"Huh? W-we aren't that—" Mason sighed, his shoulders dropping. "Alright, who am I kidding? I think I love him, girls."
He declared it with a sudden burst of confidence, giving up on acting shy and openly fawning over a guy he barely knew. He was getting far too invested in this newly born relationship.
"It's a bit soon to say that, don't you think?"
"You're right. But either way, back to the topic. It's fine if you want to stop now. If things do go well with my cutie, I wouldn't like you to go on your own since it's dangerous."
"Right." I tried to restrain the look of disgust from showing on my face. I finished the issue regarding the free drinks and moved on to another matter that had me feeling even more nervous. "Anyways. Let me prepare my stomach before you start flexing about your new guy, alright? You know I'm not good with that subject."
"Tsk. You're so not nice. As if it could actually make you puke—"
"Sophie." I ignored him as he spoke the blunt truth. I turned to look at her while still lying flat on the table. "I think I'll need some of your help."
"With what? What am I good for?"
I took a moment to reconsider, then decided to go for it anyway. I straightened up to sit properly, fixing my friend with a serious look to ask for real advice. "I will need you to lend me some more formal clothes. I can't go to the company in my usual gear, and Mum's clothes are... well. You know."
"Ah, right. You can't go looking like a hippie to such a big company."
"That's right. It doesn't suit me."
"That's your only reason?" she asked, making me aware that professional standards should probably be the priority. "Wanna go to my room later? I can give them to you today."
"Ah. What day is it today? Is it Thursday?"
"Wow," Mason cut in. "You don't even know what day it is? The bliss of having no real life," he trilled, swaying his head back and forth to mock my unemployment.
"The calendar says it is indeed Thursday, b*tch." Sophie shoved her phone toward my face, clearly annoyed that I was so free while she struggled with her university modules.
"Sigh, sorry. I really can't today. I have some things to do, even if you don't believe it."
"Like what? Fart in your pyjamas while you watch some stupid reality show?"
"That, and enjoying my last few days of freedom. Montoya's a funny guy, alright? If you watched it, you would know." I lied through my teeth. I wasn't actually going to do that at all tonight.
For a while now, I've been hiding something from Mason and Sophie. That something is that I wasn't only going out on Saturdays with Mason to the pubs.
A few months ago, I got upset with him after he cancelled our plans at the last minute three times in a row. He had all sorts of weird excuses, and since I had already spent time getting ready, I went downtown on my own out of spite. I found a bar that I started to visit every Thursday. I felt comfortable going there alone on a weekday, and I kept it a secret from Mason and Sophie to maintain my own little sanctuary.
Today was my last chance to go there before I started work on Monday. I wanted to keep it a secret until the very end; it felt like my own private world, a small, rebellious whim.
It was a gay men's bar, of course. Although I go out every Thursday and Saturday, I'm still poor enough that I can't really afford many drinks. The bar had exactly what I needed: classy flirting to secure at least one drink for free, in addition to the one I always bought for myself.
Thursday was also perfect because it wasn't busy. Business is slow that day, and the ambience is truly lovely. The place has always been relaxing—quiet enough to just sit and enjoy a drink alone if I feel like it. One could even call it fancy; the music always matched the calm atmosphere and the well-mannered staff.
The fact that the prices weren't as high as I expected, given the elegant interior design, surprised me at first. I suppose it was because of the limited menu, as they only served drinks. In the end, the atmosphere was the main reason I kept going back, until it became a fixed part of my weekly agenda.
But then, that's not all there is to it. I ended up becoming friends with the bartender, Ruben, and also—
"Connor, huh? That's a nice name. I'm Xavier. Nice to meet you." I recalled how he had introduced himself the very first day I met him at the bar.
There is another acquaintance I made there. I met this guy on my second visit, actually. Once I had decided to become a regular, he started buying me cocktails whenever he ran into me. He would always make conversation for a little while, his voice smooth and engaging, before eventually leaving with whichever guy approached him later—someone he deemed a "sure home run" to end the night with.
He was clearly one of those effortlessly handsome, successful types. At least, that was the impression I'd gathered, considering how many men in this place knew his name and seemed desperate to spend a single night in his company. Perhaps it was simply because he was a regular at the bar, but either way, I knew I could usually count on a free drink whenever he was lurking around.
Today marked my final visit for a while. I needed to knuckle down and focus on earning enough cash to buy my own damn alcohol by the time I eventually returned.
I wandered through the bustling downtown streets for a bit, soaking in the crispness of the night breeze. It felt refreshing against my skin, a gentle reminder that winter was finally losing its grip. I turned the corner at that wide junction, a vibrant hub where the city truly came alive after dark. Restaurants, pubs, and karaoke bars were packed with people enjoying the open-air seating, and I'd even spotted a few busy cyber cafes. It was fascinating to see how many people still flocked here on weekdays, a secret world I'd only discovered thanks to my little hidden sanctuary.
At the boulevard in the middle of the block, I headed down a short flight of stairs and pushed open the heavy wooden door. It was just as elegant as the interior of the bar itself. Glass of Prism was its name, and just thinking about it made me smile. It had a stylish, mysterious ring to it that suited the atmosphere perfectly.
I entered as usual, and the chime of the little bell announced my arrival. A few patrons glanced my way, but most were far too busy huddled with their "friends" to care. The bartender, looking slightly bored, looked up to fulfil his duty and grinned the moment he realised who it was. He continued to polish a glass that was already spotless, welcoming me as I took my usual seat directly across from him.
"You're here earlier than usual today, Connor." Ruben leaned over the polished mahogany, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Too bored at home? Or did the thirst kick in a bit early tonight?"
"Even when I'm here, I'm bored, Ruben." I offered a small, weary smile. "The only saving grace of this place is that the drinks make the boredom slightly less insufferable. How's the night treating you? Any juicy stories to share yet?" I asked him, my grin widening. He was a fantastic storyteller when the mood struck him.
"And why should I tell you anything if you think this place is so dull?" Ruben teased, arching a groomed eyebrow. "I'm not being paid to bore the customers to sleep with my life story, Connor."
"Oh, come on." I nudged the counter, giving him my best pleading look. "I take it back. This place isn't boring at all. It's only interesting because of your great stories, Ruben."