Wor and Play

1 WEEK LATER

Sean is in the office, and apparently he gets his own space upstairs. I don't mind at all. Grayson bubbles through the whole day, smiling off into the distance and using his best "happy to serve you" voice over the phone.

I, on the other hand, have been stuck in my office with the door closed, locking Shannon out.

I got a text from Gabe this morning:

GABE: Zeke, something happened and I won't spare words. Somehow it got out that I had to fire "unnamed employee" for sexual harassment, got brought up in a web interview. I will lie if I have to, YOU will NOT be involved in this. This should not be a story for the news, but I know this will get back to CO. I am so angry and upset, and I want you to feel comfortable doing whatever you want to do, even if it means going home.

I stuck my phone in a drawer and stayed buried in my computer work, doing twice as much work as I usually do, and not breaking for lunch. Now, not only do people know that Clay Edgar was harassing me, but it was in a sexual nature.

My whole body feels hot no matter how I angle the fan on my desk, and by the time it's 4:30, I feel like my office space is a sauna. I can't believe I still have another hour. I've been glued to my chair for the entirety of the day.

At 4:45, I see a message pop up on my computer screen. Gabriel emailed me.

"I finally got a hold of the interview. It was a brief question but I am trying to see why/how the info got out there. Possibly Edgar himself. Please watch this to see if I handled this the way you want, or if you want me to do more. Shouldn't come up again. I'm sorry that everything I'm doing is being scrutinized right now, and that this even came up.

-Gabe"

I open the email from Gabe on my personal computer and download the video there, then delete the email. I make a mental note to watch the video later instead of right now, because I don't know if it'll trigger a breakdown or panic attack. I'm already feeling myself tick more than usual.

While I stare at the minimized video, Grayson gently knocks on the door. I can tell it's him by the knock, but I don't get up right away. When he taps again, I stand up and straighten myself out, my limbs tensing in the process.

I open the door slowly, and he gives me a meek smile. "Hey."

"Yeah, I've been void all day," I say. Grayson just raises his eyebrows.

"I um... I didn't say anything about that, but okay. And... I understand. Can I come in?" I nod and ask him to close the door after himself. "I'm—well..." Grayson rubs at his chin and stares above my head. "How are you?"

"What is it?" I ask plainly. Grayson sighs and sits down in the chair in the corner.

"Well, first of all, fuck Clay Edgar, and fuck Gabriel Ortega." Grayson shakes his head.

I shrug. "Gabriel fired him."

"Not without blurting your business everywhere. I mean, he didn't say your name but... I think it's bullshit. And I know what its like to... well, basically I understand being harassed like that. I know it's not about me but you feel fucking trapped... and you tried to tell me and I didn't listen well enough."

"Grayson, I didn't tell you, though."

"I need everyone to know they don't' have to put up with that shit."

I clasp my hands and sigh. "So everyone knows?"

"No, no. Undoubtedly, Shannon knows, because that info is reported to her. But I think it's hushed."

"It's not Gabriel's fault," I say quietly, staring at the ground. "Everything he does right now is being tracked because of the Tracy thing." Grayson shrugs. I don't mean to just defend Gabe like he's special to me (even though he is), but some part of me would want Grayson to approve of Gabriel if he knew about us. "I'm exhausted. Every day is either really good or really bad. I don't understand why I can't seem to find a happy medium."

Grayson doesn't know what to say. "Well, we can go running today—only if you want—and then later tonight, Sean and I are going out, and I'd love if you came with us."

I smile a little. "Third wheel?"

"Yes, but an IMPORTANT third wheel. We've gone to dinner a lot, and we're heading to a bar tonight, switching it up a bit," Grayson says. I look at him, questionably. "A gay bar."

"Ah," I say.

"At least consider it. Unless it's better for you to stay in, but I don't want you to be alone if you're going to beat yourself up."

"We'll see," I say with a chuckle.

"Do whatever you want or need to do. We're not even 100% about going out."

I just pull Grayson into a hug.

--------

As soon as I stepped into my house, I put my laptop under my bed and vowed to not watch Gabriel's web interview until he was back here in Colorado. Even that simple gesture made me feel a sense of revival from the day. When I walked past my mirror, something in my head told me I deserve to have a good time, away from the drama of today.

I'm going out to my first gay bar tonight.

Of course, I'll be lingering behind Sean and Grayson the whole night. I wouldn't want to bother them. On top of that, I won't be talking to anyone. Gabriel and I are definitely something, and I'm not the college freshman I was a long time ago, shamelessly fucking whoever I felt like. If anything I have transferred from one shell to another: my "newly gay and independent but I still can't reach out" shell to an "I'm a professional who can't mess up at all" shell.

At least this is a step in a different direction.

I've taken an half-hour shower when my phone rings with the ringtone I've been meaning to change since I was 20.

"Hey, Grayson."

"I'm the worst person ever. I know I said we were going out, but Sean isn't feeling too great."

I only briefly roll my eyes, because every time I close my eyes to soak in the water, I think of Gabriel anyway. "You said you weren't 100%, it's cool."

"Zeke... goddamnit we only made plans to take you out with us. I feel so fucking bad." I don't say anything for a second, just listening to the shower run. "Zeke?"

"That's really awesome of you guys," I say with a chuckle. "You made plans just for your third wheel."

"No, a friend. I wanted to see you have some fun and enjoy yourself outside of work and all that. We're definitely going out sometime—"

"Grayson, it's definitely okay. You're fine. I was talking myself out of it anyway."

"As long as you promise to go out with us sometime. We'll go to The Tens soon."

"Promise," I say softly.

--

I wonder if Grayson and Sean are just fucking instead of going out. They're probably riding a double bike or something dumb and calling it foreplay. Grayson has told me that they've stretched together before sex. I don't think that he meant stretching each other out. I think he really meant yoga. And I can't say I've really been able to pinpoint many times Grayson has lied to me. He could easily have ditched. Probably doing the splits on Sean's face. Or vice versa. Wow they're SO versatile. Grayson has said that, too.

I think I was in the middle of an argument with Gabriel one time as Grayson described a night with Sean. It really sounds like they play fight and tussle and all sorts of cutesy things. Touchy in a different way than Gabriel and I have been. I realize I'm literally pouting in envy. I shouldn't be jealous that Sean "buys special clothes." Whatever the fuck that means.

I don't just sound jealous; I sound pathetic.

I search up some jock straps. I smirk at the first few images I see. I know Gabriel would probably enjoy seeing me in something like this. I'm almost giddy at the thought of some underwear being a turn on for him. He liked me in orange that one time...

Why should Grayson and his boyfriend have all the fun?

----------

I'm 2/3 of the way to The Tens when I almost ask the driver to pull over on the side of the road and debate turning back. I didn't tell Grayson I was going anyway. I didn't really tell myself I was going either.

After my shower, I looked at myself in the mirror, long and hard. Examined every freckle, every lock of red hair, the shape of my lips (a little dry from not drinking enough water), and I decided to be spontaneous.

I threw on some clothes, whistling to distract myself from changing my mind, and then punched The Tens bar into my GPS. A twenty-five minute drive.

Now I sit here, doing exactly what I said I wasn't going to do.

"C'mon c'mon c'mon," I say quietly to the back of the passengers seat. In my mirror, I see my eyes, wide and afraid. "It's a fuckin' gay bar, Zeke. You're gay. They're gay. Everyone's going to be gay. You're gonna see some jockstraps."

And yet, my mind plays tricks on me.

I look up 'The Tens' on Google: open 4 days a week, strippers only on Friday and Saturday, locally run. 4.4/5 stars. Small place.

I can do this. I don't need anyone to guide me. I can look at men and buy alcohol and have as good a time as anyone else. I can meet some new people without being afraid.

There's no line at the door when I arrive, but I can hear the music from outside, and there's a lot of cars lined up on both sides of the street, and many more in the parking lot.

"Hello!" a woman greets. Her shirt says 'Pussy isn't Vegan but I Don't Care', and I smile at that. "Can I see some ID?"

"Y-yeah," I say softly, and realize she may not have heard me over the music, so I nod my head. I pull out my wallet and show her. She nods.

"First time here?"

"Um, yeah."

"Seems like it. Here, you get a wristband. Gets you 50% off drinks since you're a first-timer," she says, handing me a blue paper band. "Have a great time. Come back to this table if you need a cab or an Uber and we'll help you out."

"Thanks," I say, smiling again. I must look like a mess. She said 'seems like it'. Good lord, I already messed up. When I walk in, I see a mix of just about all the people you can think of: plain people in t-shirts and button-ups like me, flamboyant people with wild hair and outfits, cross-dressers, butch girls, young people, old people, everyone.

The strippers are in the corner on a stage—I can't see them too well from where I am— but the place is somehow bigger than I imagined. Although I know I'm not out of place, I feel like everyone knows each other. I take a seat at the bar, where many people are sitting. I'm not the only one who's alone.

The bartender is shirtless, and he waltzes over to me with a small notebook. His body is slim, not very toned, but goodness, his face is cute. Curly brown hair and big brown eyes with a great jawline. His nose is pierced. He seems barely younger than me, or about my age. "Newbie," he says, indicating my wristband. I look at it and nod. "What can I start you with?"

"Just a beer is fine," I say.

"Just a beer is fine," he repeats with a wink, and he waltzes away. I get caught staring at him when he comes back, and I blush instantly, but he doesn't seem to care. He's probably worked with people who've done more vulgar things than ogle at him. "How are you tonight?" he asks. I don't catch his question at first, but when I put it together, he chuckles at me.

"I'm alright," I reply.

"Just alright?" he asks, cocking his head to the side and blinking his big eyes.

"I've um... I've never been to a bar like this," I say, probably louder than I need to, but I don't know if he can hear over the music.

The bartender laughs. "Like this? A gay bar?" he asks. I nod and adjust my glasses. "Oh, like forreal? Well I'm Sam, and I'd love to make sure your first gay bar experience is fucking awesome. The Tens is really chill, usually no drama. There's two older guys here who might be a little forward with you, but they're harmless. Um..." Sam looks around as if he's trying to remember something, "the strippers here are great but one of em's stuck up. And depending on the day, there might be people trying to start an orgy in the bathroom. If you see that, you go tell the front and they'll break that up."

"Good to know," I laugh, tapping on my glass of beer. I reach for my wallet, but Sam stops me.

"On me. Loosen up a little. 99% of people here are super friendly."

I've been sitting by myself for about twenty-five minutes, having had two beers (that Sam urged I need not pay for; by the time I wanted a hard drink, I insisted I pay), before someone comes to sit beside me. I get nervous, and down my second gin faster than I should. It leaves a short burn in my throat, and I cough once. I haven't even looked at the person sitting beside me.

I check my phone for the first time, and find a message.

GABE: Just checking on you. How was your day?

"You a teacher?" I hear from beside me. I turn to my right, instantly stuffing my phone in my pocket. At my quick head-turn, my body lets me know I'm a little buzzed.

"What?"

"You look like a teacher," the guy says, indicating what I'm wearing.

"Business," I clarify, adjusting my glasses. "I work in Fort Collins."

"No shit! So do I," the guy says. "I'm David."

"That's my brother's name," I comment. "I'm Zeke. What do you do?"

"See, I AM a teacher. High school. Teaching AP Anatomy and Physiology. Can I take a guess where you work?" David asks. I nod. "Um... relations, or technology? Or something like... having a vegan blog?"

"Tech," I giggle.

"Apple?"

"No! I work for OrtegaTech," I reply. David beams.

"Oh, that's great company. Just offered one of my favorite students a $25,000 scholarship. She deserved it." I can't help but smile. I knew the scholarships were a great idea. I wasn't aware that it'd be taking off so quickly. "And my best friend works there. You might know him. Gray Thomas? He's kinda tall, dark hair—"

"Grayson's MY best friend! Where have you been, under a rock? This is uncanny," I laugh, throwing my head back. "I tried to drag Grayson here with me tonight, but he's on a date."

Wow. Lie.

"Oh my—you're THAT Zeke? This is crazy. We have to send him a picture of us together," David says. I simply look at him, confused. "We should take a picture to show him," David says. I realize that I am probably too buzzed for the short amount of time I've been here, but I pose for a picture with David, drink in hand. "He's going to flip out. He didn't even tell me you were gay. What a douche."

"He's never even mentioned you," I laugh. Oh damn it. My mouth is working faster than my brain. David doesn't seem offended, but I certainly would be. "This has been an adventure."

"It certainly has, geezus. I just came over here to tell you how hot you are," David laughs. "My initial pick up line would've been something about your hair color, but I'm not clever enough."

I turn his way after Sam, unprompted, brings me two shots, with a wink. I look him over, realizing that he must not know about my and Grayson's five-minute attraction to each other, or he doesn't care. David himself is pretty damn attractive, too. He looks white, but his eyes are a bit slanted, and his facial features hint at Japanese. His hair is very dark, very thick, and cut in a really careful way, as if it's an expensive haircut. He seems about my size, and his shirt is unbuttoned enough that I can see that he has a bit of muscle on his chest.

"W-what? My hair?" I ask, snapping back to reality. David smirks, because it definitely looked like I was checking him out, when I was just observing his features, taking him in. Do I find anyone attractive, or is every guy that's interested in me really that hot?

I realize my slow responses are making me look like an idiot, so I slide one shot of tequila David's way, and we toast before downing them fast. I wince a bit and run my hand through my hair. I can't help thinking of how I came here without a plan, but with a very prevalent 'someone' in my life already. I stare at my empty shot glass. David simply laughs, "Grayson says you don't take jokes well."

"My boyfriend tells me that too," I say quiet enough that he can hear it through the music. His jaw drops and he starts shaking his head. "Yeah, I know."

"You're buggin' me... you have a boyfriend? You could've. opened with that. Awwww..." David exaggeratedly puts his hand on his heart. "No way! Where is he?"

I shake my head. I just called Gabe my boyfriend, spontaneously, unscripted. Boyfriend. "He's in California. I know, I know; I should've opened with that but I didn't wanna sound like a dick. I'm so sorry." David simply smiles, still giving me exaggerated 'shocked' looks. I don't want him to leave. He's fun, and I need someone to talk to. God, I can even talk to David about Gabe, and there's no consequences.

David leans toward me. "You came to a gay bar without your boyfriend?"

I nod. "Yeah. I only came to look at hot gay men though," I laugh. I can't stop laughing at how idiotic my situation sounds. "I swear. That's all I'm here for." David gives me a look. "I swear. I'm a faithful person. He wouldn't like it here anyway. He's not into guys." At my statement, David takes the empty shot from my hand, indicating that I've had too much. "No! no, really. He's not usually into guys but—" I hiccup mid-sentence, "he's great to me. We're really compatible."

"You're in a danger area, my friend. Straight guys don't like men, even the men they're fucking. Unless he's bi. Is he bi?"

"He doesn't like other men. He... he likes me though," I nod.

David gives me a concerned look. "Oh, yeah. I don't doubt that he likes you but... honey, what are you gonna do when he decides he wants a nice pair of tits? Or, like, kids? You know white dudes play games."

I groan. "Stoooooop. I already have—" I hiccup again, "anxiety. And he's not white... Gabe is... we're in an understanding. We're not perfect, but he'd never do anything like that." A song comes on that I recognize. "If I could dance, I'd dance to this song." David just shakes his head at my changing the subject. "I um, I think we're just fucking anyway."

"Hmm," David says, beckoning for Sam to come over. David orders two beers. I haven't counted how much I've had, but this next beer will be pushing me toward St. Patrick's Day levels. "You're 'just fucking' your boyfriend? And he's loyal? He's not fucking anyone in Cali?"

I just shrug. I suppose I really don't know what he's doing outside of keeping up an image through OTech right now. "I don't know."

David pouts. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be an ass about anything. Can't help getting a little jealous. You're... I mean you're really good-looking, and your boyfriend isn't even here to appreciate you. If I had a boyfriend, especially one who looked like you, I'd come to this bar and let everyone know."

Our beers arrive, and I hesitate to touch mine. "David, can I tell you something?" I ask softly. He nods. "I'm seeing someone I'm not supposed to."

He lets his eyes get wide. "A secret relationship? Why?"

"It doesn't matter why it's a secret, it just is. And it fucking sucks, because we don't know what we want. And yeah, he could very well be fucking someone in California, and I have no say. And I came to this bar confused out of my fucking mind. I'm saying we're secret enough that Grayson doesn't even know."

David sips his beer. "Why are you telling me?"

"Because I literally haven't told ANYONE at all. I fucking can't. A-and I'm getting drunk so I hope you don't say anything to Grayson but I'm sick of hiding all my shit all the time."

David puts his hand on my leg, and then snatches it away. "You can say whatever you need to, Zeke. That's kinda the point of coming to a bar like this. Let things go."

I look at my beer, and then make the decision to chug it down before David beams at me, and does the exact same thing. "If I weren't in this weird situation, I'd flirt back," I say quietly. David smiles.

We end up talking for an hour before David insists we at least stand in a corner together, and we do. We're about the same height, but he stands up straighter than I do, naturally. David gets embarrassed easily at jokes, especially when he doesn't get it at first. He says he doesn't go out a lot, because he doesn't like leaving his cat. When I tease him about being a cat person, he playfully pouts and puts a finger up before digging into his pocket for his phone to show me pictures of "Margot".