3. Jamie

My watch tells me it's a quarter past eight when Mina and Chloe knock on the door to my second-floor converted apartment. "It's open," I call out from my thrifted pleather sofa as I finish tying my shoe.

Mina skips a proper greeting as she lets herself into my living room. "I know they don't lock their doors in the south, but this is DC. You're going to get yourself axe murdered."

I roll my eyes and stand, making my way past Mina to give her girlfriend Chloe a hug. "Chloe, lovely to see you as always," I say, the Southern drawl I usually try to keep more muted slipping through. "I hope you're not hiding an axe under that coat."

"Not tonight," Chloe replies dryly. "But I do have a machete in my purse."

I grin and turn to Mina. "I unlocked the door when I heard you downstairs with Mrs. Carter—who, for the record, would have to let the axe murderer in for them to get to me. Also, the door locking thing is a Southern stereotype."

"Sure, sure," Mina says, waving a dismissive hand. "Well, you definitely look better rested, but is that really what you're wearing?"

I frown and look down at my outfit—black jeans, white button-down with the top two buttons undone, brown oxfords, and an emerald green blazer. It's the same one she and Chloe had picked out for me the last time I went on a date. Admittedly, that was a long time ago, but the date had gone relatively well, so I figured I looked good in it. "You picked this out," I remind her.

"Yes, for a date with a woman," Mina says. "If you're really trying to attract the attention of a man in a queer club, you need to look a little less like a straight, white congressman."

"I hate to break it to you, but I am, in fact, a white congressman," I say with a smirk, but I guess she has a point. I won't admit it out loud, but this wasn't exactly my first choice of what to wear tonight. But after spending most of the day changing about thirty times and, embarrassingly, even looking up any advice Queer Eye might have, I defaulted to this.

"Alright, then what do you suggest I wear?"

Mina turns to Chloe who is already giving me an appraising look. "Love?"

"Spin real quick," she says, doing a little circle motion with her finger. I hesitate, then do a slow spin, and she hums. "Okay, well we definitely have to lose the shirt, but you can keep the jeans. Do you have ankle boots?"

I nod. I don't wear them often, but I have them.

"Wear those and cuff your jeans a little."

"Isn't that a stereotype?" I ask.

"Yeah, but an accurate one. Can I look in your closet?"

I nod again, and Chloe heads past me, her heels echoing on the hardwood as she disappears down the hall to my bedroom. My mild nerves from earlier creep in again, so I busy myself with getting boots from the entryway closet and cuffing my jeans like Chloe instructed. I'm sitting on the couch, focused on my shoes when I feel the cushion dip next to me.

"How are you feeling?" Mina asks. I glance up questioningly. "I can basically feel the anxiety rolling off you," she adds.

I take a deep breath. "I'm a little nervous. But I'll be fine."

"You know you don't have to do anything, right? I know what I said about attracting a man's attention, but you don't have to. You don't have to have any experience with a gender to prove you're attracted to that gender. Plenty of bisexual people only ever have relationships with one gender. That doesn't make them any less bi," she says gently.

I sit back up and idly trace the slight cracks in the pleather cushion. "I know. This isn't really about proving anything as much as it is just allowing myself to exist. Even if tonight ends up only being us hanging out in a queer bar, I feel like the knowledge that I'm not there as the token straight friend will help me feel a little less…"

"Confused?" she supplies.

"Yeah, I think that's the closest word," I say. "Isolated, maybe."

"Yeah, I can understand that. Just don't force anything, alright?"

"I won't," I promise.

She reaches out and squeezes my knee as Chloe re-emerges from the bedroom with a black button-down. She tosses it in my general direction, and I recognize it as the silk one from my vampire Halloween costume a few months ago. I can't help giving her a skeptical look.

"Oh, yes," Mina exclaims. "That's perfect. Good call, babe." She reaches her hand over the back of the couch toward Chloe, who takes it and allows Mina to pull her down to kiss her cheek.

"It's not a little much?" I ask. "I mean, it was part of a costume."

"Oh, is that why it was hanging with a cape?" Chloe deadpans.

"No, it's perfect," Mina insists. "It's a Saturday night and we're going to a swanky gay bar. That shirt is practically tame. I'm wearing leather pants for god's sake." She stands and holds her coat open to gesture to her outfit.

I hadn't really paid that close attention to her outfit when she came in since her coat covered most of it, but she is in fact wearing leather pants that look so tight they can't possibly be comfortable. And now that I'm looking, her top looks like something I could only describe as a corset with a sheer overlay. Okay, yeah, a silk shirt is pretty tame in comparison. But then again, Mina has always been adventurous with her wardrobe. I glance over the couch back at Chloe, who's taken off her coat, presumably to rifle through my closet, to see she's equally dressed up in a tight velvet dress with sleeves. So I wouldn't be out of place, but it's still not something I would usually wear.

Then again, tonight is all about experimentation, isn't it?

Taking a deep breath, I stand and make my way around the couch to go change in my bedroom.

"Oh, and lose the undershirt," Mina calls after me.

"Why?" I call back.

"Just trust me!"

The contrast in temperature of the bar compared to the street is almost stifling. Once we make it past the bouncer checking IDs and reminding us of the no photography policy, I immediately shed my wool peacoat and the plain black baseball hat I wore to partially obscure my face while we waited in line to get inside. I remember seeing online that the bar has a coat check, and clearly Mina is having the same thought because she grabs my elbow and gestures to a doorway marked "coat check." I nod, then start leading the way, my usual job in crowds since I'm six feet tall and therefore the easiest to spot in case anyone gets separated.

As we make our way through the crowd, my eyes scan the room. The Lavender Gimlet isn't exactly what I expected it to be. I know it's supposed to be speakeasy-inspired, but I hadn't expected the place to take that theme quite as seriously. The space is dark and decorated in dark woods, brocade wallpaper, and glitzy wall sconces. The staff are all dressed in 1920s fashion, including the coat check person dressed in a flapper dress and feather headband. And with the crowd of people dancing in the center of the space, the whole place looks like it came straight out of a scene in The Great Gatsby. The only thing taking me out of the feeling like I've traveled back in time is the music—which is currently a remix of a Lady Gaga song—and the fact that all the staff have pins of various pride flags and pronouns on their name badges. It makes for a weird dichotomy of old and new.

With our coat check claim tickets tucked away in my pocket, we head to the bar, me in the lead again. We find a clear spot, and while the bartenders are busy serving other people, I turn and duck a bit so Mina and Chloe can hear me over the music. "What do y'all want? First round on me."

"Usual," Mina shouts at the same time Chloe says, "Negroni."

I nod, and turn back to the bar just as a frankly gorgeous man in a tight white button-down, sleeves rolled up, and suspenders slides over and leans on the bar top. I falter for a moment, my eyes snagging on his forearms, then the small patch of chest hair visible due to the sheer number of buttons the man has undone, before getting a hold on myself and looking him in the eye.

"What can I get you?" the man—Eric according to the tag pinned to his suspender—asks as he flashes a devastating grin.

I put on my best smile—I might as well lean into this from the start, right?—and order a whiskey sour for myself, then Mina's cabernet sauvignon and Chloe's Negroni.

"Oh, you're not from here, are you, handsome?" he asks.

"Jamie," I offer up. "And no, I'm from North Carolina."

Eric grins again, and okay, yeah, maybe my bisexuality is a little more than theoretical. "Well, Jamie from North Carolina, I'll get those drinks for you."

When he returns a few minutes later, I hand the girls their drinks, then fish out my wallet and hand over my card.

"Tab open or closed, Jamie?"

"Leave it open, Eric," I say, and he hums.

"Mmm, I could get used to hearing my name in that accent."

I hear a faint snicker behind me and make a mental note to jab Mina in the ribs later.

"Come find me when you need a refill," Eric says, shooting me a quick wink—which definitely makes me feel some kind of way—before moving onto the next customer.

I pick up my drink and spin to find Mina and Chloe sipping their drinks and giving me nearly identical knowing looks. "Shut up."

Mina throws her head back with a laugh and loops an arm through mine. "Baby bi's first phone number from a guy. Proud of you."

"What?" I furrow my brow. "He didn't—"

"Look at the napkin." Chloe gestures to the napkin stuck to the bottom of my glass.

I look, and sure enough, there's a number scrawled on it in black sharpie. I look over my shoulder to find Eric again, who locks eyes with me and winks again.

Mina snickers again. "Okay, let's go find a table before your adorable blush goes full tomato."

"I'm not blushing," I protest. It's just warm in this bar. I let Mina pull me away from the bar anyway.

"You were absolutely blushing," Chloe says once we sink into a small corner booth with a perfect view of the dance floor. "It was cute."

"So, now that you've flirted with a hot bartender, how are you feeling?" Mina asks.

"Definitely not as theoretical," I say, then take a casual sip of my drink.

After that, the conversation thankfully moves away from my love life. We chat as we nurse our drinks, eventually getting a second round, Mina going so Chloe and I can save our table. And now I'm feeling pleasantly tipsy. Also, surprisingly relaxed despite the nerves I felt leaving my apartment. I'm actually feeling the most relaxed I've felt in months. Mina was right. I needed a break.

"Shall we get another round or dance?" Mina asks as she drains the last of her glass of wine.

"I could dance," I say now that I have some liquid courage in me. I look to the dance floor, partly to see where there's room, and partly to see if there's anyone I might be willing to dance with. And that's when it happens.

My eyes stop on a tall blond, maybe in his thirties. It's a little hard to make out too many details with how the floor is lit, but from what I can see… well, I thought Eric the bartender was hot, but this man is absolutely gorgeous. Broad shoulders, bone structure that rivals a Kennedy's, hair that falls perfectly over his forehead and looks impossibly soft. He's dancing with a girl with reddish hair who's about half a foot shorter than him, but it doesn't look like they're together. The way his hands are resting on her waist high enough to be friendly, it's a lot like how I dance with Mina when we go out and Chloe isn't there for her to dance with.

I realize I'm staring, but I can't help it. This man really is beautiful.

The man stops moving, and his gaze focuses on me. Our eyes lock across the floor like we're in some sort of movie.

And I can't breathe. Fuck.

"What?" Mina asks because apparently I must have sworn out loud. Then, she follows my gaze and lets out a slightly teasing, "Oh."

I barely hear it, though. I barely hear anything, actually. It's like my brain has filled with white noise. Or maybe that's just my heart racing, which I can almost feel in my throat. My palms are starting to sweat, and I vaguely feel like I'm going to vomit.

Yeah, the bisexuality is so very much not theoretical anymore. I am 100 percent bi. So much so that I kind of wonder how it took me this long to figure it out because right now, nothing has been more clear. Unless this reaction is unique to whoever this god of a man is. It might be because I don't think I've ever felt this out of kilter over an attraction to someone.

Then the man smiles slightly, and yup, I'm a goner. But somehow, I manage to respond. I lift my drink to the man in a gesture I hope looks casual and chill, then take a sip through the cocktail straw. I hear Mina splutter a laugh next to me.

"I don't know who this new version of my best friend is, but I have never been more proud of you," Mina says, beaming.

"More than when he got elected to congress?" Chloe asks.

"I said what I said."

But despite Mina being proud of my move, I wonder if the move was a little too obvious or over the top, especially since the man stares at me for a moment. But then he twirls the redhead into the arms of another man with brown hair and glasses, who catches her slightly awkwardly.

"Oh, damn, I think he's coming over here," Chloe says.