I avoided my flatmates- there was no way I could look them in the eye. I had been constantly moaning since Eric and I broke up about what a jerk he was, and the minute he asked I'd spread my legs? I was the worst. I skipped dinner, knowing I'd regret that in the morning and curled up in bed with some weed to help me sleep. Eric didn't like that, but fuck Eric.
-
I was in a mood the next day, but I kept it together so the boss couldn't say anything particularly nasty to me. I went out with the lads again after work, and I won a few rounds of pool. A few drinks in me, no sign of Eric and honestly, I was starting to feel pretty good.
Good enough that when I made eye contact with the tall blonde guy behind the bar and felt my stomach flutter I decided to go with it. I'd seen him before but he was usually caught up with customers and making cocktails. Maybe he wasn't gay, I couldn't tell. Maybe it would be better if he was straight given how out of practise I was at this.
He leant over the bar and blinked his green eyes at me.
"Let me guess. Negroni for you, Shirley Temple for the big fella, El Camino for the guy who seems to think a permanent cap will hide his receding hairline..." I rolled my eyes.
"Two jugs of..."
"Export. I know." I shrugged.
"It's shit, but you can't deny it's cheap."
"That's what she said" He laughed as he turned to grab the jug.
"Well I hope she appreciates that shirt isn't cheap." He slowly handed me the jugs, looking carefully at me. I didn't know shit about nice shirts except I did happen to know that particular one was commes des garcons and it had set Eric back a few hundred. He smiled incredulously at me. Cute dimples when he smiled. Cute freckles across his face which stood out when he blushed.
"Now how would you know that?" He said slowly. I shrugged.
"I make a point of knowing things that keep pretty boys happy." He blushed furiously and choked on his laughter.
"You saying I'm a pretty boy?" He teased. I think he still thought I was just being a lad so I looked him dead in the eye.
"Obviously." I said. I glanced back at him as I returned to my table, just so he knew I was checking him out.
ββ-
I offered to buy the next round as well, which was suspicious because I always tried to wriggle out of my round... I shook the lads off and said I felt bad for missing it last week.
"Back again so soon?" He took over from a colleague with a firm look. Well that was a good sign.
"Couldn't stay away." I leant over the bar and looked at the offers on tap. "I was thinking of trying something... else you have behind the bar." I said "Something blonde, maybe." I glanced up at him and he laughed in my face.
"Huh. That has to be the corniest line I've ever heard." I shrugged at him and smiled.
"Is it gonna work?" He looked thoughtfully at me.
"Probably." He stuck his hand out and I shook it. "Dylan."
"Gus."
"Come here often?" He joked as he started pouring the next round.
"First time. What's good?"
"I have it on good authority that the Export Gold, for all its faults, is cheap."
"Cheap. That's definitely up my alley."
"Well in that case you really must try the blonde behind the bar." I cracked up and paid for the drinks but I hesitated before walking away.
"Hey uh.. Dylan?"
"Yeah?"
"Um. Could I get your number?" I immediately realised what a shitty thing that was to do and blushed. "Oh fuck, sorry, you're at work. Ignore me. I'm out of practice. I know flirting is practically your job..."
"It's ok." Dylan stopped me rambling. "Here." He scribbled it down on a bit of paper near the till and tucked it in my shirt. "Makes a nice change from flirting with rich old women. We could do it some more. Over a drink even." I blinked at him.
"Um." His face fell a bit. "Sorry, I just didn't expect that to work." I laughed.
"Well, I'll be honest Gus, I really didn't expect you to swing my way. So it's been a surprising night all round."
--
Hey. It's Gus. I'm the guy who was trying to hit on you on Friday night.
You weren't trying to hit on me. You were hitting on me. Badly.
Clearly not that badly, I got your number.
Yeah which one were you?
Really?
Kidding. You're in every other night. You slaughter those guys at darts. What's up Gus?
You wanna grab that drink?
We met up at the other end of town, no chance of running into the guys from site, which I suspect Dylan knew I was cagey about. He wasn't dumb, and I wasn't exactly waving a rainbow flag.
"You been on Grindr lately?" He said as we leant over the bar.
"Ahh...?" He winced.
"Look dude, someone's gotta tell you and your mates on site wouldn't know." He opened up the app and scrolled for a second. He passed me his phone and I looked at it. Jesus.
Property of Eric Young.
Nice picture of me and all. That utter cunt. I collapsed into the bar with a groan.
"My ex." I explained. "I think he's forgotten we broke up."
"Yikes." He said. I nodded, despondent. I was finding it hard enough to move on when Eric and I hadn't seen each other for weeks. This was torture. Dylan touched my hands. "Gus... ahh... what am I in for here?" I glanced up at him. Ah fuck. He saw right through me. He rested his hand on his chin and glanced down at me. He didn't look mad. Just a bit worried.
I couldn't help but start to smile as I looked at him.
"What?" He smiled at me.
"Just..." I started to laugh. "You must think I'm really hot." I sat up. "Can't believe you still came out with me after that giant red flag." Dylan grinned and shrugged.
"I'm not scared of him." He said. "I just don't want to be the second choice when the guy you really want is busy."
"It's not like that." It was like that. I looked at Dylan properly. He was devastatingly pretty. I didn't really have any right to be out with him, he was fashion campaign, male model gorgeous. I cleared my throat. "You're ah... definitely not second choice material." He blushed and cleared his throat. "You don't need to worry about him." I lied. "Promise." Dylan looked at me. I don't think I had him fooled for a second but he sighed and sat back anyway.
"Food?"
"Usually."
"Burgers?"
"Not here." I grinned. "Fucking wanky brioche buns." He laughed and threw his hair over his shoulder.
"I like brioche buns!"
"Ugh, you totally would."
"What does that mean?!" I shrugged and pulled out my wallet. I could see him about to argue with me about that and I shook my head.
"You get the next one. What are you drinking?"
He drank some expensive, natural and hard to pronounce wine- god I really do have a type, huh? And he pointed me in the direction of a lager that in his opinion wasn't trash. We grabbed chips and wings and settled down next to each other. I asked him about work, apologising that we were always so loud and brutish.
"No, I like you guys. You're polite and you tip. It's all the corporate folks that do my head in. Act like they know so much more than me about everything as if I didn't write the wine list."
"So is wine like... your thing?"