Two others stood close—too close to be mistaken for anything else—their heads bent together, their conversation private despite the noise.
No one was hiding. No one was pretending.
That was when I felt it. Not shock or even surprise, but recognition. Warmth unfurled in my chest.
This feels… right.
Stefan set a drink in front of me, and I took it, our hands brushing. I took a sip, but the taste barely registered.
“I don’t know where to look,” I admitted.
Stefan’s eyes sparkled. “That’s part of the experience.”
I shook my head. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
He leaned in, close enough that I could hear him without effort.
“You’re not missing anything. You’re just seeing it for the first time.”
I turned my head, meeting his gaze. “And you? What do you see?”
Stefan stilled. “You,” he said simply.
The noise of the bar seemed to drop away for a second, not gone altogether, but distant. Stefan didn’t look away, and I felt the weight of that gaze.
How to disarm me with a single word.
Then movement to my right caught my attention. Men passed through an unmarked door, set back from the main space.
I frowned. “What’s through there?” It wasn’t the bathroom—that was clearly marked.
Stefan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watched me for a second.
“It’s a dark room.”
I blinked. “The kind photographers use?”
He laughed. “Definitely not. A dark room is where men go to have sex.”
I stared at him. “That’s… all it’s for?”
Stefan nodded, his eyes trained on my face.
I glanced back toward the door. Another man disappeared through it.
“But surely no one can see a thing in there.”
“That’s part of the appeal.”
I let out a slow breath. “So how do you know if the man you take down there to…”
“Fuck?” Stefan said with a grin.
I rolled my eyes. “Okay—fuck. How do you know it’s him if you can’t see him?”
His grin widened. “Sometimes that’s half the fun.”
I drank some more, trying to process it, to imagine it.