Mike was never, ever allowing his friends to set him up on a blind date again, not even if he had to spend the rest of his life alone.
“Well, it was nice meeting you. Goodnight, then.”
An awkward handshake later, Timmy—honestly, what grown man asked a potential relationship interest to call him Timmy on the first date?—rose from the small table and headed straight for the club’s exit. Mike consoled himself with the thought that at least Timmy wasn’t stopping on the dance floor to try and pick up someone else. That would have been the last straw.
As he took several large gulps from his vodka cocktail, Mike let his gaze trail over the club. He had been there for more than an hour, and he had grown accustomed to the lack of light, enough so to appraise the club’s clientele. For someone on the market—someone like him—this certainly was a great place. All types of men crowded the place, dancing, playing pool in the back, sitting at the bar or at small tables like he and Timmy had been. All he had to do, really, was decide what he wanted. Blonde or brunette. Flamboyantly gay or more masculine. Someone tall and bulky enough to wrap him in his arms or someone with a smaller build, who would need to tilt his head up to kiss him.
Finishing his drink, Mike slipped a tip beneath his coaster and stood up, feeling a bit tipsy. He didn’t know what kind of man he wanted, in his bed or in his life, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t find him here—if for no other reason that he couldn’t imagine approaching anyone here, not even the handsome man at the bar.
Mike blinked and shook his head, trying to get a grip on thoughts that seemed as fuzzy as mist. When he looked again, the man hadn’t moved. He was sitting on a high stool at the bar, a beer bottle in his hand as he leaned back against the counter and observed the dancing crowd. His left foot tapped a beat against the bottom rung of the stool, and a small smile stretched across his lips, making him look like a picture of sheer relaxation.
He looked vaguely familiar, and as Mike stumbled his way through the crowd and toward the bar, he tried to figure out why. He was fairly certain he didn’t actually know him. Maybe he had seen him at the bar before? It had been more than six months since he had come to the club, though, and his memory for faces wasn’t that good. Even for good looking faces such as this man’s, his strong jaw balanced by a sensual mouth, bright green eyes sparkling with life as they swept over the dancers—and over Mike, too, with no glimmer of recognition in his gaze.
His eyes, though, were what decided Mike in the end to do more than just get closer. Even in the darkened room, with strobe lights pulsating over them and throwing shadows everywhere, they were captivating, drawing Mike all the way to the bar. He was going to talk to him, he told himself, remembering how his friends had teased him during their New Year party about being too shy. It would probably be a mistake, and Green Eyes was certainly going to laugh at him before he was even done talking. But he was just tipsy enough to try his luck; tipsy, and lonely, and a little bit sorry for himself.
He finally reached the bar and, sitting next to Green Eyes, he propped his cheek on his closed fist. His elbow slipped a little bit on the counter before he could catch himself again.
“I want to sleep with you,” he said, slurring the words just a little bit.
Green Eyes raised an eyebrow at him and considered him for a few seconds. “Does that pick up line usually work for you?” he asked, a wry chuckle hiding in his words.
“First time I used it,” Mike said truthfully. “Ask me again in half an hour.”
“Half an hour?” Green Eyes laughed. “You think that’s all I’m worth? Not even a full hour?”
… continued in Fourth Vision of Destiny