“That’s just Northbridge,” Danny Hawkins told him. “It’s the ice. There are a lot of people on it.”
Micah wondered whether the isolation of the city made the people harder and drug use more prevalent, which thereby affected the general atmosphere. He was flanked by eight strong athletic men, but being who they were also made them more visible—they were known as AFL players, and that resulted either in frenetic fan worship or belligerent catcalls that threatened worse.
But they made it to Connections unscathed, and there was no problem getting in the door as the bouncer’s eyes bugged in appreciation at so much straight man flesh.
“How do you handle it?” he hissed at Micah as he swanned past.
“Quite easily,” Micah told him. Even though it was true, the bouncer didn’t seem to believe him.
Upstairs was like some scene from an Eighties dance movie. The crowd on the dance floor parted as the boys strode out onto it, having already dispatched someone for drink duty. Micah saw the whispers start, and he felt hidden amongst his teammates. Then a boy his age boldly approached him and began dancing alongside him. Micah remained frozen in a childhood game of Statues while other eyes were upon him.
A shove in his back and a cry of “Just fucking dance, already!”—he was pretty sure it was Craig although the volume of the doof doof music covered most of it—made him almost fall into the other boy’s arms. Awkwardly he began to move in some pattern that could be regarded as dancing, and his teammates whooped and started doing so amongst themselves. In no time at all they had their own goodwill suitors, men and women taking the chance to share the floor with football royalty and have a story to tell their friends the next day if they hadn’t already seen the pictures that would be plastered across Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook.
“What’s your name?” Micah yelled over the din of the music.
“Jace,” yelled his dancing companion.
“I’m Micah—” he began.
Jace got in close to him and wrapped his arm around Micah’s waist, drawing him in until they were chest to chest. Not breaking eye contact, Jace grinned. “Yeah, I know who you are, Micah Johnson. Can’t stand the Dockers, but you’re all right.”
“Oh, well, as long as I’m all right.”
Jace looked over appreciatively at the rest of the team, half of whom had followed suit as the other guys on the dance floor and discarded their shirts. “But on the other hand, they’re not seeming too bad either.”
Micah laughed. “Fucking show ponies.”
“They’re going to be supplying plenty of material for the wank bank.” Jace tugged at Micah’s shirt. “Maybe you should too.”
A blast of warm air hit Micah’s back as his flesh was exposed.
“Fuck me,” Jace said. His eyes widened, and he laughed. “I meant, you’re hot! That wasn’t an invitation.”
Micah stammered as he answered. “I wasn’t thinking that, honestly—”
Jace ran his finger down the centre of Micah’s chest, and hooked it under the waist of his pants, letting it remain there. “Let’s see where the night takes us.”
Micah was glad of the strobe lights that began, helping disguise the fact that he was… well, there was no polite way of putting it. Jace ground against him, and Micah groaned.
“Maybe you can score another goal,” Jace whispered into his ear, his breath hot.
This time Micah groaned at the cheesiness of the line. It didn’t help him lose his raging boner, though.
“LOOKS LIKE you’re having fun,” Daril said as he joined him at the bar.
Micah had finally rescued his shirt back from Jace, and was flushed from his exertions on the dance floor. He needed air, but first he needed water.
“It’s been okay,” Micah said, and burst out laughing at the expression on Daril’s face. He had been rumbled.
“If you have any more fun, it’s going to be murder on the dance floor,” Daril said, “because that boy will have killed you.”
“He’s… energetic,” Micah said.
Daril snorted. “You know, there’s a whole room out there full of guys. You don’t have to stick to the first one you danced with.”
“How many have you danced with?”
“Three.” Daril’s grin flashed blue in the disco lights. “I tell you, if I wasn’t straight, I would be set for the night.”
It sounded like the boys were more popular than the real true gay guy. But then, what gay man could resist the oh so cool and down with it straight dude?
“Jace seems okay, though,” Micah said. “I mean, he seems really nice.”
“He’s definitely not shy.”
Having finally been served their drinks, they moved to the small balcony outside. Micah took in huge, relieving gulps of fresh air and downed three quarters of his water bottle in only two gulps.
“Micah, pace yourself!” Sam appeared before them.
“It’s water. Calm down.” Micah showed him the bottle.
“Well, then, maybe have a drink? Come on, you can’t keep going all night on water alone.”
“I don’t know,” Daril said. “Looks like he was getting plenty of energy on the dance floor.”
Sam laughed. “Yeah, I think everybody could see that.”
“Maybe we should move on to another club,” Micah said.
His friends voiced their confusion, and Micah waved them off.
“No, seriously. I don’t want to be the centre of attention. Let’s go somewhere else and the rest of the boys can get their rocks off.”
“What about you and your rocks?”
“My rocks are just fine, believe me.”
“Okay,” Sam said, “I’ll go and get the rest of them ready. I think some of them will be disappointed. They’ve never been so popular.”
“I gotta go to the loo,” Micah said.
He was waylaid by a small group on his way there—he said his hellos and danced a little and then had to make his apologies as he was going to burst. In the loos he grabbed a cubicle for privacy, and was in the middle of relieving his bladder when the door opened.
“Someone’s in here!” he yelled, not turning around.
“I know.”
Perturbed, Micah looked over his shoulder. Jace was standing there, looking amused.
“Do you mind?” Micah asked.