After a bit of a delayed start:
Day 1 A Familiar Feeling by Matthew Haldeman-Time. AJ is devastatingly dangerous in controlled motion.
Chris didn't want to turn. Didn't want to look. He turned. He looked. He saw Howie and AJ, strolling through the club, in his direction. They were oblivious to him, blind to all stares, superior to all attention.
Despite being in a dark club, AJ wore dark sunglasses with his layered clothing and silver jewelry. His black bandanna covered his receding hairline.
Chris remembered running careful fingers along the edge of AJ's widow's peak.
Day 2 The Girl Can Drink by Jericho. Despite the fact that he was a girl, and that obviously sucked, AJ couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun shopping. His biggest problem was finding out what size he was, because the sizes started at two and went from there. And who the fuck would wear a two? He found a rack of little black dresses that zipped up the back and grabbed one of each size, from two to 12, and carried them all to the dressing room, the sales girl following behind him like he was going to steal them. He went in and started at four, and found the six fit perfectly except it was a little tight in the chest. So man, he figured. He must have hooters.
Day 1 A Familiar Feeling by Matthew Haldeman-Time. AJ is devastatingly dangerous in controlled motion.
Chris didn't want to turn. Didn't want to look. He turned. He looked. He saw Howie and AJ, strolling through the club, in his direction. They were oblivious to him, blind to all stares, superior to all attention.
Despite being in a dark club, AJ wore dark sunglasses with his layered clothing and silver jewelry. His black bandanna covered his receding hairline.
Chris remembered running careful fingers along the edge of AJ's widow's peak.
Day 2 The Girl Can Drink by Jericho. Despite the fact that he was a girl, and that obviously sucked, AJ couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun shopping. His biggest problem was finding out what size he was, because the sizes started at two and went from there. And who the fuck would wear a two? He found a rack of little black dresses that zipped up the back and grabbed one of each size, from two to 12, and carried them all to the dressing room, the sales girl following behind him like he was going to steal them. He went in and started at four, and found the six fit perfectly except it was a little tight in the chest. So man, he figured. He must have hooters.
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