Love Someone {Hardzello love story}

Fifteen

Ben had never done this before. The whole gay club experience. Men dancing close, wearing provocative clothing with hopes of finding someone handsome to go home with. Ben didn't want to go home with just anybody. He wasn't a hopeless romantic, not in the least, but he still wanted to have some form of connection with the person he spent his evening with.

He had yet to find that, choosing to stray clear of the dance floor as he sat by the bar, nursing his beer. His week had been absolute hell and he thought he'd try something different. Something new. He was sure it sounded ridiculous. He wasn't some twenty-year-old lad fresh off the plane, looking for a bit of fun.

He was a grown man who career and responsibilities, sitting in a very loud bar, drinking a very warm beer, hoping that the right one would have to come along so he wouldn't have to go home alone again.

People had come up to him; good looking men who liked what they saw in him and hoped to take advantage of that, but he passed on them all. Maybe he was being picky. Maybe he was a fool. Maybe he was just shit out of luck and missed his last chance to have something good. He just didn't know.

Ben jumped when a body slammed into his next to the bar, his hand hitting into his glass; he barely touched beer splashing over the rim of the glass and onto the counter. The man was leaning over the bar, trying his best to see names of the bottles across the way. He turned his head, catching Ben's eyes before looking down at the mess he had caused.

"Oh. My bad, man." He apologized lazily. "You good?"

"Fine," Ben answered, using the stray napkins on top of the bar to mop up the puddle.

"Hi! Rum and coke, please? And . . ." The man paused, looking over to Ben and his glass. "what is that? Bud? Whatever you have on tap for this guy."

Ben raised his brow, caught off guard once again by his bar-mate. The drink had slipped, but it wasn't the end of the world. It was Ben's own fault for not finishing it while he had the chance. The night was growing long and the wild ones were coming out of the woodwork. He shouldn't have been surprised that an overzealous patron would come along.

"Nah, Nah. You should have a fresh drink." The man insisted, pulling his wallet out to grab the cash he had. He tossed the bartender the bills, thanking them as their drinks had been placed in front of them.

The man lifted his glass, clinking it against the ice cold replacement Ben had been given. "Cheers!" He announced, turning around so he could lean back against the bar and survey the scene.

Ben hummed in response, sipping slowly at his drink. It was better, that much was for sure. He appreciated that. It made the night a little less disappointing.

"Questioning?" The man called out suddenly.

"I'm sorry?"

"You just . . . you seem kind of out of place." The man told him, shimming his shoulders in a way that made Ben feel like he was sort of being made fun of. "You've been sitting here for a while."

"You've watched me?"

"No dancing or drinking. This isn't exactly the 'come and contemplate about life' sort of places."