“Maybe, but honestly, I’m starting to wonder if there’s any hope.”
“I don’t think I’m the best person to ask about that one.” My dating life is pretty sad, and my friends aren’t much better. Our whole group is chronically single.
“Well, aren’t we depressing?” He seems to find a second wind and turns toward me. “Since we’re being blunt, can I ask you a weird question?”
“Go for it.” My mind is spinning trying to come up with what he might ask me.
“You’re at a gay bar.”
“That’s not a question.” Not exactly, but I already know the question he’s about to ask. “My friends…” I gesture toward the booth we would generally be in. “They’re all gay. I’m bi.”
He turns bright red, and I hold my breath waiting for his reply. I’ve heard a lot of biphobic crap over the years, especially since I typically date women.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean?—”
I wave him off. “Don’t worry about it.” It’s not the first or the last time someone will ask something like that. I’ve known I wasbisexual since I was a teenager. Coming out to my family went… poorly. Since then, I brace myself every time I tell someone, expecting them to spew some sort of hateful nonsense.
Like it usually does, one drink leads to two. Pretty soon, we’re both laughing, our legs intertwined between our barstools. I don’t even know how that happened. One minute we were talking about his crochet projects, and the next we were leaning in close, swapping college stories.
“Could we maybe get together again sometime?” he asks as I sign the credit card slip for the bartender. “As friends.”
Shit. I thought I hid my reaction pretty well. It’s not that I don’t like him, but things are a bit complicated at the moment with Nathan and Colt. Oliver happens to be one of those complications. “Sure. I’ll give you my number.” It doesn’t hurt to exchange a few text messages. Plus, whatever’s going on between them will work itself out at some point.
Probably.
I hand over my phone, and he puts in his number, sending himself a quick text to confirm. “You need help getting home?” I ask. I’m taking a ride share, never wanting to risk driving home buzzed after one of these nights.
“Nah, I only live two blocks from here.”
Well, that might help explain why they chose The Flaming Unicorn for this date. I know our little group acts as if it owns it, but we’re here in part because of the place’s popularity on lists of the best LGBTQIA+ places in Cardinal Falls.
“Okay, then I’ll see you around.” It’s a half-hearted commitment. “Unless…” Oliver pauses a few steps away from the counter.
“Yeah?” I hold my breath, not sure exactly what I’m hoping for.
“You could come with me? If you want.”
CHAPTER 3
OLIVER
The second we hit my front door, I know I’ve made a colossal mistake. When I’m having friends over, I use the hour before they arrive to panic-clean my apartment. That’s when I take a good, hard look around and notice all the little stacks of things that have piled up over several weeks. Or months. I don’t have people over very often.
Tonight, I didn’t go out intending to bring anyone home. Maybe that was poor planning on my part, especially since I was meeting a guy from a hook-up app, but I figured the odds of us ending up in a bedroom were slim to none. Plus, that would send all kinds of mixed messages. I want a relationship, not a one-night stand.
While that’s stilltechnicallytrue, I didn’t plan on meeting Aaron.
“Nice place,” he says once we’re inside.
Okay, that could have gone worse. “Sorry it’s such a mess.” It’s a genuine apology, but also what I say to everyone. “I’vebeen a little busy with deadlines lately.” Also genuine, but I’m always on deadline. They’re never-ending. Which has the benefit of giving me a reason to keep working, but also the downside of never getting a break.
“It looks great. I love the artwork.”Shit. I almost forgot the kind of stuff I have hanging on my walls. It’s… interesting. All the pieces are done by a friend of mine from school. She went through a period where the only thing she painted was squids in space. It’s exactly as weird as it sounds, which is why I love them. But, they’re a bit of an acquired taste.
“Thanks?” I’m not sure if he’s serious. My siblings give me shit about them, asking when I’m going to grow up and get some real artwork.
They can fuck right off. I’d rather have something whimsical that I love on my walls. Besides, I’m the one who has to look at them every single day. If they don’t like them, they’re welcome to stay the fuck out of my home.
“No, really. I like it. Whoever painted them knows a lot about space.”
