"I told you we knew." I gave him a knowing look. "I'm still a woman, remember? It comes with the gender—the scary instinct. See?"
"See?" Sophie echoed, her focus shifting back to the phone. "He gave you his number. Ask him if he's bi."
"He's not bi! And that's not it!!!" Mason yelled, his face flushing a deep crimson as he snatched his phone back from Sophie's grasping hands. He thrust the screen toward me, desperate to show me the real source of his obsession. "It's a gay pub! It opened recently, so he sent me the link! That's all I wanted to show you!"
"So you go to hardcore ones, do you?" I leaned back, a slow, teasing smirk spreading across my lips. "I didn't know you had it in you, Mason. Nice."
"N—" Mason bit his tongue, cutting himself off in the middle of a blatant lie. He visibly struggled to regain his composure, smoothing his hair with a trembling hand. Sophie and I exchanged a truly surprised glance; his reaction was a dead giveaway that he did, in fact, frequent such establishments. "Either way, it's just a pub. There's nothing bad about it."
"Mhm. Sure. If you say so." I took a slow sip of my drink, my eyes twinkling with amusement as I watched him squirm.
"What's the name of the place?" Sophie asked, her curiosity piqued as she leaned in closer. "Is it nearby? I've been to a gay pub before. The ambience is always lovely, and there are so many handsome men around."
"Hmph. Thank you." Mason puffed out his chest, looking far too pleased with himself.
"Ugh. Not you, as*hole." Sophie gave the shamelessly proud Mason a firm shove. "The few times I went there, I actually noticed something fascinating. You know, since I like watching from the shadows? Remember?"
"Yeah, you should probably stop doing that." I sighed, a flicker of genuine worry crossing my face. "I heard a guy at uni say you might be the stalker type of toxic. It'll be bad for your reputation if that rumour grows."
"Ah, no way! Again?" Sophie clutched her head, her eyes widening in sudden concern. "Was it the guy who's always in the red hoodie? Or the one with the blue dyed hair? I suppose I did follow them a bit too much. I just got lost in thought and... well, f*ck. So they actually saw me."
"Yeah, so just stop it. Please." I gave her a stern look, hoping the message would finally sink in.
"A—Alright, I know. I'll be more careful from now on." She bit her lip, looking sheepish for all of two seconds.
"Just don't do it!" Mason and I snapped in unison. We both knew she'd eventually find herself in a prison cell if she didn't pack it in.
"Anyway," she said, ignoring our warning with her usual practised ease. "In an interesting place like that, I found something very, very, very interesting. It's almost a rule, since so many of them do it when they're at places like that."
"What is it?" I asked, leaning forward.
"Well, you see... gay men... they have a very classy way of flirting." Sophie's tone became serious, almost ominous, drawing me into her confusing narrative. "I noticed they tend to approach their target and invite them for a drink. It's very smooth, very classy. Quite sexy, too."
"Oh, that. Yeah, most do that. Even heteros do though." Mason nodded, his expression confirming her theory with the authority of an insider.
"Yeah. But the thing is, even if they're rejected, they still buy the drink most of the time. Heteros fold faster." Sophie grew more enthusiastic, shifting in her seat to get comfortable. "I found that really interesting. Classy, well-mannered flirting. I was so fascinated that I actually sat at the bar to watch it from up close. You know what I always say: F*cking get that close-up or no sauce for the house will fill your mouth."
"Huh? What does that even mean? Since when do you say that?" Mason asked, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion.
"Forget it. You wouldn't understand." She waved a hand dismissively.
"Whatever. Going back to the flirty free drinks, it's a bit of an etiquette thing, if I had to put a name to it." Mason flexed slightly, looking proud of his community's standards.
"I didn't know that. This is the first time I've heard of it," I admitted, feeling quite impressed by the civility of it all.
"Even if you had heard of it, you'd have forgotten because you don't actually care about anything."
"Yep. That's true." I gulped down the last of my new can and shrugged, not particularly interested. It felt like the conversation was winding down.
"Either way, when I saw that, I was really jealous." Sophie sighed, her eyes distant. "If you think about it, there must be guys who practically never pay for their drinks thanks to that unspoken etiquette. Heteros also invite women for drinks, but there's something special about this specific kind of flirting. While I was at the bar that night, I even saw a guy buy three drinks for another guy who'd already said nothing would happen between them. I was thinking... if only I were more manly, maybe I could also get—Wait! Layna! You could drown in free drinks if you went there!"
"What?" I blinked, the gears in my head slowly turning.
That was the exact moment an idea was born—one that wouldn't last nearly as long as I had hoped.
***
It didn't make sense to me at first, but my friends allied together, explaining the details of a delusion that, at some point, somehow, came to be tested by us three idiots.
"You're right." Mason scanned me from across the table, his expression uncharacteristically serious as he considered Sophie's brainwave. "To this day, I sometimes think it's a waste that you're a girl. You're handsome, and you've got an average height that leans toward the cute side. Having short hair and dressing the way you do gives you a vibe many gay men would go for."
"Really? Is that why you refused to believe I was a girl until I made you grope my chest? Were you in love with me or something?"
"Don't you remember I nearly puked because of that?!" Mason's face turned a shade of scarlet. "It was just the shock! It's not an everyday occurrence to have a girl shove a guy's hand all over her soft breast! Ugh, idiot! Now that I think about it, that was practically sexual harassment!"
"It shocked you enough to remember they were soft, did it?" Sophie muttered, a sly grin playing on her lips as she enjoyed Mason's obvious embarrassment.
"Whatever. You were getting annoying, denying it every time you saw me. I just lost my sense of shame for a second. I did realise it was a bit much afterwards, but at least it worked." Even now, I regret doing that. I really should have cared more about my privacy.
"Sigh. You're beyond help." Mason shook his head, disappointed.
"I don't need help."
"Hey," Sophie interrupted, her eyes gleaming. "But you do need something, Layna."
"Hmm. New friends?" I suggested hopefully.
"Besides that." Ignoring me with Olympian grace, she delivered the final blow. "You need money."
"Wow. Hah. Thanks for the stab. You're so kind, next better call me a beggar." I rolled my eyes, though I knew she wasn't wrong.
"No problem," she chirped, offering a mock-sweet smile.
"Heh. Sophie's right, though." Mason leaned back, his tone turning practical. "I'm buying the drinks today, but how will you get your weekly dose of alcohol from now on, Layna? If there's one thing you enjoy, it's Friday nights when you can lock yourself away and drink like this. But not after tonight. I can't afford to keep another mouth fed."
"Tsk! As if I'd ask that of you. I don't know. Maybe I'll just abstain for a while—"
"Even you don't believe that." Sophie turned to Mason. "Hey, alpha gay boy, why don't you take her with you? To that pub?" She then turned back to me, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You say Layna could easily pass as a guy, so why don't you go with him and get yourself some free drinks from hot gay men! That way, you save money, get fancy cocktails, and Mason can... well, you could get the hunks Layna rejects! It fits you perfectly!" She burst into a fit of laughter, clutching her stomach.
"That's nonsense," I laughed, fully expecting Mason to be offended.
"That's actually a good idea." Mason's voice was steady, his eyes narrowing as he calculated the possibilities.
"Huh?" I stared at him, my jaw dropping. It turned out he was just as mad as she was.