Chapter 2

It's only a few hours into my shift, and I already feel like gouging my eyes out, which would be a crying shame—they're objectively my best feature.

The smell of stale beer, sweaty construction workers, and musty carpet leaves little to be desired, but the punters seem to be having a whale of a time.

We've been relatively busy since 5 p.m., which isn't unusual for a Thursday night, but I'd much rather be tucked up in bed with a glass of red and some fantasy smut.

I didn't plan on working in scummy bars at 26, but it's all I could find when I moved here on a whim.

Before my life did a one-eighty, I worked at a marketing agency. The pay was decent enough, but it was hella stressful. Oh, and one of my ex's mothers owned the company, so there's that. I'd rather stick pins in my eyes than ask for a reference. Damn, here I go again, threatening my gorgeous eyeballs.

"Oi pretty boy, you gonna serve me or what?"

I flinch at the derogatory comment, but straighten my shoulders and fill the ice bucket like I haven't heard him.

"You deaf, kid!?" he bellows.

Brilliant, another day, another bigoted arsehole. This should be fun.

I slam the ice bucket onto the bar, flick my curly fringe out of my face and look up at him, flashing a phoney smile.

The nasty bastard grimaces at me like I'm nothing more than shit on the sole of his shoe.

He scoffs. "Errr, why are you wearing make-up?"

"Why are you wasting oxygen?" I say under my breath, returning to the task at hand.

Before I can register what's happening, the half-cut, clammy local grabs me by the collar and tries to drag me over the bar. He isn't as strong as he looks, so I lean back and try to pry his sweaty fingers off. I may only be 5'8, but I'm not afraid to bite. He picked the wrong queer to mess with.

The devil on my shoulder can't help but wind the ignorant prick up.

"If you wanted a snog, you could've just asked," I say, blowing him a kiss to make him squirm.

His head looks like it's going to explode. Who would've thought a little makeup and slow service would cause such a fuss?

Before the arsehole has time to react, a lanky-looking guy who works behind the bar barrels over.

"Tony, put him the fuck down!"

Tony's eyes widen, and he releases me in a flash and stumbles backwards.

We've been so busy I've not even had a chance to introduce myself to everyone who works here.

"We're all good here, Pete. I don't want any trouble," Tony says, voice quivering.

His face is bright red and his bottom lip trembles. Pete stares him down while I straighten my shirt and gather myself.

What the hell was that?

Tony makes a hasty exit on clumsy limbs like a newborn foal. I don't even realise I'm gawking at the extremely tall, white guy when he puts his hand out. I assume he wants me to shake it.

"I'm Pete. Nice to meet you."

Hmm, is it? I nearly got my arse handed to me on my first shift at this hole-in-the-wall. But I try to shake it off and remember basic human manners. I reach for his hand, giving him a firm shake to fake confidence.

"The pleasure's all mine. I'm Kai, thanks for that."

Pete smirks while his eyes slowly drag up and down my body. He stuck up for me, so I highly doubt he wants to kick my arse too, but I bristle as he harshly evaluates me.

I pull my hand away and grab a dishcloth to wipe down the already spotless side. That's surprising, considering the rest of the place doesn't exactly scream sterile. Yet I keep scrubbing in the hope his pesky stare will land elsewhere.

"You're not from around here."

Oh great, creepy Pete wants to chat. I hope he doesn't expect some kind of sexual favour for being my knight in shining armour. Men like him don't usually stand up for people like me, so my best guess is he's after something.

"Nope, I only moved here last month," I say, attempting to sound blasé but feeling my cheeks heat up at the unwanted attention.

"Nice. You moved here with your family or a partner, maybe?"

Pete's face relaxes, and a smidge of a sincere smile comes through. It puts me at ease after what just happened.

I stop abusing the side with the dishcloth and turn to face him fully. Luckily, since my little altercation, people have moved to the opposite end of the bar to get served so there's no one waiting.

"No, just me. But I have friends here."

Pfft, friends plural. I have one friend here, but he doesn't need to know that.

"Cool, where are you staying?" he asks, stepping closer.

My spine stiffens. Is he hitting on me, or is he just nosy with no concept of personal space?

"Not far from here," I answer noncommittally.

"Ah, ok, what street exactly?"

"You ask a lot of questions." I nervously laugh and toy with my fringe to keep my hands busy.

"I do, you're interesting."

My stomach swirls, but not in a good way. Pete isn't my type at all, and he's intimidating as hell. But before my brain can catch up, I blurt out, "Are you flirting with me?"

He scoffs out a laugh. "Nah, mate, just trying to make conversation. I temp here occasionally, that's all."

Oh well, that's awkward. But me being me, I never allow people to see me flustered.

"That's good. You're not my type anyway." I wink at him, and a wide grin spreads across his face.

* * *

Pete continues pestering me for the rest of my shift. I swear curious George is less inquisitive than this baboon, but I begrudgingly entertain it because he did have my back after all.

It's past 1 a.m. and my feet ache like a bitch, so I hastily slip into my cosy jacket and head for the door.

"Hey Kai, do you want a lift? I'm heading out," Pete shouts across the rowdy bar.

I try to swivel on my chunky boots, but the sticky floor protests. I only live a ten-minute walk away. It'd be lazy to get a lift.

"Nah, it's cool. I only live around the corner," I shout back over the chatter of drunk locals.

"You sure? I don't mind. We can go now."

I'm not fully convinced Pete isn't trying to get in my pants. He's pretty persistent.

"No, honestly, it's fine. Have a good night."

Dashing for the door, I breathe out a sigh of relief as the cool air prickles my face.

I'm so done with people today and need my bed. I managed to put on a front at work, but if I'm being frank with myself, what happened tonight at the bar was fucked up. It's an easy trigger for me when people mention my appearance, thanks to my dad's vile remarks growing up. It took me years to rebuild my confidence and drag myself out of a dark place, and I don't plan on returning there.

I'm not going to change who I am and stop wearing fabulous clothes and makeup to appease some low lives. I love expressing myself through clothes and teetering on the line between feminine and masculine. I have no desire to conform to society's standard of what a man should be. I look good, and my style suits me. Fuck clammy, Tony.

I've just started my journey when my phone buzzes in my pocket, so I come to a stop. I've not even opened the message yet, but I feel giddy.

Edenloves69 1:08:Hey, how was your shift? Did you survive? ;)

Queer4kai 1:09:Oh, you know, the usual, sweaty middle-aged man tried to beat me up, probably a homophobe. I'm walking home now.

Edenloves69 1:09:What!? Are you hurt? Which pub? I'll kill him.

I can't help but chuckle at his dramatic yet sweet text. I've never had someone who wants to protect me. Unless we're counting Nola, but she's more like a feisty chihuahua.

Queer4kai 1:10:Alright, calm down, Hulk. As much as the thought of you defending my honour is a huge turn-on, a guy at the bar sorted it. It wasn't a big deal.

A gust of wind startles me, and I realise I've been standing in pitch black in the middle of the street, waiting for a reply. It's not the brightest idea, so I tighten my jacket around my torso and get moving. I pick up the pace, noticing a car driving suspiciously slow behind me. I don't get my phone out for the rest of the walk because I have this weird sinking feeling that someone's watching me. Maybe I'm being paranoid, but after my run-in tonight, I wouldn't put it past that degenerate to follow me and pick another fight.

I'm not in the nicest neighbourhood, but cash was tight. Rent prices in London are no joke. I had to use a sizeable chunk of my savings to afford the deposit and three months' rent in advance for a crappy studio.

Once inside, I plonk onto the end of the bed and slip off my boots and jacket, sighing happily when the balls of my feet land on my fluffy rug. I flop backwards and pull my phone out, eager to see what Eden's replied.

Edenloves69 1:10:It sounds like a big deal to me. But if that's what gets you going, I'll happily defend your honour. ;)

Edenloves69 1:13:Hang on a minute, what guy?

Edenloves69 1:20:Did you get home ok?

I should probably have the ick, considering he triple-texted and asked, ‘What guy?' He sounds a bit jealous. But the whole, ‘I'll kill him,' followed by ‘Did you get home ok?' text has kind of turned me on. He's the perfect amount of murderous and sweet. I think I'd quite like someone to murder for me. Or maybe I've read a few too many dark romances.

Queer4kai 1:22:Call me. I'm home now, and I need you to read me a bedtime story. :P