Free The Two-Night One-Night Stand by Ryan Ringbloom

music.
    “Yeah, sure.” He leans in closer to my ear so I can hear him. “You like Lemon Drops?”
    I don’t know what that is but I say, “Sure,” and the bartender pours up two shots. They go down smooth. Easy. They’re not that strong. I hold up two fingers. The bartender mixes up two more and once again, down the sweet, weak alcohol goes.
    “From here?” The bartender points to my change sitting on the bar.
    “No, these are on me.” Jeremy reaches into his back pocket for his wallet.
    “No, take it from here. And add two more on, less lemon, more vodka this time.” I instruct the bartender, and encourage Jeremy to put his wallet away. “Tonight’s on me. My way of saying thanks for asking me to join you.”
    Jeremy gives my shoulder a tight squeeze. “I’m really glad I did,” he says, leaning in close enough that the coarse hairs of his beard graze my earlobe.
    The third shot is set in front of us and this time it leaves a powerful sting when it slides down my throat. I place another fifty down on the bar for me and the new friend I’m incredibly glad to have made. Maybe that loner theory wasn’t too far off. Now, if only I can find a girlfriend or at the very least, a date that lasts longer than one night, I’ll be all set.
    “You ever date anyone at work?” I ask. Tonight’s going so well, it has me reconsidering if perhaps I should ask out one of the girls from the hospital.
    “Once,” he says with a sigh. “It didn’t go so great. Not like this is going.”
    “Exactly,” I say with conviction. “This is great, that’s why I’m asking.”
    “This is great,” he agrees and once again leans forward, the scruff of his beard squeamishly close to my face. His fingers walk their way over to my thigh, giving it a firm squeeze.
    Huh? What’s going on here? This isn’t right. Peen’s aware something’s wrong and tries to warn me.
    Jeremy’s face moves in even closer, lining up with mine. I don’t understand what’s going on, and when I do, my reaction time is slowed by the three shots of vodka sloshing their way through my system.
    His fur-covered face moves in.
    His dry lips part.
    I see teeth.
    I see tongue.
    Ohhhhhhh noooooooo. Ruuuuuuunnnn! Peen shouts in slow motion.
    But it’s too late and before I can take action, his tongue crashes down and swirls over my tightly sealed lips.
    CODE GREEN! EVACUATE THE BUILDING! Peen shrivels up inside me to take cover. Either that or he’s dead.
    My head jerks back with such vigor, I may actually have whiplash. I gulp a breath, sucking in the rancid scent of lemon mixed with the apple cider that lingers on his breath. A rumbling gurgle forces its way up my throat and I somehow manage to swallow it back down.
    Jeremy sits back in his seat and I stay glued in place. We both just stare ahead. I open my mouth but no words come out. My lips slam shut. I think it’s best if I wait for him to say something first.
    “You’re not gay, are you?” he asks after a full minute’s gone by.
    “No.” I reach for my beer and guzzle down a long swig. Jeremy is gay? I scramble for any type of logic I can muster. But he has a beard? Gay guys don’t have beards. I’m being ridiculous. But come on… how did I not know? Or is the better question, how did he not know I was straight?
    “I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure when I asked you out.” He plays with the white cocktail napkin under his cider. “But you said yes, then you paid for the drinks, sang along with One Direction, we started drinking Lemon Drops, then you asked about dating at work. I just thought….” He stops. “Shit. I totally fucked up.”
    I reach up and scratch the back of my neck. It wasn’t him. This was my fuckup. Glancing around the bar with new eyes, I mentally curse myself for not seeing this night for what it so clearly is. The bartender is wearing a vest with no shirt. Two men are having a dance off to a Britney Spears song. There isn’t one girl in the place; it’s a total