“I always come here for New Year’s. Abe pours more generously on holidays.”

“He pours liberally for you every time you’re here,” Cal noted.

“Are you keeping tabs on my consumption?”

“More on his wastefulness,” he replied. “You never finish the fourth drink. He should only give you a half.”

“Have you told him that he should only give me a half?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. The idea of Cal bringing me up to Abraham gave me a thrill. I wanted my name on his lips, especially when they were opening for Abe.

“I haven’t,” he answered, his eyes only showing a slice of their irises. “I drink it.”

“You drink the rest of my drink?”

Cal nodded. “Every time.”

“Why?” I glanced around the room, the presence of the drag queens dressed in their best, and the men who lusted for them, instantly irritating me. I wanted to be on the beach with Abe’s Peach, or anywhere we could be alone.

“Because I wondered what you tasted like,” Cal admitted, sending shockwaves through my system. “Even the remnants.”

Not knowing how to reply, I stood in awe of him as I’m sure I often did.

“Rosie’s singing soon,” he said, running a hand through his brick-red hair. “I like to listen to him perform.”

“I don’t,” I confessed, perpetually uneasy around Cal’s friend.

Cal sighed and gave me a sultry smile. “When he’s done.”

“When he’s done?” I questioned, wondering if he purposely omitted the rest of his sentence.

From the look on his face, he had.

I sat down at the bar when Cal turned away and headed toward the stage. He was drunk. I could see it on his face and it made sense. It was a half hour until midnight on New Year’s Eve and everyone was feeling no pain, everyone but me. My heart clenched in my chest and my hands cramped, rigid with the fear that they’d never hold his.

As a succession of singers took the stage, I worked on getting properly pissed, finishing the full fourth, knowing I needed every ounce of liquid courage I could summon.

When Cal passed by me, dragging his fingertips across the small of my back, I rose from my stool, steadying myself as the alcohol hit me hard. I followed him outside and into the night, not knowing where we were headed, but looking forward to it just the same.

The freezing air slapped my cheeks as I bowed my head to the snow-saturated wind, walking quickly toward the beach. My feet slid over slick cement before breaking glass on the sand, shoes crushing the white peaks as the lake roared like an avalanche in front of us.

“It’s cold,” I said, blowing out a cloud of aquamarine air as I admired the moonbeams, silver slivers capping the breaks.