Two more men offered to pay for his refill, and two more men walked away disappointed. Charlie caught the bartender’s curious gaze more than once, but he didn’t feel like explaining why he was hanging out at the club on Queer Night if he wasn’t actually going to talk to any of the guys. He didn’t actually have an answer to that anyway. Because it didn’t make a whole lot of sense, even to him.
The next guy who approached didn’t speak to him right away. Stepping into the space between Charlie and the stool, he leaned forward and ordered a Beck’s before glancing in Charlie’s direction. Blue eyes. A dimple. Shoulders that made it impossible to see around him. Before Charlie could look away, the guy told the bartender to fill up Charlie’s nearly empty pint glass.
The refusal died on Charlie’s lips. Maybe it was the beer getting to his head. Or maybe he was tired of wondering what he was doing here if he wasn’t going to at least say hello to someone.