Chapter One
Grayson
Sparkling go-go boys pressed bare chest to bare chest on an elevated dance platform, and lights flashed between deep purple and a rich, dark blue.
The music throbbed, like some techno beast was hungry.
Silver seemed to glint off every corner, and the air was thick with pheromones and musky, woodsy scents.
“Damn,” I muttered to myself. “Why haven’t I been going to gay bars this whole time?”
It wasn’t like I was new to this gay thing.
Not exactly, at least.
I’d had plenty of stops on the way to figuring myself out as a gay man. My path in life went from being raised as a straight girl, to coming out as bisexual, then announcing I was a lesbian, and then transitioning genders and heading over for a stop in life as a straight man before I finally figured myself out and landed where I stood tonight.
A twenty-seven-year-old transgender man who felt like it was my first time in a gay bar, ten years after I first snuck out of my parents’ house and drove my dad’s truck to a lesbian dive in Louisville with My Chemical Romance blaring on the stereo.
I chuckled to myself, then approached the bar. Delilah’s in Louisville had just as much glitz as this place and more than enough throbbing, but one thing definitely made tonight’s bar different.
All the sweating, dancing, distractingly hot men.
Which, I guess, was the point.
“Gin and tonic,” I hollered to the bartender, then stopped myself. “Actually, whiskey on the rocks.” I resisted the urge to make it a double, then turned, leaning my elbows back against the bar in a failed attempt to relax.
“This your first time here, handsome?” A man with striking silver eyes and hair appeared at my side. He had a stylish suit jacket over a buttoned shirt and a cocky curl to his lips that made clear his intentions. As I opened my mouth to answer, he licked his tongue across his lips, and my voice stalled in my throat. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember a tight little booty like yours if I’d seen it before.”
Heat flamed my cheeks. I turned, taking my whiskey from the bartender with a thanks, and tossed down a couple dollars for a tip.Is that really your line?I wanted to ask.Like, really?
But instead, I fumbled, unable to make a normal sentence form in my mouth. I took a sip of the whiskey, then had to force down a cough when the burn hit my throat.
What are the rules in a gay bar, anyway? How do you turn someone down?
And how the hell do you avoid the creeps who talk about your booty?
“Oh, don’t give him any attention, honey,” another man said, appearing before us. He had a little glitter across his eyes and a perky smile on his lips. “He hits on every cute new young thing that comes through here. Likes to charm ‘em and then disappear, don’t you, Hank?”
Hank sneered at us, then turned away. The man with the glitter rolled his eyes and laughed in response, his voice chiming out like the music of the club. He was incredibly handsome, with a strong jaw and a shadow of a blonde beard, but when he smiled, his face lit up with a glow that I could only describe as pretty. There was a flush across his golden skin, and the dark blue of his eyes seemed to sparkle as much as his makeup.
Beautiful.
I had no idea men could be so beautiful, in fact. But when this man smiled at me, the rest of the club disappeared, and it was like only his glow remained, keeping me warm and safe.
“Thanks for that,” I said.
“No problem,” he answered. “Hank there will always leave guys alone if they say no, but still…” He trailed his eyes up and down me, drinking in my body and sending a jolt of pleasure through my core. “Someone as good-looking as you, you’re going to be batting down guys all night as it is.”
A blush rose up my chest, pinking my neck. I knew I was decent-looking, but I definitely wasn’t accustomed to other guys telling me that. “I guess all the men here are forward, huh?”
The man laughed warmly, and the pounding of my heart softened, like a tension was released. “I’m Marco,” he said. “You haven’t been to The Forty-Eight before?”
I shook my head quickly. “First time. My name’s Grayson.”
“Are you new to Philadelphia?”
“I’ve been here for three years,” I said. “Not that long, but I only just recently started going out again.” I paused as Marco kept my eyes with his gaze, then shrugged. “I moved here with my ex.”
