The stranger at the bar

Ryder’s POV.

The night was almost perfect — the low music, the soft light spilling off the chandeliers, the way laughter hummed through the air like smoke.

I was leaning on the bar, drink in hand, talking with a couple of the guys from the firm. It had been months since I’d seen them, and honestly, it felt good just to unwind.

“Man, look at you,” Jason said, slapping my shoulder. “You disappear for two years and show up like you own the place.”

I laughed. “Business keeps me busy, you know that. Meetings, deals — same old story.”

“Business brought you to the city this time, huh?” Marcus asked, raising a brow. “Or someone?”

I grinned into my glass. “Definitely business.”

They groaned in mock disappointment. “You’ve gotten boring, Ry.”

“Yeah, well,” I said, glancing around the room, “I’ll take boring over broke.”

We laughed, and for a moment, everything felt easy. Just guys catching up, teasing each other, letting the night stretch. But then Jason leaned in and nodded toward the bar. “Hey… isn’t that the guy you helped at the door earlier?”

I turned. The boy from outside. He was sitting at the end of the bar. His mask was slightly tilted, his drink untouched, eyes distant like he was somewhere else entirely.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “That’s him.”

“Why the hell will you help a stranger?” One of them questioned.

I turned to him with a smile. “Drop some cash in the club, then two of us can have a little chat on who I bring into the club.”

“Oh, my God!” Another exclaimed. “Don't tell me you have eyes on that innocent man already.”

“Shouldn't I be?” My lips curled into a smirk as I took another sip of my drink. “He's cute. And most of all he looks like an innocent nerd that needs to be taught one or two things.”

“It's always the nerdy ones, isn't it?” They laughed.

I turned back to the boy. “Hey, how about we catch up later?” I asked, getting up.

“Take it easy on him,” one of them shouted after me.

“Hey,” I said, resting a hand on the counter beside him. “Didn’t think you will come here to drink yourself to a mess after I let you in.”

He blinked, surprised, then gave a small smile. “Oh. Yeah… thanks for that.”

“No problem.” I studied him for a second. His hands were trembling slightly, and his eyes — behind those glasses — carried a heaviness that didn’t belong at a party like this. “You alright?”

He nodded too quickly. “I’m fine. Really.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I said I’m fine.” He forced a laugh and stared at his drink.

I leaned closer. “You sure? Because you look like a guy who wants to be anywhere but here.”

He sighed, then looked up at me. “You can’t relate.”

“Try me.”

He hesitated, chewing the inside of his cheek. The mask of confidence he’d been wearing cracked just a little. “It’s just… school stuff. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try an Asian man,” I joked, taking a seat beside him.

He gave a tired smile, the kind people make when they’ve given up arguing. “Alright, fine. It’s about a friend. He liked his roommate but couldn’t say anything because… well, his family’s the kind that doesn’t like gays or anything that isn’t white and straight. And now the roommate moved out — with his boyfriend — and my friend’s just… angry at himself.”

He looked away after that, swirling his drink like it held the answer.

I nodded slowly. “Your friend, huh?”

He gave a short laugh. “Yeah. My friend.”

“Sounds like your friend’s been through hell.”

“He’s an idiot,” he muttered. “Should’ve said something when he had the chance. Now it’s too late.”

I leaned back, studying him. “You know, coming out was the hardest thing I ever did. I lost a lot of people for it. But I gained myself.”

He looked at me, shocked. “You gay?”

“C'mon bro,” I raised a brow. “Does this party look like something straight men can pull? This is a private event that most people don't know of—”

“Didn't take me long enough to find it,” he muttered.

“We are no cult. Finding it isn't the issues, it's getting in.”

He nodded, taking another sip of his drink. “So you came out?”

“Yeah,” I said. “And I’m still here. Living and doing better than I was when I was pretending.” I nodded toward the crowd. “And so is a lot of men here who aren't wearing masks. The rest— ” I shrugged.

He nodded but didn't say more.

“So your friend didn't come out, why?” I asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

He gave a small, crooked smile. “His family’s… strict. My friend wouldn’t last a day if they found out.”

I sipped my drink. “Then ask your friend this — what’s he achieved following every word his parents ever said?”

That shut him up. He didn’t answer. He just sat there, thinking, the silence stretching between us like a confession neither of us wanted to name.

We started talking again — about life, about how hard it is for people like us. I told him about my parents, how they’d disowned me when I told them the truth. “It hurt,” I admitted, “but I’d rather be hated for who I am than loved for who I’m not.”

He was quiet for a while, then said softly, “That’s brave.”

“It’s not bravery,” I said. “It’s survival. And if your friend wants to live, really live, he has to stop hiding.”

He nodded, his eyes glassy.

“Tell your friend to go for it,” I said gently. “Confess. Worst case, he gets rejected. Best case…” I smiled. “He finally gets to stop pretending.”

He didn’t answer. Just stared at his glass again.

“So,” I asked, trying to lighten the mood, “what are you doing here tonight?”

He laughed, the sound soft but genuine. “Trying to think. Or trying not to.”

“Looks like both.”

We kept talking. He loosened up a little — maybe it was the alcohol. Or maybe it was me.

He checked his wristwatch and turned to me. “I have to go,” he muttered, pulling out some bucks and giving the bartender.

When he tried to stand, he stumbled, catching himself on the counter.

“Whoa,” I said, steadying him. “You’ve had enough, man.”

He chuckled weakly. “Guess so.”

“Where do you live? I’ll drop you off.”

He shook his head. “No. I’m fine. I’ll walk.”

“In that state? Not happening.”

He didn’t answer, just swayed a little. So I sighed and said, “Alright. My room it is.”

I dragged him to my room in my room. I hardly invited or brought people over but I kinda had a soft spot for nerd guys with glasses.

They say everyone had a weakness. I was no different.

He was half-asleep on his feet when we got into the room. I led him inside, helped him to the couch.

“Hey,” I said softly. “Lie down for a bit.”

He did, eyes fluttering. I inhaled deeply, catching my breath for a second before removing his glasses.

The clear light making his face glitter like diamond. I didn't realize until now. This guy was hotter than hell.

Thank goodness, I got him before anyone else did.

As I leaned closer to admire his face, his eyes opened. We just stared into each other eyes. The only sound heard was the sound of our breathing, steady and uneven.

Then his hand came up, trembling slightly, and touched my cheek.

“Hey,” I whispered.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled me closer and kissed me.

That was bold. Like really bold. No one had ever made the first move on me. I always did. They drew me in and I dominated them.

This move was against everything I embodied. But instead of pulling away, I deepened the kiss. And hell for someone who haven't been with a guy — or a girl, he was…damn good.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us breathless, I searched his eyes. “You sure about this?”

Of course, I wasn't the bad guy you read in books. I had manners — ask for your meal, then devour it like it's going to be your last meal.

“Very sure,” he muttered and pulled me into another kiss.

My shirt coming off in one smooth motion, landing somewhere on the floor. My hands pinning his head to mine, our tongue tasting every part of our mouth.

I broke the kiss after a while with a mischievous smile. “Tonight… tonight, I'll teach you how to be a man…Aiden.”