Post by Cass Harlow on Nov 2, 2023 10:09:01 GMT -5
Cass chuckled warmly at Ellis’ seeming delight over his CD’s. “I know, right? It’s like an exhibit in a museum,” he joked, widening his eyes briefly for dramatic effect.
“Speak for yourself,” he quipped, smirking when Ellis called him cute. ‘Cute’ was quite a bit of an understatement when it came to Ellis, though. ‘Smoking hot’ was more like it. Hot like fire. So hot Cass wondered how he’d even managed to get Ellis to come home with him in the first place, and why he was still choosing to stick around. He could have called an uber to take him back to the club, or called another friend to help him find his car. Cass was sure a guy like him had plenty of friends willing to come whenever he called, and help him with anything he needed.
Ellis eventually decided on Gwen Stefani, and Cass had no complaints. He held his hand out for the CD case when Ellis seemed unsure what to do with it, and when he handed it over Cass tossed it carelessly onto the dash. The top of the van’s large dashboard was cluttered with a variety of odds and ends, discarded maps, and a notebook or two, and Cass often left his CD case up there, too.
When Ellis asked who his favorite artist was, Cass shot him a look of horror. “You can’t ask me to choose just one!” he cried, half laughing. “I’m bisexual,” he said with emphasis. “Our kind are notoriously bad at choosing only one of something.” He laughed a little at his own joke, not caring how terrible it was.
“I can give you my top five, I guess,” he conceded, and then had to think for a moment as he tried to decide. “Led Zeppelin, Sea Wolf, The Devil Makes Three, Maneskin, aaaaand… Arctic Monkeys? No, Radio Company. No! AC/DC. Shit. Okay, top ten, then. Zeppelin, Sea Wolf, tDMT, Maneskin, Arctic Monkeys, Radio Company, AC/DC, Fleet Foxes, Hozier, and… Megan thee Stallion.” He nodded, satisfied with his choices, then shot Ellis a slightly sheepish grin. “How about you?”
Cass grinned at the song that started playing next on the album. The last time he’d heard the song was almost four years ago. He’d been hotboxing the van with three pretty girls. They’d been listening to the radio when the song came on, and the girls knew every word and had sung them together. Loudly. By the end of the night, they had devolved into arguing over which one of them was going to sleep with him, and then decided on a foursome, which he turned down because he knew they had taken some pills before they started smoking, and they were a lot more fucked up than he was. The four of them had ended up squeezing together in his bed to sleep, and then going to a diner for breakfast the next morning. He still regularly texted all three of them, but hadn’t actually ended up hooking up with any of them.
It was a pleasant memory, and a funny story. He glanced over at Ellis, wondering if he’d think it was funny, too, or if he’d think Cass was just trying to brag or something. He told it anyway, feeling Ellis out. If he enjoyed it and thought it was funny, well, Cass was full of stories like that, most a lot crazier, and he was always willing to tell them to an interested listener. Maybe Ellis had some crazy stories of his own to share.
“Speak for yourself,” he quipped, smirking when Ellis called him cute. ‘Cute’ was quite a bit of an understatement when it came to Ellis, though. ‘Smoking hot’ was more like it. Hot like fire. So hot Cass wondered how he’d even managed to get Ellis to come home with him in the first place, and why he was still choosing to stick around. He could have called an uber to take him back to the club, or called another friend to help him find his car. Cass was sure a guy like him had plenty of friends willing to come whenever he called, and help him with anything he needed.
Ellis eventually decided on Gwen Stefani, and Cass had no complaints. He held his hand out for the CD case when Ellis seemed unsure what to do with it, and when he handed it over Cass tossed it carelessly onto the dash. The top of the van’s large dashboard was cluttered with a variety of odds and ends, discarded maps, and a notebook or two, and Cass often left his CD case up there, too.
When Ellis asked who his favorite artist was, Cass shot him a look of horror. “You can’t ask me to choose just one!” he cried, half laughing. “I’m bisexual,” he said with emphasis. “Our kind are notoriously bad at choosing only one of something.” He laughed a little at his own joke, not caring how terrible it was.
“I can give you my top five, I guess,” he conceded, and then had to think for a moment as he tried to decide. “Led Zeppelin, Sea Wolf, The Devil Makes Three, Maneskin, aaaaand… Arctic Monkeys? No, Radio Company. No! AC/DC. Shit. Okay, top ten, then. Zeppelin, Sea Wolf, tDMT, Maneskin, Arctic Monkeys, Radio Company, AC/DC, Fleet Foxes, Hozier, and… Megan thee Stallion.” He nodded, satisfied with his choices, then shot Ellis a slightly sheepish grin. “How about you?”
Cass grinned at the song that started playing next on the album. The last time he’d heard the song was almost four years ago. He’d been hotboxing the van with three pretty girls. They’d been listening to the radio when the song came on, and the girls knew every word and had sung them together. Loudly. By the end of the night, they had devolved into arguing over which one of them was going to sleep with him, and then decided on a foursome, which he turned down because he knew they had taken some pills before they started smoking, and they were a lot more fucked up than he was. The four of them had ended up squeezing together in his bed to sleep, and then going to a diner for breakfast the next morning. He still regularly texted all three of them, but hadn’t actually ended up hooking up with any of them.
It was a pleasant memory, and a funny story. He glanced over at Ellis, wondering if he’d think it was funny, too, or if he’d think Cass was just trying to brag or something. He told it anyway, feeling Ellis out. If he enjoyed it and thought it was funny, well, Cass was full of stories like that, most a lot crazier, and he was always willing to tell them to an interested listener. Maybe Ellis had some crazy stories of his own to share.
TAG: Ellis Bridges
