It had been approximately two days since Alex's compelling conversation with Thomas.
Thomas.
Alex instinctively hid his face with a hand, cheeks burning up, a pinkish florid spreading across his sun-kissed features. He was currently sauntering towards a well-known bar, recommended by none other than his boss, Georgie—back when he had been finally convinced to go on vacation in the first place. Alex was only seeking a night of pleasantry and light drinking, yet knowing his past indulges, it would likely escalate to something more, as much as he hated to admit it to himself.
Upon entering the absolutely gorgeous cocktail lounge, he was greeted with a lustrous scent… sugar, spice and everything nice. He chuckled to himself, sliding into a fake leather-cushioned stool across from the counter where the alcoholic refreshments were meant to be served. Patiently, he waited.
The bartender eventually noticed a small man with coffee-colored hair loosely put up—beauty queen style—plastering a forcefully patient look upon his features.
"What can I get you, sir?" she asked, stepping over to him with two flops of her flip-flops.
"Arak," he promptly answered. A risky choice. He knew that there had been a number of deaths related to consuming methanol-tainted Arak—including an Australian rugby player—but the drink also could potentially be as strong as 70% alcohol. And he loved alcohol, but definitely not more than he loved getting drunk.
The bartender politely grinned. "I'll get to it."
Alex nodded, looking 'round the dimly lit bar in wonder. Just as he was beginning to lose track of time with his head in the clouds, a certain man with a particular cluster of curls plopped onto the stool right next to him.
"How you doin'?" Thomas grinned from ear-to-ear.
A typical Joey Tribbiani from Friends impersonation.
Bashfully, Alex studied the ground before flickering it back up to the man before him. "Good, I guess. Wait, no. I'm doing amazing. This place is so… so… amazing," he wondrously replied.
Thomas let out a slight chuckle, propping his elbow against the oak counter, his stubbled chin resting atop his caramel hand. Alex quietly noted that the man was inclining his body towards him in a way that clingy lovers did. Lovers, he inwardly smiled at. And, even though the taller man was fiercely popping his personal-boundaries bubble, Alex enjoyed the closeness, the way Thomas's arm pressed against his own, the touching of their sides, their thighs in contact with the others…
Alex was eternally grateful these stools were so closely knit together.
"You're such a tourist, Alex." The guy was practically beaming. "Cute bun, by the way. All dolled up—hair done up real big beauty style." He flashed his signature wink.
"Same to you, though a little bit more—how should I word this?—let down with a certain... poofy-floofiness."
Thomas laughed heartily. "So, what're you getting?"
"Arak."
There was a tiny silence that followed his reply. "Woah, darlin', you really put your life in your hands with all that alcoholic shit."
"Yes, well, life must be pretty cheap to people like me," he scoffed.
Thomas rolled his eyes playfully, still extremely touchy with Alex. Anybody watching them would've likely assumed that they were either together or Thomas was a flirt desperately trying to get into Alex's pants. And, for the most part, the second possibility seemed to be the case. But he wasn't complainin'.
Right at that moment, the bartender slid the Arak over to Alex, politely half-smiling. He laced his pallid fingers around the cool, compensating drink.
"Y'know that you came here on a very… special night, huh?" the southerner asked, casually changing the subject.
He raised his eyebrow, taking a petite sip of his drink. "Is that so? I didn't know," he mumbled. "Lucky me."
"Yep." Thomas eyed Alex's drink, devilish thoughts seeming to swirl around in that head of his. "Can't you tell?"
Alex cocked his head a little, examining the rather large bar. People were starting to dance; gentle, romantic music played smoothly through the speakers while wooden tables with mounds of colorful foods and exotic beverages were being eaten off of. Laughter began to echo as the volume rose, people talking over people talking over people talking over people...
Alex heard Thomas order a drink from the polite bartender happily. He noticed the drink was quite alcoholic, like his own yet slightly watered down.
Once the taller man was done, the simple drink enveloped his hand, Alex replied, "Looks like a pretty chill time at a bar to me. New York's bars are way different than the ones in Bali. The atmosphere here is... better, I guess. I'm not sure how to explain it."
The moment the last word left his lips, the short man's breath almost hitched. He wasn't sure how to explain why. Back in NY, he would have likely written fifty-one essays on the topic of this particular bar's atmosphere alone, but now... were things different? Was he becoming less "Alexander Hamilton?"
Hold up, he thought. I'm flirting with incredibly hot guy right now—why the hell am I thinking of this bar's atmosphere? This is my vacation, he reminded himself. Vacation.
"Yeah, I thought you'd say somethin' like that. Y'know, I like you a lot better when you're not angrily shouting at me about how I drive my jeep. But back to the subject," Thomas said, grinning at Alex's giggles. "Many, many people come here tonight to mostly just hang out 'n chill, dance, seek friends, drink 'til they drop, and possibly even find new lovers' for this special night—"
Alex practically choked on his Aruk, eyes lightly watering up and cheeks turning florid as he stared at the man with an unreadable expression. Thomas merely innocently grinned, raising his eyebrows. What a positive ray of sunshine. A positive, sexy ray of sunshine.
Thomas suddenly but slowly leaned closer to Alex's flushed face, cheekily remarking, "Everybody has a little love affair in Bali, darlin'."
