Showing results for "The Last Call" in LGBTQ+

Maybe asking my burly golden retriever contractor to be my fake fiancé was a bad idea. But as the saying goes, desperate times and all that. Listen, getting married again sounds about as fun as a shopping spree in a dumpster, so dating is definitely off the table. I've resisted Oakley's tempting presence, knowing it can only lead to trouble, and I don't need any more of that. Despite the obvious attraction, we've managed to keep a platonic and professional distance.

Anyone who spends time with me knows two things. One: If I want something, I get it, which is how I end up back in my old college haunts, buying a dilapidated bar with my five best friends and staring down the barrel of an unknown future. Two: The idea of settling down makes my skin crawl, and that's how I made it to forty with zero serious relationships in the rearview mirror. At least I'm smart enough to hire the right people. Enter Salem Barlowe, the prettiest twink who ever twinked and my personal kryptonite.

The college twink scene is wearing on me. Sure, it works out for a no-commitment guy like myself, but the constant drama and nameless rotation of pretty boys in and out of my bed isn't as exciting as it once was. Maybe watching one of my best friends find love is poking at me too. That's what was on my mind when someone new walked into Moby's looking lost, nervous, and extremely biteable. It only seemed right that I offered to keep him company, and when he readily accepted, I was looking forward to trying someone older, mature, and not looking for anything serious. Just like me.