Chapter 127 Jealousy Unmasked
Alex: POV
I turned my head and immediately regretted it. Two guys were locked in a passionate kiss at the corner of the bar, one practically devouring the other's face.
I quickly averted my gaze only to land on another couple—a man straddling another guy's lap, enthusiastically sucking on his neck like some horny vampire.
Jesus Christ. I took another gulp of whiskey, feeling suddenly out of place.
The bartender caught my eye and smirked, clearly noticing my discomfort. I'd come here for answers, but this was... a lot.
"First time in a gay bar is always an eye-opener," he said, refilling my glass without asking. "Don't worry. You'll either get used to it or decide it's not your scene."
"I'm just here for a drink," I mumbled, focusing intently on the amber liquid in my glass.
The music shifted to something with a heavier beat, and the dance floor began filling up. Bodies pressed against each other, hands wandering freely. I couldn't help but wonder if this was how women felt in straight clubs—constantly watched, evaluated, desired. The weight of those stares made my skin prickle.
"Hey there, handsome. Mind if I join you?"
I turned to find a guy sliding onto the stool next to mine. He was probably in his early thirties, with carefully styled brown hair and a tight V-neck that showed off his gym-sculpted chest. His smile was confident, practiced.
"Uh, sure," I replied awkwardly, not wanting to be rude. "Free country."
"I'm Kyle," he said, extending a manicured hand. "Haven't seen you here before."
"Alex," I replied, shaking his hand briefly. "And no, first time."
Kyle's eyes lit up. "A virgin! Well, to The Rainbow Room, at least." He laughed at his own joke, leaning closer. "Let me guess—recently single? Or just... curious?"
His cologne was overwhelming—something expensive and musky that seemed to invade my personal space.
When he placed his hand on my forearm, I felt a visceral reaction—not excitement or attraction, but genuine revulsion. My stomach clenched, and I had to resist the urge to pull away.
And that's when it hit me—a wave of pure relief. I wasn't attracted to him. Not even slightly. The touch of his hand on my arm felt wrong, uncomfortable. Not like when Daniel had touched me in the desert...
Fuck. I pushed that thought away.
"Actually," I said, sliding my arm out from under his hand, "I'm just here because a friend recommended the whiskey."
Kyle wasn't deterred. "The whiskey is good, but the company can be even better." His hand found its way to my thigh, squeezing lightly. "I could show you around, introduce you to some people."
I shifted away, putting more space between us. "Thanks, but I'm good."
"Playing hard to get? I like that." Kyle's smile widened as he moved his stool closer. "What do you do, Alex? Let me guess—with those shoulders, construction? Or maybe a firefighter?"
"Architect," I replied curtly, hoping my tone would convey my lack of interest.
"Mmm, creative and good with his hands." Kyle's fingers brushed against mine on the bar. "I'd love to see your... blueprints."
Jesus, did these lines actually work on anyone? I downed the rest of my whiskey, the burn in my throat a welcome distraction.
Kyle was still talking, something about his condo downtown and the view from his bedroom, but I'd stopped listening.
I was too busy feeling relieved—genuinely, profoundly relieved—that I felt absolutely nothing for this guy.
But my relief was quickly tempered by confusion. If I wasn't attracted to men, why couldn't I perform with Mia? Why did I keep having those dreams about Daniel?
"So what do you say we get out of here?" Kyle's voice cut through my thoughts. "My place is just a few blocks away."
"Look, I appreciate the offer, but I'm not interested." I tried to sound firm but polite.
Kyle's expression hardened slightly. "Let me guess—you're 'not gay,' right? Just here for research?" He made air quotes with his fingers.
I didn't respond.
"Honey, straight guys don't come to gay bars alone just for the whiskey." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear. "It's okay to be curious. I can be discrete."
I stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over my empty glass. "I said I'm not interested."
Kyle grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. "Come on, don't be like that. One drink at my place, no pressure."
"Let go," I said, my voice dropping dangerously low.
He didn't. Instead, he stood up too, moving into my personal space. "Just a drink. If you're really straight, what are you afraid of?"
I needed to get rid of this guy fast. An idea flashed through my mind—ridiculous, but it might work.
"Look," I said loudly enough for nearby patrons to hear, "I should probably mention that I've been with a lot of guys. Like, a LOT." I widened my eyes dramatically. "And I recently found out I have syphilis."
Kyle dropped my wrist like it was on fire. "What the fuck?"
"Yeah, it's pretty bad," I continued, scratching my arm theatrically. "Doctor says these rashes should clear up in a few weeks, but who knows about the other symptoms." I leaned closer, lowering my voice to a stage whisper. "They say it can make your dick fall off in the later stages."
Kyle was already backing away, disgust written all over his face. "You're fucking insane."
"That's what my last boyfriend said before the dementia set in!" I called after him as he retreated across the bar.
The bartender was staring at me, eyebrows raised. "Syphilis? Really?"
I shrugged, tossing cash on the bar. "It worked, didn't it?"
"Might want to try a different approach next time," he suggested, collecting my money. "Like just saying no."
"Yeah, well, he wasn't taking no for an answer." I stood up, suddenly eager to leave this place and its pulsing music, wandering hands, and judgmental stares.
I pushed through the crowd toward the exit, desperate for fresh air.
As I approached the door, I caught sight of a familiar figure ahead of me, heading out with what appeared to be a semi-conscious man leaning heavily against him.
My heart stopped. Daniel.
He was supporting some drunk guy, the man's arm slung around Daniel's shoulders as Daniel practically carried him toward the exit. The stranger's head lolled against Daniel's neck, his body pressed intimately close.
A white-hot surge of something—anger? jealousy?—shot through me. Hadn't Daniel told me he'd been in love with me for years? And now, what, barely a month after our falling out, he was already moving on? With some random drunk?
Before I could think better of it, I was storming after them, grabbing Daniel's collar from behind.
"What the hell is this?" I demanded, jerking my chin toward the semi-conscious man in his arms. "Who is he?"