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Maybe I should have tried online first. Maybe I’ve been overly ambitious. Way too ambitious.
I’m ready to call it a night, swigging back the rest of my beer when a guy arrives from behind and sits down next to me. It makes me jump.
“Gets a bit daunting on your debut, right?” he says with a wink. “Don’t worry. I got you.”
The man beside me reeks of tailored charisma. His black tie is loose, but his suit is still clearly fabulous. His hair is a short, perfect tumble of blond, and he has deep blue eyes under fair brows. But it’s his smile that matters most. Bright and bold. Easy, like a natural joker.
His very presence is enough that I breathe a sigh of relief, no longer a sad loner on a barstool. And then I have to laugh at myself.
“It’s that obvious I’m a newcomer, is it?” I look around, registering how many people must know I’m a new face in the crowd. The regulars must know pretty much everyone. “I was about to bolt,” I admit, and point to the door. “I’m glad someone sent an emissary, thank you.”
His brows lower, his grin still bright.
“An emissary?” He pauses. “Ah, right. You think I’m one of this lot?” He points behind him. “Nah. I’ve never been here before. I’m a first timer here, like you.” He holds out his hand. “Howdy, newbie. I’m Jack.”
I shake his hand, noting the strong grip. “Bryce. Pleased to meet you.”
He looks at my empty beer glass. “Can I get you a refill, or you still gonna bolt?”
Jack is unabashed as he stares at me dead on, smile bright. His demeanour makes it easy to grin back at him.
“I’d love one, thanks, and no, I’m good. I’ll stay, now I’m not a terrified loner.”
“Hampton Brewer you’re drinking, right?” he says, and points to my empty glass.
“Yes, please.”
Jack orders two of them from the bartender. His face has got great proportions. Proud cheekbones and a strong chin under his joker smile. I bet he was born suave.
“How did you know I’m new here?” I ask. “Did I reek of being out of my depth or something?”
He shuffles his stool closer, and points to my phone. “May I demonstrate?”
“Sure. Knock yourself out.” I hand it over.
“You have a major tell,” he says.
“A tell?”
“You were scrolling up and down, like this. Practically clockwork. Idle thumb.” He mimics me. “Plus, you were tapping your foot like a staccato. It wasn’t to the beat.”
I stare at the guy in shock, because he’s spot on. I do tap my foot when I’m nervous, and I was barely even looking at my screen earlier, just making the motions. He’s an observant sonofabitch.
He thanks the bartender when our drinks are delivered and raises his beer. “Here’s to us newcomers. Cheers, Bryce. What brings you here?”
I pick up my glass and clink it with his.
“Cheers! The same thing that brings you here, I’d imagine, since it’s a gay club.”
He takes a long drink and I follow suit.
“I’m talking finer details,” he says, licking the froth from his lip. “Are you seeking a lifelong companion kind of dick, or a one-nighter dose of dick? Or something in between? Give me the lowdown.”
This guy, Jack, thrums with electric playboy energy. He could have picked almost anyone in this place, that’s a certainty. I get a glow I haven’t felt in years. Not since Sylvia ground my self-esteem into the dirt at every opportunity.
There must be over two hundred people in this club, and Jack chose to approach me. The idle scrolling foot tapper.
He’s still looking at me as he takes another sip of his beer, waiting for my answer.
