The lead singer of the band shouted a question into the mic—something about a good time tonight—and the crowds around us erupted. The guy next to me clenched his teeth so hard I could actually hear them grinding together.
“What’s your problem with country music?” Because really, why come to a music festival if you were going to hate the acts that were playing?
“Hate it.”
“Really? Never would have guessed.” I paused for a minute, cocking my head. Now I thought about it… “Wanna knowsomething?” I ignored his predictable “no.” “I don’t like it, either. Or, I guess, I’ve never really listened to it enough to form an opinion. Except for that song ‘Country Roads,’ which they seem to have adopted as an anthem for every fucking sport. Is that even country? It has the word ‘country’ in the title, so I guess?—”
“Do you ever fucking shut up?”
“I was talking to myself. Not you. You butted in where you weren’t welcome.”
His lips twitched. On anyone else, I might’ve thought it was amusement, but honestly, I doubted this guy even knew what a smile was.
“I guess I deserved that,” he said eventually.
“You did. Why are you still here listening if you don’t even like it?”
“None of your business.”
I took in his closed-off expression and mentally shrugged. Fuck it. No one knew me here. This could either go completely wrong or unexpectedly right, and I had nothing to lose either way with this stranger, who intrigued me in what was probably a very unhealthy way. You know, since he was clearly an antisocial wanker.
“Okay. Forget I asked. Uh, weird question. Are you homophobic, and if not, do you know where the best place to find gay bars is?”
His jaw literally dropped. “What?”
Okay. Maybe I could have phrased that abitdifferently. I should probably break it down. One question at a time. “Are you homophobic? Yes or no?”
“No.”
I ignored his muttered “what the fuck?” “Good. Next question. Do you happen to know of any discreet gay bars around here?”
“I’m not gay.”
Oh, there was the growl again. I sighed.
“Didn’t say you were. I was just asking a question. By the way, did you realise you’re still holding on to me?”
He dropped my arm as if I’d burned him. “I’m not local—I, okay, I live here, but I don’t know about any gay bars.”
Despite the fact that I couldn’t even see his face, I thought I could detect an undercurrent of panic in his tone. My question had been worth a try, and there was something weirdly enjoyable about getting under his skin, but I wasn’t enough of an asshole to continue a conversation that was clearly making him uncomfortable.
“Okay. No problem. I’ll leave you to it.”
When I moved back, he moved forwards, grabbing my wristagain. “I guess anything’s better than standing here and letting my ears bleed. Let’s go.”
Go?Both of us? What the actual fuck? His unexpected capitulation left me in a state of shock, and by the time I recovered, we were in a cab, heading to—wherever we were going.
“Can we exchange names?” I said.
He hesitated for a second, glancing at the cabbie, who was switching between focusing on the road and what sounded like a heated conversation through his Bluetooth headset. “Names only. I don’t want to know anything about you. I’m…Conan.”
Fine by me. “I’m John.” There was no way I was gonna give this guy my real name. That was basic stranger etiquette, and while he didn’t appear to have recognised me, the cab driver might, and I wasn’t going to risk a publicity scandal when I didn’t even know if I was— I bit down on my lip, discreetly rubbing my suddenly sweaty palms on my jeans. This was why I was doing this tonight, here, far away from home and everyone who thought they knew me.
He didn’t even acknowledge me, turning to stare out of the window as we rolled down the city streets, eventually coming to a stop next to a nondescript brown brick building. The street itself was completely silent, and I swallowed hard as my delayed self-preservation instincts kicked in.
“Get out,” he hissed, shoving the door open and unfolding his large body from the cab. When he slammed the door behind him, I sighed, leaning forwards to speak to the driver.
“Cheers, mate.” The driver barely acknowledged me either, too engrossed in his call, and so I exited the cab, joining Conan on the pavement.
