But of course Oliver found a way to crack the ice. It was Oliver Brightly for crying out loud—he could get along with a bucket of ice and a room full of frogs if he had to. Soon enough, we were all cracking jokes and taking the piss, the night flying by.
“I liked him,” Corey said. He leaned back, his bald head reflecting some of the light off the setting sun. “And you really, really liked him. I mean, you were drooling all over the place the other night.”
“I didn’t drool anywhere,” I assured him, crossing my arms and looking out to the sidewalk. It was filled with vacationing beachgoers walking, many of them carrying their umbrellas and chairs and coolers back to their cars.
“Oh, so that wasn’t drool? I think that’s even worse, buddy.” Corey cocked his head before laughing. Kyle joined in, goading him.
I cracked a smile and felt my cheeks getting red like I was a bloody schoolboy all over again, being teased by my classmates. “I do really like him,” I said when the laughing died down.
Silas leaned onto the table. He had a scar across his cheek that made him look all the more aggro, which was funny seeing as how he got it from a gardening accident and not from a pub fight as he would like people to believe.
“And he likes you, right?”
“Silas, what kind of question is that?” Corey asked before I could respond. “Of course Oliver likes him back. Did you see the way they were looking at each other? I wouldn’t be surprised if the two had snuck off on a midnight date to Vegas and stopped to see Elvis.”
“I’m just saying.” Silas leaned back in the seat. He took a drink of his martini. It was an interesting sight, seeing the beefiest one out of all of us holding up a delicate glass and sipping from the edge. I half-expected him to stick a veiny pinky finger out. “I’ve dated my share of young guys. You’ve met a couple of them.”
“Yeah, and I wish we hadn’t,” Kyle said. “Remember the one that was obsessed with that Ultra music festival? I swear, I think he would have gotten a full-body tattoo consisting of EDM song titles and ecstasy pills.”
“Exactly,” Silas said, confident as though his point had been fully proven. “There’s a different culture nowadays. We didn’t have all these fancy clubs and massive parties to go to. We didn’t have the huge parades that shut down entire cities and the crazy after-parties that follow. Not to mention all the apps there are nowadays. You want a bear? Oh, download Grizzly. You want a twink? Here, download Twinkle. Maybe you want a daddy? Go get Dadder.”
We all looked at Silas before cracking up.
“Honestly,” Corey said, “I think you’re onto something with that last one.”
“Oliver isn’t like that.” I had to defend him. As funny as Silas was, I knew he was speaking from his own experience and was just looking out for my best interests. But I had to let them know that I didn’t need to worry about things like that. “He’s really mature. He’s been through it, and I think he’s matured because of the things he’s been through. And, also on the same token, he’s so fun to be around. He’s not a stick in the mud; he’s not scared of experiencing new things. We’re always laughing. Always having a great time. I know that he doesn’t want to be on any apps, and neither do I.”
Silas looked at me. He had a penetrating stare with a pair of emerald-green eyes that resembled two jewels. “You sure, Beckham? I’m just saying, we’ve all been wanting someone for you as bad as you’ve been wanting someone for yourself. Trust me. I just don’t want you getting carried away.”
“I know you’ve been hurt before, Silas. And I appreciate you looking out for me. I do.”
“But you’re sure on this one, huh?”
“Dead sure.”
Deadass.
He nodded at that, seeming to accept my answer as final. Corey perked up and lifted his glass in the air, some of the vodka soda spilling over and onto the table. “Cheers, then, to Beckham and Oliver and Silas’s newDadderventure.”
We clinked our glasses, the group of us smiling.
That’s when two massive warheads were dropped on me simultaneously.
First, my phone buzzed with a message from the corner store I talked to earlier in the day. They were able to fix the corrupted files and sent over the footage from that night. Before I could even click to open it, my phone started to buzz again, this time with a call.
It was Oliver.
“Hello?”
“Beckham! Beck, I need you. My apartment. Someone… it’s bad, I can’t. Beckham, please.”
“Whoa, whoa, slow down, Olly.” I felt all the eyes at the table turn to me. “What happened?”
“Just come. Please, Beck. My apartment.”
“I’ll be right there.” I hung up the phone and stood, almost tipping out of my chair. My mates knew there wasn’t any time to explain; my face must have said it all. I left the pub, feeling a terrible sense of helplessness. Oliver needed me, and I was at least twenty minutes away, and that was with me not giving a fuck about speed limits.
27Oliver Brightly