I hold my robe out like a cape and take a twirl. “We’re not nervous for the club. The club is nervous for us.”

“You look amazing too,” Clem says to Hannah as they share a quick kiss.

And Hannah does look great in skintight black jeans and a white tank top. She’s smudged a touch of matte gray eyeshadow across her lids, and it’s the perfect addition to make her light-brown eyes sparkle. Tonight, her hair is pulled back from her face with one side swept back in a French braid. Hannah always looks like the kind of girl who could kick your ass, but tonight she looks like the kind of girl you’d be begging to kick your ass.

“Not to be a total creep, but is that side boob you’re rocking?” I ask.

Hannah blushes instantly, but instead of telling me to shut up, she curtsies and says, “Indeed it is.”

It’s not that we’re all different versions of ourselves tonight, but it’s like we turned up the volume a little, and it makes me excited for what could be.

As we buckle up, Hannah says, “Y’all know this is basically like a honky-tonk, but gay, right? Not at all classy.” She’s got that nervous energy that spawns anytime you’re about to share something you love with someone and are suddenly thinking of all of its flaws you’re usually indifferent to. “Y’all are, like . . . really dressed up. Way more than usual.”

“Be the class you wish to see in the world,” I tell her as I hit the gas and haul it out of Clover City.

I’ve heard all kinds of things about the Hideaway, which is right outside of town somewhere in between nowhere and the middle of nowhere. Depending on who you talk to, it’s a breeding ground for carnal sin or it’s a place where the most unlikely of dreams come true.

The reality, however, is just as Hannah promised it would be. A gay honky-tonk.

“I was promised drag queens,” I remind her as we pull into the gravel parking lot.

“This place looks . . . rough,” Clem says as she takes in the clusters of people in the parking lot and dotted around the edges of the building, some smoking, others vaping, and some sitting on the hoods of their cars. The clientele ranges from teens to elderly. A few look like what you would expect to see at a country-looking place like this, but some look like people you would see at the grocery store or the mall, and then there are a few who overdressed for a night out. Honestly, I think I might share an immediate and mutual understanding with anyone who would overdress for a night out at a middle-of-nowhere gay bar.