Chapter 1 - One Year Ago
MATTHEW
Myheadpoundslikesomeone’s operating a jackhammer behind my eyes as I walk into the hotel bar. The smooth jazz playing softly over the sound system is oddly soothing and the pain in my head eases slightly as I pause, letting my eyes adjust to the lower lighting. The wall behind the bar is brick, and there are industrial accents throughout the space, but the furniture is soft and inviting. Plush chairs are gathered around low tables, and votive candles flickering cast a warm glow throughout the space.
“Make yourself comfortable anywhere you like. I’ll be right over to take your order.” A pretty young server smiles at me as she passes by with a tray of drinks.
I hadn’t intended to stay at the office so late, but unsurprisingly, I got sucked into a project and lost track of the time.
Making my way over to a quiet corner, I settle into one of the low couches and look around. Set off to one side of the hotel lobby, the lounge has a welcoming vibe, like most places in Chicago.
As soon as I’m settled, the server approaches and I order an expensive whiskey and some appetizers. It’s not exactly a doctor-recommended strategy, but I’m hoping a little alcohol will help me fall asleep faster. If the stars all align, maybe I’ll even sleep through the night.
Sinking back into the comfortable seat, I pull out my phone out of habit. Michele hasn’t texted since there’s really no reason to. I'm just so accustomed to checking for messages from her, it feels strange not to. She told me before I left on this trip that she’s already found a condo, so when I get home, her things will already be moved out. I understand why she wants to cut the cord, and she’s probably right, but it still stings. After more than two decades, three kids and building a multi-million-dollar company, she’s finally had enough of playing second fiddle to whatever else is going on my life. She has rightly decided she deserves more than what I’ve been giving her. Can’t blame her for that.
Before I can sink too far into those moody thoughts, my drink arrives, so I waste no time taking a sip, closing my eyes to let the smoke and vanilla flavor spread over my tongue.
When I open them, my gaze is drawn to an attractive guy at the bar. He’s younger than me, maybe in his mid-thirties, with thick, sandy blond hair that flops carelessly over his forehead. When the bartender asks him a question, I notice his broad shoulders as he leans in to answer. He’s got the all-American good looks of a Texas high school quarterback, and the easy way interacts with people around him suggests the kind of confidence you get from living your entire life as one of the ‘beautiful people’. One of those people who everyone else either wants to be with, or just wants to be.
The server comes by with my selection of small plates, so I order another whiskey, and when she walks away, I’m surprised to find my mystery man staring right back at me.
He's wearing a well-cut blue dress shirt, and there's a suit jacket thrown casually over the back of his barstool. He says a few more words to the bartender, and then turns back to me. Caught staring, I flash him a sheepish smile, averting my eyes quickly and taking a drink.
Looking up a moment later, I’m shocked to find him standing beside my table, his icy blue eyes trained on me. Now that he’s closer, I can see he’s probably closer to my age than I first thought; the laugh lines around his eyes betray his age, although he still gives off the vibe of a thirty-something. He gives me a friendly smile, and his eyes crinkle up at the corners.He must laugh a lot. Suddenly I have this vivid image of myself making him laugh, then grabbing him and planting tiny little mini kisses on those laugh lines.Jesus, what the hell is in this Scotch?
“Hi there,” his deep voice is almost like gravel. “I noticed you seem to look exactly how I feel right now, like you’ve been ‘rode hard and put away wet’, so I thought I’d offer to buy you a friendly drink.” He gives me a slightly crooked smile.
“Oh, um, I- ah” I stutter.Smooth, Matthew. Is he trying to pick me up? Am I giving off some kind of gay vibe right now? I’m not gay, but my body is responding to this man, and I don't know why. It feels weird. Oddly, it’s also sort of thrilling, since I haven’t felt this sort of physical pull to anyone for a long time, man or woman.
“Sure, why not?” I finally say, right as my lack of response is heading toward awkward territory.
He holds out his hand for me to shake “I’m Case,” he says with a smile that makes my insides flutter.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Matt,” I say, shaking his hand. “Have a seat.”
He settles into the low couch across from me. “So, I assume you’re from out of town too, since we’re in a hotel bar?” he grins, taking a sip from his drink.
“You would assume correctly,” I return his grin. “I'm heading home to Seattle tomorrow. Yourself?”
“San Diego,” Case says. “I’m here for a conference, and there’s one day left, but I think I might play hooky tomorrow. I’d forgotten how great this city is.”
“I know, I love Chicago too,” I smile sincerely. “Great food everywhere, friendly people; what more can you ask for?”
“Well, I could ask for better weather.” Case grins. “I grew up in California, so I prefer snow stay in the mountains where it belongs. I’m happy to ski on it, but I don’t love the driving in it.” We both chuckle.
We make small talk for a while, and I learn he’s a psychological researcher, running a study on mental health in LGBTQ youth, and he’s been in Chicago presenting some of his preliminary findings at a conference.
“That sounds fascinating,” I say, impressed. “I work with a game development studio. It's fun, but there's no life-saving research happening on my watch.” I never offer the information that I actually own the studio. We've grown big enough that even people who know nothing about video games are aware of us, and it always leads to lots of work questions. It's usually great, but tonight, I don’t want to be 'Matthew Cartwright, successful tech entrepreneur'. I want a night off from worrying about how every move I make could reflect on the company. I just want to be Matt; a guy looking to have a good time and see where the night leads him.
Case is easy to talk to, and it’s impossible for me to ignore the way my body is responding to him. I’ve always been able to appreciate physically attractive guys, but this visceral reaction I’m having is something else again. I’m not sure I’ve ever reacted to anyone this way. Before I realize it, we've been talking for several hours, and I might have had too much Scotch. That’s the only reasonable explanation for the increasingly explicit images of the two of us together that keep popping into my head.
Michele and I got married young, right after college, and we missed out on a lot of things our friends got to experience. When we divorced, we talked about wanting to experience some of those things now, in a whole 'better late than never' philosophy. I chuckle to myself, since somehow I don’t think fucking a stranger in a hotel room is what either of us had in mind, but hell, what do I have to lose? I’m a newly single, successful, 40-something. Maybe I should let myself have this experience. Does that mean I’m gay? I don’t think so, but I don’t think I care if it does. The chemistry between Case and me is just about impossible to resist. Truthfully, I'm not even sure I want to.
Chapter 2
CASE
Eveninthedimlight of the hotel lounge, the man sitting across from me takes my breath away. On their own, none of his features are all that striking, but put together, they create a face I can’t seem to stop looking at. His full lips are slightly parted, and every so often he darts the tip of his tongue out to moisten them. His chocolate brown eyes are almost too big for his face, but when he turns them on me, I feel like he’s got me pinned under a microscope. It’s like he can see things in me no one else can. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I can’t think of another way to describe it.
