trinity is way too many drinks deep, and she’s pretty sure you might have the voice of an angel.

it was dennis’ idea to come out tonight, a rare saturday where at least one of them wasn’t on shift. so with a few friends, they went from one bar, to another, and now this bar. it’s loud, flamboyant. trinity doesn’t think it’s exactly classified as a ‘gay bar’, but she likes to think of it that way.

drinks turned into cocktails and cocktails turned into shots.

way too many shots.

she and dennis were talking to random people. dancing. laughing. drinking.

and then you stepped on stage. in a glittery outfit. cowboy hat on. guitar in hand. it’s like the whole place lit up. people were screaming, hollering your name. and trinity is pretty sure she felt her heart flutter the minute she heard you laugh into the microphone.

she and dennis stay throughout your set. trinity comes to the conclusion that you must be a regular performer here, because the bar staff seem to know you and you seem to know some of the regulars here. you laugh and you sing and you chat and you dance on stage.

trinity feels enamoured. maybe it’s the alcohol. maybe it’s just the fact that the cowboy hat keeps slipping off your head and you’re covered in glitter from boots to hair. maybe it’s the southern twang in your voice. but she wants to know more.

she spends the night with dennis, who teases her and pokes fun. but then my set ends, and i’m sitting at the bar, ordering a drink.

dennis nudges her. “trinity, go.”

she glares. shakes her head at him.

but i notice from the other end of the bar. give her a small wave.

she wants the ground to swallow her up at the same time she wants to talk to you. so she holds onto the bar as she walks, slumping down clumsily into the barstool.

yeah, she’s too drunk for this to go well.