By the time he made it to the “straight friendly” bar, the place was hopping. There were people everywhere, and Mark went directly to get a drink.
He knew the looks he was getting, but at least the dyke behind the bar didn’t seem to care. He winced internally at the slur. He knew better than that.
He got himself a beer and sat on the last barstool with his back to the wall. Best place to people-watch and nobody could get behind him.
Mark sipped his beer and tried to relax. The music was okay tonight. He could recognize Imagine Dragons at least. He decided to ignore the people around him for now, he wasn’t ready to be approached or approach anyone yet. Just as he turned his head, the song changed to something seventies sultry, and a man walked through the small crowd and came to lean on the bar.
He had a tiredness to him, as if maybe this was his after-work drink. There was something utterly captivating about him, though, as he waited for the bartender to serve the ones before him.
When the man turned his gaze to Mark, he felt pinned to the spot. The man tilted his head minutely as he appeared to read Mark in a way nobody had before.
Mark knew he was being checked out, which was nothing new, but done by this particular man it was more than that. He felt as if the stranger dissected him in every possible way with just one look. Mark bristled.
He wasn’t sure what the man saw in his expression, but the corner of his mouth rose and his eyes became knowing. And then the fucking dyke behind the bar went and caught the man’s attention, tearing it away from Mark.
He felt shaken for both his inability to control the hatred in his head and the way the guy had made him feel with minimum effort. He clutched his bottle like a lifeline, battling the urge to hide, to run away. His heart was beating too fast and he forced himself to breathe as he took small sips of his beer to calm his nerves.
One glance from someone he didn’t know was all it took. How fucked up was he exactly?Jesus.
Chapter Two
Francis’s hands shook. He adjusted the badge hanging from the breast pocket of his nurse’s uniform as he waited for his boss to be done with her call. He’d been summoned upstairs, and while he knew what it was about, he couldn’t help the panic that tried to crawl up from his stomach to his chest and constrict his lungs.
The door opened. “Francis, come on in.”
He got to his feet and walked into Talia’s office. She was a strict boss, but understanding and friendly, and things would be fine, right?
“Have a seat.” She went to sit behind her desk and leveled a look at him when he sat on the visitor’s chair. “So, I think you know why I called you here?”
“Uh, yes, I think so. I—” He stopped and took a deep breath, steeling himself against the nausea.
“Hey, Francis, look at me,” Talia said in a kind tone. “I know you didn’t do what Josh is saying you did, but we need to figure out the next steps, okay?”
The words shook him to the core, and he couldn’t help the sob of relief that bubbled up from his chest. “Oh my God….” He grabbed a tissue when she held out the box to him. He dabbed at his eyes, not at all surprised when the thin paper caught some moisture.
“Can you tell me what actually happened?” she asked after he’d calmed down.
“You know we’ve been friends, right?” At her nod, he continued. “It’s always been platonic, and I’ve explained that to him a few times after he’s tried to hit on me. I thought he finally understood. We went to the movies yesterday like we do every week, and afterward he acted like we were on a date.”
Talia frowned. “You’ve told him you weren’t interested in him, and he ignored that?”
“Yeah, and earlier today, he….” Francis had to calm himself down again. His skin was crawling like crazy. “He asked me what my Thanksgiving plans were and if we’d spend it together. He made it sound like we were a couple, when….” He felt the nausea again and swallowed convulsively. He couldn’t understand how things had gone so wrong.
Talia handed him a bottle of water from the tray she had on her desk. Francis drank it slowly, knowing it would make him settle a bit.
“This was right before he came to me, right?” she prompted after a while.
“Y-yeah, a bit over half an hour ago, I think. I took him aside to the breakroom and very firmly explained to him that I didn’t want to date him now or ever. That my feelings for him were friendly and nothing else, and I was feeling claustrophobic with his attempts to make it more. He said he understood, but I saw something in his eyes when he left me there.”
“You weren’t surprised when I called you up?”
“No. I… I don’t know what he said for you to do that, though.”
Talia grimaced. “He came in and told me you’d tried to touch him inappropriately.”
Francis’s brain screeched to a halt. “W-what?”
“He says you’ve done it before, but he’s managed to get away. But now you cornered him in the breakroom, made sure he couldn’t escape, and touched him.”
