We arrive at the bar. It’s a cozy place with low lights and exposed brick, humming with activity, but not so busy that we can’t find a table. We slide into a small booth toward the back, order drinks, and settle in.
“Didn’t you say some of your out-of-town friends were coming in early for the wedding?” I ask.
“Mmm,” Zoe says, sipping the Cosmopolitan she’s just snatched from the waiter before he could even set it down. “A bunch of them are already here. Making a whole holiday vacation of it.”
“So how come you didn’t invite them to join us?”
“Oh.” She blinks, looking a little at a loss for words, just for a second. “Oh, well, a lot of them aren’t my friends, just Lucaand Cory’s. And the ones I do know are all coupled up, so… you know…”
Not really. But whatever. She obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, which is fine. I take a sip of my beer. It’s from some small craft label I’ve never heard of. Not bad. I wipe the foam from my lip and, as I do, I notice a guy standing at the bar looking my way. He raises his glass toward me and gives a little nod.
Uh. Okay. I nod back, not wanting to be rude.
Zoe smiles, glancing over her shoulder. “You made a friend.”
“Uh, I guess.”
“Hey,” says a low, gravelly voice, just then, way too close to me. I jump, looking up to see a very handsome man smiling down at me.
“Hi…” I say, because he doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“Um…”
“I need to go to the little girl’s room,” Zoe practically squeaks. She jumps up, grabbing her bag, and then—honest to God—she winks at me.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
Handsome McHandsome clears his throat next to me. I plaster on a polite smile.
“I don’t think so. But thank you.”
“Alrighty. Let me know if you change your mind.” And then he winks too, and I start to feel like I’m in an episode ofThe Twilight Zone.
A quick but targeted survey of my surroundings seems to indicate that—yup—we’re in a gay bar. It also results in me noticing another man starting to head in my direction, a sexy smile plastered on his face, before I hold up my hand to stop him. It’s probably rude, but I really don’t want to be chatted up right now.
I take a sip of my beer and mull the situation.
Am I going crazy here? Suddenly, I really need to check in with the one person I know who would know.
I fish out my phone and text.
Hey, what are the odds Zoe taking me to both a queer running club this morning and a gay bar tonight is just a coincidence?
This is Owen, by the way, in case you don’t have my contact info stored.
I tap my foot anxiously. Then it suddenly occurs to me I’ve just broken our unspoken email-only rule by texting George. But before I can worry about it, his reply comes in.
Oh God, I am so sorry.
He doesn’t seem bothered that I’m texting him, so I continue.
That’s what I was afraid of.
She means well…
…But she can’t help herself?
