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Summary
Oscar was bored. He wasn't feeling the hands on his hips anymore, not really, and he'd stopped feeling the music three songs ago.
"Not judging," the man said, leaning in, "but there's two guys staring at you like they're about to fight someone. You part of a throuple or something?"
Oscar turned around.
Max and Charles weren't talking. They were watching him. Both of them, and neither one had the decency to look away when he caught them at it.
Heat climbed up the back of Oscar's neck, fast and unhelpful. He didn't turn back. He found the beat again, facing them now, slower, deliberate, giving them something to look at, just to see what happened.
Neither of them looked away.