall briefly down to Samās own mouth. With that thought, though it wasnāt so much of a thought at all, Sebastian pushed the door open with one hand. And honestly, he was really banking on it not already being preoccupied. Maybe the so-called spirit world was on his side and that McKinley Psychic-in-training had been wrong. He let go of Samās hand only to motion him inside, following him in last as he closed the door behind them. Sebastian took a few steps toward him, nearing a bit too close.Ā āYou sure you remember your lines there, McConaughey?ā He brushed passed him, hand sliding over his shoulder as he walked by, only to sit down on the bed, turning his gaze towards him.Ā āI expect you know how to keep your audience entertained.āĀ
Sam tapped at his temple. āItās a glass trap up here, Sebastian. You can see in, but you canāt get out.ā Sam frowned at his metaphor. āThatās not right is it?ā he mumbled. āWhatever. Point still stands. I could quote that movie in my sleep.ā Samās defiance was as soft as the breath that lingered on his lips when Sebastian pulled away. He swallowed. Samās parents never let him close the door when he had company over. The mattress creaked under Sebastianās weight and Sam couldnāt help but notice the way the blanket bumped around Sebastianās fingers when he leaned back on the bed. Had he seen this film before? Maybe it was okay when you were in someone elseās house and in someone elseās room.
āWell, yeah.ā Of course he knew how to keep his audience entertained. Sam had been at Stallionz almost the entirety of the summer. Granted, it wasnāt something he was particularly proud of, and he didnāt like lying to his parents, but it paid a hell of a lot more than DQ. All he had to do was take off his clothes, gyrate on some handsy old ladies, and in fifteen minutes he had enough money in his banana hammock to get Stevie the pet rat heād been begging for since Christmas. The way Sam saw it, God gave him rock-hard abs for a reason. So oiling it up and slathering it with gold body glitter was his not-so-subtle way of using his gift for good. They liked him at Stallionz. They asked for him by name! (Well, his fake name.) Ask anyone over the age of 52. White Chocolate was a hot commodityāright after Bingo Night and 2 for 1 Margarita Mondays.
Sam bit at the inside of his cheek. He wasnāt used to private dances. He had only done it once before. He preferred being on stage with the other dancers. He didnāt have to focus on one pair of eyes on him, on one pair of wandering hands. The multi-colored lights, the slurred cat calls, even the far off smell of burnt hot wings from the buffet were welcomed distractions. It made it easier to pretend he didnāt hate himself for what he was doing. āMusic,ā he croaked. āThere isnāt any music.ā
