The House

✨ Chapter Three | Lost

It was a new year. It was seven o'clock.

Liam was going out.

Ethan and Julian were off at Julian's family cabin for the weekend. Morgan was out with Kyle, his newest guy, spending the night at his dorm.

Aiden hadn't lasted more than a month.

Liam figured the breakup happened right after that awful game of Never Have I Ever, when Aiden ghosted from the cabin the next morning. No goodbye. Just gone.

Morgan had been in a terrible mood after that. Liam assumed they'd argued, and that was it. The breakup must have happened right before New Year's Eve.

Now, sitting in the quiet house after dinner, Liam decided maybe sitting at a bar alone gave him a better shot at someone approaching him than moping on the couch again.

He was still in a rut. Still meant what he'd said about not trying anymore. But maybe... if he made it easy for someone else to make the first move? Maybe that was the loophole. Let them come to him. And if no one did? Whatever. He'd get a few cocktails and Uber home.

He fixed his dark hair the best he could and threw on something tight but not desperate, classy enough to feel confident.

He got in with his fake ID, still one year shy of drinking legally, and made a beeline to the bar. It was pretty packed for a weekday, which hopefully meant better odds of someone noticing him.

The bartender was hot. Unfortunately, Liam recognized him the second he turned to wipe down the counter.

Oh no.

A few months ago, after getting stupidly hammered and being dared by Ethan, Liam had slipped this guy his number. The bartender had been weirdly nice about it. Texted him later that night to say Liam was cute, but he couldn't flirt with customers. Said it was against policy. He even apologized for texting at all, said he could've gotten in trouble but wanted Liam to know it wasn't personal.

Liam had replied with a simple thank you, and left it at that.

Now, sitting at the bar, Liam wasn't sure if the guy remembered him. He hoped not.

He ordered his drink and thanked him. The bartender didn't show a hint of recognition. No long look. No awkward pause. Just a nod and a quick pass of the cocktail, his hands already moving on to the next task.

Liam let out a sigh of relief and turned his focus to the crowd, sipping his drink and scanning the room.

This was his first time coming here alone. The gay bar had become the roomies' go-to spot. They all had fake IDs, and no one had ever gotten caught here. The place always seemed understaffed, the workers perpetually frazzled. Not the best security, and it worked in their favor.

By his third drink, just when Liam was ready to give up and head home, someone finally approached him.

"Hey, kid. What's your name?"

The guy was tall, tan, wearing tight black jeans and a fitted black t-shirt that clung to a body like a linebacker. The fabric stretched over his chest like it was barely hanging on, and Liam immediately forgot how to act.

He glanced up and got lost for a moment in striking blue eyes.

"Uh... Liam."

"Liam," the guy repeated with a slow smirk.

Liam looked down, trying not to grin, but failing.

"How old are you, Liam?"

Liam froze.