I must’ve laughed harder than I realized, because the woman next to me—a middle-aged lady in a cardigan with a reusable grocery tote on her lap—snapped her head around.She blinked at me, expressing a blend of suspicion and concern, like she’d accidentally sat beside a madman.A beat later, she gathered her bag, stood up, and shuffled down the aisle to take another seat.
That did it.I clapped a hand over my mouth, but nervous giggles still bubbled up from somewhere deep in my chest.Holy hell.Maybe I was losing my marbles.
No—no, not losing them.Just… delayed.I was going through stuff I should’ve figured out as a teenager.How to talk to people.How to flirt.How not to look like I’d been raised in a monastery and released into society on a trial basis.Back when other kids were fumbling through crushes and heartbreaks, I was burying myself in theology textbooks, praying for certainty, praying for a future where my doubts would vanish if I just worked harder.And here I was, nearly thirty, laughing like an idiot on a city bus because I had no idea how to talk to a man I liked.
I was still chuckling when I caught sight of the window.The bus stop I needed slid right past.
“Crap.”
I scrambled to my feet and pressed the plastic strip along the wall.A chime dinged, the bus wheezed to the curb, and a moment later I was out on the sidewalk, retracing my steps with the late summer heat pressing down on me.
A block later, Babylon appeared.
I stopped cold.
The building itself wasn’t much—dark brick, neon lettering in purples and reds glowing faintly even in the fading daylight.But hanging just above the entrance, catching the breeze like it was waving to me personally, was a rainbow flag.
Shit.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly desert-dry.
Until recently, the rainbow had been something I only noticed from the corner of my eye: on stickers, shirts, banners in parades I’d never dared attend.Now it was right here, marking the doorway I was about to step through.A declaration.A threshold.
Well, if I’d only just admitted my sexuality to myself, I might as well make it official by walking through a rainbow-covered entrance.Baptism by neon light.
My feet carried me forward before my brain could protest.I reached the window and peered inside.
It looked… like a bar.Not much different from the Irish pub near campus, except here the crowd skewed heavily male.Very heavily.In fact, from where I stood, I didn’t see a single woman.Just men, leaning against the bar with cocktails, laughing in little clusters at tables, shoulders brushing shoulders in a way that was casual and intimate all at once.
My stomach lurched.
What was I going to say to Noah again?The communion wafer joke?God forbid.
I hovered there, a sweaty stranger peeping through the glass like I was casing the place.A couple of guys walked up—handsome, confident, mid-twenties maybe—and slowed as they caught me staring.One of them gave me a once-over that was more curious than hostile.The other arched a brow, like well, are you coming in or not?Then, without a word, they pushed through the door and disappeared inside.
I inhaled.Exhaled.Straightened my shoulders like I was preparing to defend a dissertation.
Then I did it.
I pushed the door open and stepped into a gay bar for the very first time.
The air hit me first—cooler than outside, tinged with citrus cleaner, cheap beer, and a faint musky cologne that seemed to cling to the walls.The low thump of bass vibrated through the floorboards.Neon lights painted everything in pinks and blues, cutting sharp shadows across the faces at the bar.The music wasn’t loud enough to drown out conversation, but loud enough to make it feel like everyone was speaking in secrets.
Everywhere I looked, men.Laughing, drinking, leaning in close, brushing shoulders, tossing casual touches that sent a little zing through my chest.I wanted to both hide and gape.
I knew I didn’t belong—not yet.My shirt was too buttoned, my shoes too practical, my posture too stiff.I was standing on the threshold of something I’d never dared imagine, my pulse rattling in my ears.
And somewhere in here was Noah.
The room pressed in on me, warm and loud and humming with an energy I didn’t know how to carry in my chest.My eyes darted everywhere, desperate to land on Noah’s face, on the familiar curve of his smile, on something steady in this neon chaos.But he wasn’t there—not at the door, not near the tables.
The bar stretched across the rear of the room, a glowing line of bottles lit from beneath, and that seemed like the safest destination.Heart pounding, I wove my way through the crowd, sidestepping shoulders and ducking my head when I caught someone’s eye.By the time I reached the polished wood counter, I felt like I’d just run a mile in full vestments.
“What’ll it be, gorgeous?”
I nearly jumped out of my shoes.
The bartender stood before me wearing… very little.Tight blue jeans that looked painted on, a black leather harness framing a chest that gleamed faintly under the bar lights.His hair was messy in an intentional way, his smile lazy, and practiced.He leaned forward on strong arms, his biceps flexing.
