1. Luke
JULY
Final results for June are attached.
Best regards,
Luke Tremblay - Financial Analyst (Internal)
Sent.
Another long, grueling reporting cycle is finally over. I collapse back in my office chair, the harsh glow of my dual monitors serving as the only company in my dark, quiet apartment. Letting out a breath, I rub my temples to diffuse some of the throbbing tension that’s driving me nuts.
I deserve a drink. It’s only a few steps to my kitchen where I grab a bottle of whiskey and pour a hefty amount into a tumbler. I take a slow sip, feeling the warmth spread through me. For a fleeting second, I let myself think that this will loosen me up for later, before reality comes crashing back. Out of my large friend group from university, I’m the only one who could afford to stay in Toronto, and “later” will probably consist of me working out and sleeping early.
Sighing, I toy with the idea of going out alone and meeting new people. Nothing ever seems to work, though, and the most I get from one of those nights is a random hookup. Those are fine, I guess, but if there’s something in my life that I’m lacking, it’s connection.
My phone buzzes on the desk and I smile once I see a few messages from my university friends. The other four guys are scattered across Canada and the world for grad school and exciting-sounding jobs. Scrolling through the chat, a pang of loneliness hits me. I miss the boys and when we all used to live together in a house on Bathurst Street.
Realizing that I ghosted them for the past week, I tap out a quick text to let them know I’m still alive. I’ve barely hit send on a second message before Stefano starts a group call. I answer, taking another sip of my drink as I connect.
“It’s Luke!” Stefano’s voice booms through the phone from Montreal. “He lives!”
“Yup, I’m alive,” I reply, my grin spreading.
Stefano laughs, which is followed by a chorus of greetings from Mark and Carl, both in Vancouver. And then there’s Adrian, who’s working in Hong Kong. His eyes are bloodshot and he’s still in bed.
“Fuck, it’s six in the morning here and I’m dying, but it’s awesome to see you guys,” he croaks, dragging a hand across his face.
“Alright, Luke,” Mark starts, smirking as he leans into the camera. “Give us a life update. Are you still working all the time?”
Stefano replies for me. “Nah, he only works the first and last two weeks of every month!”
I close my eyes and let out a tired laugh. “Okay guys, enough about work. I’m off the clock now, anyway.”
Not even a second of silence passes before Mark jumps in again. “Sure thing. You find a man yet?”
“Actually, I’m good to talk about work,” I respond.
Carl pipes up. “He’s probably still jaded about dating in Toronto.”
He’s not wrong about that. The dating scene here, if you can even call it that, is brutal. Half of the guys don’t know what they’re looking for, and the other half are already partnered up. It’s slim pickings all around, and I’ve given up trying for anything beyond a hookup here and there.
Stefano chuckles, which breaks me out of my thoughts. “You don’t need something serious tonight. Go hit up Church Street, find someone interesting, and see where the night goes.”
“That sounds like a lot of work.”
Mark rolls his eyes. “You’re just afraid of catching feelings, aren’t you?”
I scoff. “Please, I’d love to catch feelings if there was someone worth it.”
The boys all nod knowingly, but Adrian pulls his phone closer, showing me a flattering view of his forehead.
“At least leave your apartment. Don’t make me fly back and drag you out,” he mumbles. His mouth is right next to the microphone, which makes his voice come through a lot louder than I was expecting.
In all honesty, I would love for some of them to come back to Toronto. I just don’t say it.
“Come on,” Stefano says. “You’d better be hitting up Church Street tonight. Give us all the juicy updates tomorrow.”
My face heats up, but I ignore it. “Okay, I’ll go out, but I’m not making any promises.”
Adrian is falling asleep again, but he still manages to make an input. “Luke is gonna go out and get his dick wet tonight, and I’m gonna go back to bed.” He hangs up.
“Oh well, you can’t argue with Adrian because he’s gone! That means you have no choice but to go out,” chirps Carl.
“You guys are such a supportive bunch,” I reply, drinking the last of my whiskey.
Joking cheers ring through my speakers, someone changes the topic, and we banter a bit more before signing off.
I set my phone down on the oak coffee table, staring at the melting ice in my glass. Even though I’m alone, going out tonight would be a good idea, even if I don’t meet anyone. Branding my recent seclusion as self-improvement doesn’t do much to cover up the fact that staying in all the time isn’t healthy.
Heaving myself up off the couch, I head to the bathroom and inspect my reflection in the mirror while the shower warms up. I need to shave, get a haircut, and drink more water. The dehydration lines around my eyes won’t go away on their own. To be fair, I’ve kind of neglected myself over these past few weeks.
I step into the hot water, clean up, and dry off before changing into a beige button-down and a pair of black slacks. It’s simple, but it works. I’ve always preferred comfort over style, but I’m hitting Church Street, so I should step up my game a little. After pouring another drink, I do my skincare and hair, and give myself a final once-over in the hallway mirror. It’s time for me to head out.
The walk to Church Street doesn’t take long, and I’m in line for Teammate, my go-to bar. I pay cover and go in, weaving my way through the sea of bodies toward the stairs. I grab a stool at the edge of the second-floor bar and order a beer to steady my nerves.
This spot has a wide view of the place, allowing me to observe the crowd without feeling too exposed. The music pounds in my ears, drowning out my thoughts. Mindlessly, I scan the room, just to give my eyes something to do that’s not staring at my drink.
Then my gaze lands on a guy leaning against the wall opposite me, and I do a double-take. He’s tall, with broad shoulders that fill out his black t-shirt. He takes a sip, and a muscular arm flexes as he brings the glass toward his lips.
Fuck me, he’s hot.
His eyes are darting around the room as he lowers the drink before clutching it with both hands. He looks nervous, but I can’t imagine why.
Checking him out like this probably makes me seem super creepy. Before I can look away, our eyes lock, and a jolt of excitement shoots straight through me. I keep my cool and give him a quick upward nod, hoping it comes across as casual.
A shy smile appears on his face, and I grin back.
I steel myself to approach.
Taking a deep breath, I head his way, bristling nerves be damned. As I get closer, the guy steps aside and makes room for me. Those eyes are a piercing blue, and his smile is genuine. I try to ignore the knot in my stomach.
“Hey,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “I’m Luke.”
“Erik,” he replies, extending his hand.
As we exchange the usual pleasantries, I notice he has a slight accent that I can’t quite place, but it’s cute. We make small talk, and it’s clear he isn’t too comfortable with it.
“So, are you from around here?” I ask, trying to break the ice.
“No.” He takes another sip. “I’m from Sweden.”
“Nice.” Silence falls between us, and I feel unwelcome awkward energy creep up from my stomach.
“Sorry, I’m not good at introductions and stuff. I could blame being Swedish, but it’s really a me thing,” says Erik, running a hand through his tidy, dirty-blond hair.
I cock my head. “Don’t worry about it, you’re fine. Do you want another drink?” I ask, noticing that his glass is almost empty.
“Sure, let’s go.”
As we settle against the bar, I point to my glass. “Two more of these, thanks.” Without a second thought, I tap my phone against the card reader to pay.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Erik says, looking oddly surprised. Either he doesn’t get out much or he’s great at playing dumb, because there’s no way this guy hasn’t had someone buy him a drink before.
I laugh. “Don’t worry, you can pay me back some other way.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop myself, and Erik’s face flushes a light shade of pink. If only my friends could see me using cheesy pickup lines on hot strangers right now. They’d be so proud.
“Uh, so, what do you do for work?” Erik asks.
“I’m a Financial Analyst for Worldwide Bank. It’s pretty dull, but it pays the bills.”
Erik smiles. “Oh, so you’re smart, then.”
“Nah,” I reply, staying modest. “What about you?”
“I play hockey. AHL.”
Oh, god. He’s a hockey player.
Of course he’s a hockey player.
It seems like every single time I find a guy attractive, he just happens to play hockey. As much as I keep trying to convince myself that it’s just the muscles and ruggedness, it’s impossible. It’s a poorly-kept secret at this point: I have a thing for guys who can tie their skates up tight and tie me up even tighter.
“Oh! That’s cool,” I reply, saying something so that I don’t seem rude.
“Yeah, maybe, but it isn’t?—”
A raucous group of people crashes into the space beside us. They’re yelling, loud enough to drown out the music. I wince, trying to focus on Erik.
He seems to be having a similar experience, and his brow furrows. “This place is getting crowded,” he says, his voice barely audible over the commotion.
I nod in agreement. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”
Erik downs his beer and heads for the exit, his imposing frame parting the crowd and clearing a path for me. We reach the door and the cool night air is a refreshing change from the stifling heat of the bar. Erik lets out a relieved sigh.
“Much better,” I say, breaking into a smile.
“Definitely.”
“So, what do you want to do now?” My tone is totally casual, but inside, my mind is racing.
Erik glances at me, rubbing the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. “I didn’t even feel like going out tonight,” he admits. “It’s the first time I’ve been to a gay bar in, like, a year. My teammates showed up at my apartment after practice and practically shoved me out the door.”
Well, that explains his unfamiliarity around having someone buy him a drink.
Laughing, I shove my hands into my pockets. “Hah, that’s funny. My friends talked me into coming out tonight, too.”
He grins, and it’s the most relaxed I’ve seen him so far. “Seems like we both owe our buddies a favor.”
As we talk, our steps slow, and I realize that we’re walking by my building.
“Hey, this is my place,” I say, pointing. “Want to come up for another drink?” My breath hitches. While the prospect of undressing his hockey-toned body sounds extremely appealing, hooking up might not be the best way to start things off with Erik.
There’s a flicker of feelings, and I’m not opposed to letting those grow.
“I’d love to, but I have an early practice tomorrow, so I should get some sleep,” he replies.
That’s a bit disappointing, but not unexpected.
But my god, the way Erik is eye-fucking me right now says that he’s interested. He’s being subtle, but I can tell that he’s fixing his gaze below my neck.
I break the silence to save it from falling into awkward territory. “You’re a disciplined man, that’s for sure.”
He hesitates for a moment. “I had a great time tonight. Let’s exchange numbers.”
The direct way he says that surprises me, and I’m smitten. Smiling slightly, I unlock my phone and hand it over.
Erik hands my phone back after filling in his details and texting himself. Intrigued, I scroll through his contact, finding out that he just put his name in as “Erik”.
“Do you have a last name?” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s Norberg.”
I finish entering his information. “Thanks, I wanted to have you saved as more than Erik ‘Cute Guy from Bar’.”
Erik just stares at me, adorably confused at my attempt at flirting.
“Uh, you know you’re attractive, right?”
“I guess, maybe?”
He’s either fishing for compliments, secretly blind, or part of a cult that bans mirrors. There’s no way he doesn’t know.
A flustered laugh escapes Erik as he shifts awkwardly. “I’m just not used to hearing that,” he says, casting a quick glance off to the side.
“That’ll change if we hang out again.” I shoot him a wink that I hope isn’t awkward. “Text me and we’ll make something happen.”
“Sounds good. I’ll text you!” Erik says, abruptly turning around and walking away.
Okay, he’s slightly less suave than most other people who look the way he does.
Before heading into my building, I swivel my head back toward Eric’s departing figure, letting my eyes linger on the way his powerful legs propel him forward. Then I avert my gaze, because I don’t want to be that kind of creep who stares furtively at someone’s ass.
Even if said ass looks like it’s carved out of fucking granite.
I chuckle to myself. Hearing from Erik in the next few days wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Very far from it, in fact.