Chapter 5

CHAPTER

FIVE

NATIE

I sigh as I read in bed. I should be content with my night off to myself. I can finally catch up on my books, but instead, I'm bored. So, I close my paperback and check out the Single Gamer's Society group chat.

Dylan : I finally built that wooden crate to organize my Dice Throne game collection.

Hamadi : You bought an organizer for that?

Dylan : And Vil helped me assemble it!

Dylan : What a perfect Valentine's Day treat! (heart eyes emoji)

Hamadi : How lame of me. Andres and I are just baking empanadas.

Dylan : That sounds fun!

Firass : Dylan, do you even have time to play Dice Throne?

Dylan : Maybe not. But think of all the dice I can hold now!

Firass : A superb feeling indeed.

I grin and put my phone down. I forgot it was Valentine's Day, and I'm the loser in my pajamas before nine p.m. My smile fades; leave it to the Single Gamer's Society to perpetually remind me that I'm still single.

I swing my feet over the bed and groan. Glancing at my book, another romance novel, I grunt. I don't want to be left in the dust in the romance department. It's also been way too long since I've gotten action from anyone other than my fingers. But it's not like I can get a date now.

I make my way to the kitchen and open the fridge. After I take out the milk and pour myself a glass, the door clicks open. My best friend and roommate stumbles in, grinning. He's dressed in a dark suit, and his tie is half undone. He pushes up his glasses and giggles, which can only mean one person is behind him. I sip my milk and try to look away.

"You have no idea what I'm going to do to you…" Johnny mutters. I make the mistake of glancing at them. My brother saunters in behind Firass and wraps his arms around his waist. When Johnny kisses my best friend's neck, he smiles, and I gag. That milk is about to make an encore appearance.

The upside to living on my parents' property is being close to my best friend and my brother. The downside is being this close to my best friend and my brother.

Every time I turn back to them, my patience wears thinner. Johnny is wearing a crimson suit and Firass is all but yanking it off. My brother chuckles and shuts his eyes while my best friend kisses his neck. I tap my fingers on the kitchen counter, waiting for them to acknowledge me, but NOPE.

Once Firass mutters something about lube, I lose it. I clear my throat harder than necessary, and that finally sobers them up.

"Oh, uh, Natie!" Firass has the decency to push up his glasses and act ashamed. My brother has no such qualms as he continues to snake his arms around Firass. "We um…didn't see you there."

"Clearly," I deadpan. "Didn't you guys go out for your Valentine's Dinner or whatever?"

"We decided to end it early," Firass replies. He puts his hands over Johnny's. I think he's going to bat him away, but no, he holds him tight.

"Yes, we…" Johnny nibbles on Firass's, ear, and I want to hurl. "We weren't hungry for food."

They giggle like the double-entendre was subtle, and I roll my eyes. Enough is enough .

"I'm leaving," I mutter. No one needs to hear their brother through the walls having sex. As the lovebirds stroll towards Johnny's room, I head in the other direction to mine. All my friends are hooking up, and dammit , I refuse to be left out.

Forty-five minutes later, I'm dressed in a pressed, dark button-down and parking on a street in Stamports. Seashell is the best gay bar in a thirty-minute radius, and Firass and I used to frequent it before we founded the Single Gamer's Society. There's always some dude ready for action, and I'll bet Valentine's Day is making my fellow single men horny.

When I walk in, the room is dark and house music is thumping through the walls. The nautical décor is draped in rainbow flags, red heart streamers, and pink ribbons. Patrons of all gender-presentations sit by the bar and at wooden tables, drinking and chatting. It's cozy and queer and exactly as I remember it.

Since I'm riding solo, I head for the bar and order a cocktail. Time for me to preen my feathers like a peacock and let the boys come to me. After the bartender hands me a drink, I gaze around. I'm enjoying the music, and I nod along as I scope out the scene. It's hard to see anyone's face who's not three feet in front of me.

I sip again and five minutes pass. Unfortunately, it seems all the men have already partnered up. All I see are pairs and what appears to be one throuple in the corner. Not a single man in sight. As if I couldn't get any lonelier…

I get that I'm not bulky like Johnny or Hamadi. I realize I'm not as small and adorable as Dylan or Firass. But I had this weird idea that upon entering Seashell, men would flock to me. Clearly, I was mistaken.

I down my drink and try to muster up courage. I'm determined to talk to the next man I see. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a lone figure at the end of the bar. The man has hunched shoulders, a bald head, and a nice wide frame. Okay, he could be my type . I nab another beer from the bartender and meander over to the stranger, determined to get a good look at his face.

The music lulls when I sit next to him, and no one is around—it's my moment. Squaring my shoulders, I smile and say, "Hey, how's it going?"

The man swivels around, and my eyebrows jump—oh, he's handsome alright. Because it's Santos Hand.

"Santos?!"

"N…N-Natie?"

I look to my left and right, but no, I'm not on some prank show. My high school bully is at the bar with me. And I was two seconds away from buying him a drink and sucking him off in the bathroom.

"What…what…?" Now I'm the one stuttering. "What are you doing here?"

He looks down at the beer in his hand, then back at me. "I'm…drinking."

"But this is Seashell!"

"Yeah."

"A gay bar!"

His eyes dart everywhere, and the look tells me everything.

Oh . Grown-up Santos is also gay, or bi like me. That's a lot of information to process.

"I came here to find a guy to converse with on Valentine's Day," he says, raising his voice above the music.

I shake my head to bring myself back to the present. "Me too." We work for the same company, his sister visited my resort, and now this? The universe has a warped sense of humor. "I was gonna buy a handsome guy a drink."

He looks around, and no one else is in sight. "S…sorry. I'll leave you alone."

"No!" I yelp without thinking. I put my hand on his, and, before I can think wisely, the next few words slip out of my mouth. "Wanna have a drink with me?"

Fifteen minutes later, Santos and I are sitting near the door at a booth with sodas and beers in hand. He told me he's just moved back to Connecticut, and I'm telling him about the shenanigans that have happened since my brother moved back home.

"And all that fake dating turned real!" I say. We both burst out in laughter. Maybe it's the beer talking, but Santos looks so pretty when he smiles. I tamp down that thought; just because my high school bully is gay now doesn't mean anything will happen between us.

"That's a whimsical tale. And you all live together," he says.

"Yup." I sip and wipe my mouth with my hand. "What about you and Santana? You live with each other?"

"No. She and Wayne do. I don't desire to cohabitate with my sister and her fiancé."

"See? You made the right choice!" We burst into laughter again. "Living with Firass and Johnny has been brutal."

"I can only imagine. Es-s-specially on Valentine's Day."

"Right?!" I reply.

"And it's not as if you don't love them."

"Of course! They're both so important to me!"

"But sometimes you simply require solitude. D-d-don't need to hear their sex noises through the walls."

"Exactly!" We laugh and I tap his firm, firm shoulder. "You're like the first person who understands me."

"I'm…honored," he replies.

A tiny spark bounces through my stomach, and not because Santos is objectively my type in a man—broad build, full arms, and a beard. Sexiness aside, it feels good to talk to someone who wants to hear my side of the story.

I nod along to the ambient music and drink some soda to sober myself up. "Hey, if it weren't for them screwing around, I wouldn't have come here tonight."

"Very true."

"But what brought you out here? You live alone."

He shrugs and looks away. "The same reason any s-s-single guy seeks out a gay bar on Valentine's Day."

"To get some play," I reply.

"Precisely." Santos's warm voice soothes my soul for some reason. I can't believe I'm hanging out with Santos "The Handyman" Hand himself. Teenage me would hate me right now, but how can I care? This is the best conversation I've had in weeks.

We spend several minutes chatting about nothing too deep. He describes his printing company and his best friend Keisha, and I talk about Firass's journey to GBS Games. With our drinks winding down, and me wanting to be sober, I ask if he wants to walk me to my car. When Santos agrees, a tiny part of my heart flutters in satisfaction.

We walk for five minutes under the stars, laughing all the way. This isn't a date, but it still feels like an incredible time. Santos is so different from the villain I pictured him as for years.

I lean on my car and say, "This is me."

Santos nods and puts his hands in his pockets. He's wearing a dark red jacket and sinfully tight jeans. With his football jock muscles, he'll make any gay guy very happy at Seashell.

"I…had fun tonight."

"Me t-t-t-too."

That was a particularly long stutter. I push away that mean thought and instead say, "A year ago, if someone had told me I'd be hanging out with Santos Hand, I would've been pissed."

I snicker, but he asks, "Why?"

I shrug and look down. "Because…it wasn't like we were friends in high school."

"Not incorrect."

"And you were kind of awful to me." I stare at the gravel, but when Santos doesn't reply, I look up.

His expression is a mixture of confusion and disdain. "W-w-what do you mean?"

I scoff, and my cheeks heat up. "Come on. You remember, don't you? You and your jock buddies always mocked me."

"No, I didn't!" His assertive tone sobers me up.

Still, I continue, "Um, yeah, you did. You made fun of me for liking books and not having a date to prom. And then at prom you tried to strangle me."

"P-p-prom?!"

Feeling his anger rising, I try for a joking tone. "To be fair, I spilled punch on your shirt. That would set off any bully."

"B-b-bully?!"

I shrug again. "It's cool. We were kids, so I forgive you. It's not like that shit matters anyway, because―"

"Natie, YOU bullied ME!"

What .

I blink at him, and he takes in deep breaths. Neither of us says anything for several long seconds. His face is red, and my mind has all but short-circuited. In a night of unexpected twists, this one takes the cake.

"What do you…what are you talking about, Santos?"

"I t-t-t-tried being friends with you, but you insulted me every time! You made me feel like garbage, Natie. Just ask Firass! Ask anyone!" He looks down and clenches his fists. "So don't say you forgive me for the past s-s-s-shit. I treated you with respect, but, you, Natie Shiba, made high school h-h-h-hell for me!"

Before I can say a word, he spins on his heel and strides away. I'm left standing there alone with nothing but the stars, and Santos's words cutting deep into my very soul.