Page 26 of Sweet Surrender
Teresa dragged them to the suya stand. It was in the generous backyard of the house, where some of the party was. There were people of all genders dressed extravagantly, eating, drinking, chatting or dancing to the loud music. Saint took it all in with wide, greedy eyes.
Teresa’s phone buzzed. She brought the device out from her cleavage; she didn’t seem to have a bag or purse. Saint snorted.
“Hosting duty calls!” she said, leaning over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, her flowery perfume lingering. “Don’t miss me too much,” she said with a wink.
“I’ll try,” he quipped, grinning and waving as she made her way presumably to the front door to let more people in.
“Come on.” Saint boldly slid his hand down Knight’s arm, tangling his and Knight’s hands together. Despite himself, his heart pounded. He pretended to casually look around, that fear, though muted, still ever persistent.
There were several people making out in the corners, all of them of varying genders. There were men like him, their faces painted with even more extravagant makeup. There were butch women with buzzed hair and fancy ankara bomber jackets. There were drag queens and visibly trans and nonbinary people;all ranges of the queer spectrum seemed to be right here in this backyard.
Saint’s eyes burned, his heart pounding for a different reason now. He never thought he’d ever get to see a sight like this, especially in Nigeria. In Arehjia in particular—though Saint was sure it applied to the country at large—large, public gatherings of queer people unfortunately meant the attendees risked either harassment, arrest, or assault, most times all three, so these queer get-togethers had become very exclusive, with the hosts thoroughly vetting everyone they invited, while the location of the parties was always obscure—safe from prying eyes—and never used twice.
It was probably due to that same sense of liberation Saint was feeling, but literally everyone was so fucking beautiful; different shades of brown skin glowed under the security lights, pearly white teeth shining as almost everyone was in the middle of laughing or chatting. Saint didn’t know if he wanted to fuck or befriend every single one of them.
He squeezed Knight’s hand. They’d only just gotten here, and he already wished the night would last forever.
“Well done!” Saint said to the man behind the beef suya stand, his wide smile making the man grin back. The vendor was beefy and tall and dressed in nothing but a plain white hairnet, neon blue eyeliner, an apron, and skin-tight black jeans. Holy shit. “How much for one?”
“Help yourself, my brother,” he said with a gesture. “It’s free.”
Saint grinned. “Nice one! Thank you.” He remembered Knight saying demons didn’t eat like people did, but the demon didn’t refuse when Saint suggested he try one stick of the spicy, barbecued meat.
Saint took his own stick, his eyes eagerly watching Knight’s face as the demon brought the stick to his lips, carefully closinghis teeth around the topmost piece of beef, an anticipatory frown on his face.
Saint felt such a genuine burst of pleasure at the rapturous look that took over Knight’s expression as he chewed.
“Almighty,” he said when he was done, eyes wide. He licked his lips.
“Yeah?” Saint said, laughing.
“What is this?” Knight said, staring at the meat like he was staring at heaven.
“Oh my God,” Saint said, still laughing, pulling Knight to the other side of the backyard where another suya stand waited. “Try the chicken!”
“Almighty,” Knight said again when he popped a piece of the chicken suya in his mouth. Saint didn’t think anyone’s eyes could get so huge. “I am changed. I am a new man. I have been reborn.”
Saint was almost crying with how hard he was laughing. Their hands were still tangled, so Saint let himself be yanked between the two suya tables while Knight ate his fill, his eyes growing impossibly larger with each stick he devoured.
Eventually, they needed something to wash down the richness of the spicy meats. There was a third table, which seemed to be the bar. Saint didn’t know what Knight would like; he didn’t know whathewould like, for that matter, but the bar person was more than happy to cook up some drinks for them on the spot, a pronoun pin attached to their sheer blouse.
“Chapman and vodka,” they said with a wink, sliding the drinks across the table. “It’s a classic for a reason. Sweet, and the vodka gives it just the right kick.”
A piece of cucumber, pineapple, and watermelon sat on the rim, the drink a juicy watermelon red. He and Knight took their glasses. Knight hesitated, staring at the drink suspiciously.
Saint tried not to laugh. “Shall we toast?”
Knight raised his eyebrows, but his smile perfectly mirrored Saint’s, like they were sharing the same joy. “All right.”
“To our night of freedom,” Saint said, heart pounding.
“Our night of freedom,” Knight echoed, eyes dark, clinking their glasses together. They were still holding hands.
Saint took a gulp, watching as Knight did as well. They both grimaced at the same time, making the bar person laugh.
“First time drinking alcohol?” they said, seemingly entertained at the idea.
Saint took another sip, Knight following suit. That second taste seemed to go better than the first, both of them grinning then laughing at each other.
