HOW TO RUIN YOUR LIFE (LGBTQ+)

4

The next day, I found myself out on the town with Sterling and Locke. Sterling had brought a tall, handsome man, probably in his mid-to-late thirties, so younger than I expected. Locke had brought his long-time girlfriend, Jazz, who was a total badass. They looked great together.

    We were at a grungy bar on the west side of town, sitting at a high table, each of us holding drinks while the dance floor was lit up and loud, and the seating area dim and slightly quieter. I suggested we change tables and go outside instead, where old picnic tables sat under yellow string lights hanging over our heads. The building was covered in trashy graffiti and the ground was covered in cigarette butts, but this was the best spot in town in my opinion. It had the highest quality alcohol, the coolest bartenders and the best atmosphere.

    So there we were.

    I slid onto the wooden bench, being careful to not get splinters up my ass from the rough cut wood, and Locke's girlfriend, Jazz, sat on my left, while Sterling's man, Charlie, sat on my right. Locke and Sterling grinned at me, sitting across from us.

    "I've known you for what, seven years?" Jazz asked, his fingers walking up my arm, curling around my shoulder and pulling me into her side.

I grimaced.

"I've never seen you with anyone, ever. Why don't you have a date with you?" she asked, waving her free hand in the air.

    I glanced at her, then down at my triple shot of whiskey, and threw it back in one big swallow. It burned going down, and I winced slightly, putting the glass down with a thunk.

    "Asa doesn't date, don't you know that?" Sterling chuckled, leaning across the table to grasp Charlie's hands.

    "Why not?" Jazz wondered.

    "We have this conversation multiple times a year," I muttered. "I need another drink."

    "I've wondered the same thing," Locke said, looking at me across the glass he was holding up to his face. Beer. Just beer. That's all he liked to drink.

    "I'm not interested in dating anyone," I said. "Never have been."

    "That's not normal," Jazz said, leaning her head on her fist, her elbow on the table. "Are you lying?"

    "Nope." I stood up, grabbing the empty glass from the table. I looked them all over, taking them in. Jazz was a tall, pale beauty, with black hair and dark eyes, a mischievous smirk always present on her face. Locke was dark skinned, with an afro he'd just recently cut off, silver studs in his ears and the ever-present sweater hanging off his shoulders. Sterling was lanky and mean-looking, with full lips and blue eyes, a mop of hair that hung in his eyes and bruises that seemed to stick to him, on his face and knuckles. Tonight, there was a faded bruise under his eye, his lip was split, and every knuckle was purple.

    Charlie was somewhat of a stranger to me. I'd seen him only a few times. Sterling seemed to like him, and he didn't really like many people. In fact, he hated most people. Charlie was kind and intelligent, tall and skinny, with dark hair and brown eyes, usually dressed to impress. He worked in the hospital, Sterling had told me.

    They were good people. They supported me.

    But they weren't like me. They didn't understand me, and they never would. They didn't know what I thought about and what tortured me to the point of nightmares every night, repeating the same sequence of events until I woke up sweating and breathing hard and heavy.

    They didn't want to kill people like I did.

    They were normal.

    I turned and walked away, toward the bar that was inside, letting myself smile a bit as I heard them resume talking without me.