Page 15 of His Secret

Once we park, we find our way inside, get a stamp on the hand, and then go straight for the bar.

Adrian orders a beer, and I get a fancy iced tea, which is basically just an iced tea and lemonade combo.

The bar is crowded with people trying to get drinks, so we quickly move away and find a high-top table to stand near.

There are quite a few people on the dancefloor, plenty of people lingering against the wall, and several people at tables.

“Sooo,” I say, looking around. “What’s your type?”

He chuckles nervously. “Uhh, well, I don’t know. Umm.”

“Okay, are we thinking big, like you,” I say, eyeing his arms. “Smaller? Feminine? Masculine? Brown hair or blond hair?” I take a sip of my drink.

“I don’t want anyone as big as me. I mean, that’s a lot of weight.”

“Okay,” I say with a snort. “So, no bears for you.”

“Uhh, no.”

“Do you watch porn?”

He looks around like he’s nervous someone is going to hear…or care. “Well, yeah.”

“What do you typically watch?”

Adrian shifts, his face flushing slightly. “This feels weird to talk about.”

“Why? Because it’s gay porn? I bet you or your friends have talked about watching porn, or talked about what type of girls you like. Big boobs. Big ass. Etcetera.”

“Okay, well, yeah, but I don’t tell my friends which porn clip I was watching.”

I point out a guy in front of us. He’s got a little makeup on, blond hair, and a tank top that shows off his small frame.

“Mmm. Not really.”

The next guy I point out has slightly darker hair and pale skin. He’s wearing khaki shorts and a maroon shirt. He’s also wearing glasses and looks a little older than us.

Adrian gives me a look that screamswhy did you even ask?

“Well, I’m trying to help,” I say with a laugh.

“What about that one?” I ask, pointing to a Black guy with a bright smile, wearing jeans and a Polo shirt.

He tilts his head from side to side. “Maybe.”

“He’s not too big. Not too small.”

“Just right? Are we Goldilocks now?”

“Notwe,” I say. “You. I know my type.”

“What is it?” he asks.

“Nope. We’re here for you.”

He grumbles and takes a drink. “Should we dance?”

“I don’t dance,” I tell him. “Plus they’ll think we’re together, which won’t be helpful. In fact, maybe I should go to the bathroom and see if someone approaches you.”

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