The man glanced at the floor, then gave him an easy shrug and a lopsided grin.
“Someone will clean it.” He gestured toward the vacant stall. “You go. I’ll wait.”
“Uhm…” Callahan said, even as his feet moved him into the stall. He closed the door and locked it, then almost peed all over himself out of nerves. He didn’t know what to do. Rather, he knew how to pee—which he did—before tucking himself back into his pants, but he didn’t know what to make of this attractive and brazen man waiting on the other side of the door.
“You all good in there?” the man asked. “I really gotta go.”
“Right. Sorry.” He flipped open the lock on the door and found the strangerjustthere, inches away from him. He made a show of pressing their chests together as they traded places before closing the door with a quiet latch.
Callahan ran to the sink, slipping in the spilled beer, but catching himself on the edge of the basin. He stared at himself in the mirror, judging the way his dark brown hair fanned away from his forehead, the way his blue eyes showed his age with crinkles around the edges. Needing a distraction, he washed his hands and avoided his own reflection until the door to the stall behind him opened, and then the man was there again.
So close.
And he smelled so good.
Callahan stepped aside, pulling more towels than he needed out of the dispenser and drying his hands while the other guy washed. And then he waited. He didn’t know why he waited, and as soon as he realized that’s what he was doing, he reached for the door to let himself out.
“Ready?” the man was beside him again, and he reached over, flicking the lock and waiting for Callahan to open the door.
As soon as they were back in the hallway, the loud and steady bass beats vibrated Callahan’s bones, finally, a noise louder in his ears than his own heart.
“Come dance with me.”
The request fell hot against his ears, and he shivered. The man took his hand and dragged him toward the dance floor.
“I don’t know your name,” Callahan said.
“Jay.”
Jay pulled him onto the dance floor, and pressed in close.
“Is this okay?”
“It’s different,” he managed to answer.
“Is different okay?” Jay asked.
Callahan wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t the first different thing that had happened to him that day. Jay smelled so good and his hands were so soft, and Callahan thought maybe a dance would be okay.
“One dance,” he said.
Jay smiled at him and slid his arms around Callahan’s waist. “One dance and then you come home with me.”
“What now?” His eyes widened.
“One dance,” Jay said, starting a seductive sway of his hips that had Callahan losing his balance all over again.
It was easy to get lost in the music and the moves and the feeling, and before he knew it, one dance turned into two, into three, and then Callahan’s back was pressed against the wall beside the speaker, the bass thumping through him with every drumbeat.
“One more dance,” Jay whispered, dangerously close to his mouth, “then you come home with me.”
“I’m not,” he protested. “I can’t.”
“Then a kiss,” Jay tilted his head to the side and their noses pressed together.
He couldn’t have been more than an inch from Callahan’s mouth, where every other part of their bodies were already aligned, and in some instances…already hard. Every instinct he had screamed at him to say no, to push Jay away and go home like he’d planned. But there was one very small, and very insecure and lonely part of himself that was louder than the rest. It told him yes, yes, let this man kiss you until you can’t see straight.
“Just one kiss,” he consented.
