Page 116 of A Solid Guide to Surviving a Situationship

And since we’re gays with bad directions, our heads snapped in completely different directions.

“My twelve, you stupid bitches!” Seph said, pointing straight ahead.

Erl and I followed his gaze.

“Oh,” Erl said. “I’m not surviving tonight.”

I turned back at them. “You are leaving me, aren’t you?”

“Respectfully,” Erl said, already fixing his tank top.

“Disrespectfully,” Seph added, checking his reflection on his phone.

“Gays,” I said, shaking my head, “it’s true friendships until we talk about boys.”

“Guys before fries?” Erl said, sipping his drink.

“Dicks before—" Seph paused, thinking, “—cliques?”

I rolled my eyes.

Erl squeezed my arm. “You’ll be fine. Just stand here and look⁠—”

“Don’t say it,” I warned him.

“—emotionally unavailable.”

I stared at him. “That’s not comforting, Erl.”

“It’s effective!” Seph said enthusiastically, already backing away.

And just like that, they were gone—swallowed by the crowd… which, later, they’d happily let swallow them whole.

I stood there for a second, the space they left behind settling in faster than I expected.

Alone again.

Great.

I turned back to the bar and raised my hand.

“Hi,” I said when the bartender glanced my way. “Something strong, please.”

If I was going to survive this night, I wasn’t doing it sober.

“Excuse me,” a voice from behind said.

I turned.

A guy and a girl stood—young, early twenties maybe, both looking like they had just stepped out of a TikTok edit. The guy was already half-smiling, like he was trying to confirm something.

“Are you…” he started, squinting slightly, “…are you The Southside King?”

There was a beat before a smile crept across my face.

“Yes,” I said.

Their faces lit up instantly.