Saturday

THE LIGHTS WERE flashing and strobing but not in time with the music. It made Gabe’s head hurt.

He hated clubs these days. Nobody came out until after 11:00 p.m., and Gabe was ready for bed by then.

But Maggie was right. He’d been obsessing over Mark since he saw the woman driving his car. Well, he’d been obsessing over Mark before then, but now he really needed to get over it.

He’d turned off his Cruised notifications on Friday morning but couldn’t bring himself to delete the app. He didn’t quite block Mark’s number either, but he shut off those notifications too. He hadn’t checked the app or his texts, but his phone was burning a hole in his pocket.

Gabe managed to find some open space at the bar and leaned back against it to watch the dance floor. He wasn’t a dancer, but it was nice to see how the other guys moved out there. See who he might want to take home.

God, he was a creep.

No. No, he wasn’t. This was how it was done. There were plenty of men there for the same thing. Plenty of single men, which was the point.

A guy slid up to the bar beside him. He pushed in, and Gabe inched over to give him more room.

He mouthed a “thank you” to Gabe. It was way too loud to hear him, but Gabe got the message. Gabe tried not to be conspicuous while the guy shouted his order over the music, but he was definitely worth checking out.

He was shorter than Gabe but not by a lot. He had spikey, dyed blond hair with dark roots showing through. The sleeves had been artfully ripped away from his T-shirt. Gabe checked out his flexing biceps in the blue-and-red flashing lights as he reached for his drink.

He turned around but didn’t walk away from the bar. Instead, he propped his hip against it and faced Gabe.

“Hey,” he shouted over the music. Even with the shouting, Gabe barely heard him.

Gabe bent toward him until their shoulders brushed together. “Hey.” He ducked his head so his ear was close to the other guy’s mouth. This way, they wouldn’t have to shout.

“I’ve never seen you here before.” The guy was still shouting a bit, but the music was loud. His breath brushed against Gabe’s ear.

“Yeah, not really my scene.”

The guy grinned at him. One of his teeth was crooked in an endearing sort of way. He was cute. “I’m Carter.”

“Gabe.” It would probably be strange to shake hands in a club, so Gabe didn’t offer. But he wasn’t sure what to do next.

Carter was still grinning at him. “Do you dance?”

“No, man, not really.” The shouting was getting old. And Gabe didn’t want to dance. He was terrible at it, and showcasing his eighth-grade dance moves didn’t seem the way to end up in someone’s pants.

He should have stayed home with Cruised. But Mark might have messaged him, and Gabe would respond if he saw it.

Carter bumped their shoulders together. He crowded against Gabe. The pressure warmed him. “Come on! You’re in a dance club!”

He did have a point. But Gabe didn’t know any gay bars that didn’t have massive dance floors. Other than the old-man-sports-bar-type gay bars. Should he take a chance Carter wouldn’t be so turned off by his flailing and rocking out of beat with the music that he’d run away? If he did, oh well, plenty of fish in the sea. Or guys in the club. Or whatever.

“Okay. Let’s go.” Gabe tried to sound enthusiastic. Carter probably didn’t notice over the pounding bass anyway.

Carter slammed the rest of his drink and pressed more heavily into Gabe as he slid his plastic cup onto the bar. He touched Gabe’s arm, under the cuff of his T-shirt, and trailed his fingers down to his elbow. For a second, Gabe thought about Mark holding his hand and hoped Carter wasn’t about to do the same.

Instead, Carter let his hand drop after a quick squeeze to Gabe’s elbow.

Carter headed to the dance floor without glancing back. Gabe considered making a break for it. Part of him wanted to be at home, under his covers, trading messages with Mark. Mark—the no-good, on-the-downlow cheater.

Gabe took a couple steps toward the dance floor. Carter had made it and worked his way past the edge. He turned to face Gabe and started swinging his hips, hands above his head, in time with the music.

He wouldn’t know unless he tried.

 

WELL, HE’D TRIED, and it was awful.

They’d danced, with Carter grinding against him. It was…nice. But it was nothing compared to what he felt when he was with Mark.

Would Mark roll his hips against Gabe when they danced? Did Mark even dance? Gabe should ask him next time they spoke.

Except they weren’t going to speak again.

Gabe followed Carter into the alley alongside the club. People came out there to smoke and sometimes fool around. He let Carter ease him against the damp brick wall and kiss him. Carter was a good kisser. Not too sloppy, not too aggressive.

It was nothing like Mark kissed.

Gabe pushed on Carter’s chest until he moved away, breaking the kiss.

“Hey, I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.” Gabe stepped around Carter so the wall was no longer at his back. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I shouldn’t have come out tonight.”

Carter didn’t even look angry. “It’s cool, dude. Some other time.”

Carter didn’t sound like he believed it. Gabe’s disinterest must have been obvious because if gay men were anything, they were always cynically hopefully about their next hookup.

Gabe nodded and turned away to walk down the alley, past the smokers, and back to the street. There was no point in returning to the club. Some other time, he’d have jumped in Carter’s pants.

 

HE MADE IT all the way home before he gave in and tapped open Cruised. One message from someone he didn’t know. He deleted it unread. Gabe did a cursory flick through of all the guys who popped up on his radar. It was all the same headless torsos he usually saw.

He checked his texts next. Three new messages since yesterday morning, all from Mark. Gabe tapped them open and scrolled to Mark’s oldest message.

 

Friday, 11:04 a.m.

I’m sorry we missed today. I would have liked to see you.

 

Friday, 8:19 p.m.

I’ve been thinking about you. I can’t get your hands, mouth, or cock out of my mind. Your face isn’t so bad either. :)

 

The man had actually typed out an early aughts-style emoticon rather than using an emoji. Gabe snorted. Mark was ridiculous.

 

Saturday, 5:17 p.m.

I hope you’re having a good weekend. I can’t wait to see you again. Monday?

 

Gabe shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. But what kind of hookup sent you three messages when he couldn’t see you? Three nice messages even! Sexy but not gross. No unsolicited dick pics, yet.

Not that Gabe would mind getting a dick pic from Mark at this point…

No, he would mind because Mark was married or at least in a relationship strong enough to give the woman his expensive car for the day.

Gabe didn’t want to ghost on him. It’d be rude even if Mark was a cheating bastard. He also didn’t have the strength to call Mark out.

 

Sunday, 12:32 a.m.

dont think I can on Monday

 

Gabe groaned. That sounded a lot like ghosting.

 

Sunday, 12:32 a.m.

i’m not sure we should see each other

 

Gabe deleted the last three words. They weren’t seeing each other. It wasn’t as if Mark had asked him to dinner. They were fucking in bathrooms. That was it.

 

Sunday, 12:33 a.m.

i’m not sure we should meet again

 

He hit Send before he changed his mind.

He dropped his phone on the couch and rubbed his hands across his face. He needed a shower to get the club smell out of his hair, and he needed to get out of this pair of tight jeans before he cut off circulation to something vital.

Saturday night and he was ready for sweatpants and Netflix before 1:00 a.m. What a suave anonymous hookup guy he turned out to be.

Gabe picked up his phone and flipped on Do Not Disturb. To be safe, he stuffed it between his couch cushions. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

Yeah, that didn’t seem to work. Gabe thought about how his phone was just a room away until he passed out in bed with canned laughter calling out from his laptop.