Page 59 of Mr. Brightside
“So who’s the lucky lady?”
I can’t help but scoff. I’ve been out so long that it rarely comes up in conversation anymore. Most of the douche bags who gave me a hard time in high school have long since moved away. Most everyone else who lives in Hampton is either accepting or ignorant. I have no shame about my bisexuality. I’m confident in who I am. But this heteronormative bullshit always grinds my gears.
“Who said I married a lady?” I retort.
At that, Cole sucks in a sharp breath as he turns around and beelines for the opposite end of the bar.
It’s like the universe wants to support me in my efforts to put Skippy Baker-Brooks in her place, because at that exact moment, my husband walks through the front door. He’s coming right from class, dressed in khakis and a deep green button up that fits his frame like a glove. I can’t help but admire how hot he looks today: his hair perfectly styled, as always, and he’s got his messenger bag slung over his arm. And then the real kicker: he’s wearing his glasses. I fucking love it when he wears his glasses.
I watch him scan the bar, then look around at each of the booths against the back wall. When his eyes finally land on me, I feel an almost Zen-like sense of calm. I grin and cock my head, urging him to get over here. He gives me a half smile and walks over to join me.
Cory says hi to Cole and Teddy, then turns to face me.
“Hi, baby,” I greet, running my hands on either side of his waist and pulling him closer to where I sit on my stool.
“Hey,” he replies feebly.
“Hey, yourself,” I reply in challenge, smoothing one hand over his jaw and tilting his chin. I assess him, dread twisting in my gut as I realize something’s wrong. I don’t even bother asking if he’s okay.
“Talk to me, baby,” I urge.
He drags his messenger bag off his shoulder and sets it at my feet. Then he leans in, letting me hold him as I run both hands up and down his back.
“Co-ry…” I can be strong. I can hold him up. But I have to know what we’re up against.
“It was just a shittastic day.”
I smirk at his choice of words. I taught him that.
“Tell me about it,” I encourage as he takes a seat on the barstool next to me. “You want a drink?” I add as an afterthought, an idea sparking in my mind.
Cory nods and gets comfortable.
“Yo. Cole. Pour me an Oktoberfest, and mix up a mojito for my husband, please.”
“You got it, boss.”
I know I should be fully focused on Cory right now, but I can’t help glancing past his shoulder to witness the shock on Skippy’s face. The joke’s on her, really. There’s no way she didn’t know I was bi. She just chose to assume that if I got married, it would be to a woman. Serves her right for doling out microaggressions in this day and age.
“Remember how the registrar’s office unenrolled me from all my classes because my tuition was late?” Cory asks.
I give him a pointed look as Cole brings over our drinks.
“I remember how the school dicked you around when they canceled your assistantship and didn’t even give you a chance to pay the tuition before unenrolling you, yeah.”
He takes a sip of his mojito and smiles. I don’t know if he can tell or not, but I started stocking Oak and Cane, his favorite, as our house rum this week.
“Well, most of my professors were super understanding, and I got back into every class.”
“That’s great!” I encourage before he hits me with a look.
Oh. Too soon.
“Except now I’m the odd man out in my practicum cohort. Everyone’s already paired up for this big assignment, and it counts for half my grade. Since I technically wasn’t enrolled, I wasn’t accounted for when everyone partnered up, so now I’m stuck in a three-way with my arch enemy, Jared, and his best friend, Simone.”
“You better not be having a three-way without me, baby,” I tease.
He shakes his head sadly. “Believe me. There’s no part of this project that I’m going to enjoy. Jared is always trying to push my buttons. I have no desire to be stuck with him all semester. The alternative is dropping the class and taking it later, but it’s only offered in the fall.”
