The man’s eyes caught mine and lingered a second too long. Was he smirking? Great. Now, I was the awkward guy who couldn’t stop staring. I wanted to look away, but my body refused to cooperate.
“Does he really not have game?”
Amanda punched me in the shoulder. “There’s a good chance I could get your boyfriend’s number before you.”
“You’re both mean.”
Amanda and I had a pact—no hard feelings when a pretty thing caught our attention. We arrived together but rarely left in the same car. While I had no problem dancing with sexy men, I could never seal the deal. If I was lucky, I got a phone number that led to an awkward first date. Then I'd hope for a second and wind up getting ghosted. Maybe I needed Mabel’s course. Beginner level.
The man flashed a smile before taking another swig of beer. His eyes turned to me again, and whatever mockery was coming from Amanda and Mabel vanished. He had the right amount of swagger, and those eyes knew I’d been stealing glances. When he dropped the glass, the smirk stuck. I wanted to stroke… more than his beard.
When he winked, my cheeks burned. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure he wasn’t aiming it at Patrick. Nope. That stare was meant for me. What now? Casually walk over and hope I didn’t trip over my feet? If people were on the dance floor, I’d shimmy my way out, rip off my shirt, and bounce back and forth, hoping he’d join.
Something about him looked familiar. I tried to remember if I’d seen him at the club before—or maybesomewhere in town? I strolled down memory lane, recalling every sexy man I’d ever encountered. The cashier at the grocery store. The manager at the coffee shop. The entire firefighter team near my apartment. Basically, any geeky man in a cardigan. Damn… I needed to get laid.
I could fake confidence, couldn’t I? Walk over, make a clever comment, and maybe snag his number. But then what? Another awkward date leading to another awkward goodbye? Maybe I was better off sticking with the fantasy—men on the Romance Channel never ghosted you.
Maybe another night. I smiled, making sure he saw before I turned around. Tonight, I’d have a few drinks with friends. Amanda would drop me off at my apartment, and then I’d pack my bags. I could commute from Firefly back to my apartment, but it didn’t make sense when I could work out of Mimi’s house. It’d be easier to sort through her belongings, and if I was lucky, it wouldn’t take as long as I feared.
Empty.
Clean.
Sell.
It'd be emotionally draining, and then back to my usual boring life.
“Okay, that was my last beer.” I’d said that three or four times already. This time, I meant it. Maybe. I dashed downthe hallway, fearful I wouldn’t make it to the bathroom without a wet spot on my jeans.
Barreling into the bathroom, I froze. Even intoxicated, the unspoken rules of the man code kicked in.Hestood at one of the two urinals. Every bit of his thick, delicious, curvy… hold that lustful thought. I needed to pee. I turned to the stall to see an “Out of Order” sign hanging on the door. Two spots. In any other space, I’d wait patiently for him to finish before taking position. In a gay club, the rules went out the window.
I saddled up next to him, eyes forward. I fumbled with the button on my jeans, my desperation growing. The zipper dropped, and a moment later, I let out an audible “Ahhh.” With the music muffled through the walls, I didn’t realize just how loud I was. I’d be embarrassed, except for the liquid courage coursing through my veins.
“That good, huh?”
Did he talk to me? That violated at least three rules of the man code. I kept my eyes forward, unsure of what to do next. Wait… we were in a gay bar. Short of reaching over and giving his package a shake, we were safe. I don’t know if I’d thank or blame Amanda, but I stole a quick peek over the divider. Well, damn.
“So… how’s your night?”
Did he catch me looking? Wait, did he just look over? There was far too much sexual tension in this bathroom. There was also too much beer for a rational inner monologue.
“Been good,” I said. After all the talk of adventure today,I felt obligated to take a chance. Who knows, maybe this could be the start of an awkward friendship where we’d laugh about how we first met. Okay, muster my inner Amanda and try not to make a fool of myself. “Caught this cute guy checking me out.”
“Really? How cute?”
I tested my luck. I glanced over, just as interested in the possibility of his shirt hiking up to reveal a fuzzy belly as I was in getting a look at his cock. Both were impressive. I stiffened, making it impossible to finish.
“At least an eight, maybe a nine.”
“It’s thick, but hardly eight.”
“Uh… I meant…”
“I’m messing with you.” I couldn’t help but laugh, even though I wanted to ask if the bartender had a ruler and I could prove him wrong. Did my mystery man intentionally flirt? “You’re pretty damned cute yourself.”
I fought with my penis, tucking it inside my briefs and zipping up. We flushed at the same time and walked over to the sinks. As we washed our hands, we kept alternating quick looks in the mirror. He definitely looked familiar. Something was off—maybe the facial hair? Oh no, was he somebody I made out with once upon a time on the dance floor and forgot his name?
The moment had reached electric. “Do I?—”
