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Noé

With my elbows propped on the counter, I stood at the bar and stared at my phone.

“Sorry, No. Something came up.”

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. Shit. There goes my bed for tonight.

I don’t know why I was internally grinning. Maybe it was because Sabrina had been long overdue on my hit list. At least tonight wasn’t too bad. The weather was good, and I could still head down to the lake if nothing else came up. It was still better than going home. Slightly annoyed, I glanced at Sabrina’s text message again.

She even uses that stupid abbreviation for my already short name.

I was about to put the phone away when a message from Steffan popped up. He knew that we finished our last set shortly before midnight, as we did every Friday, and was probably all worked up at home. Being bisexual had its advantages, but it felt like I had to put in more effort.

Although Steffan was a safe bet, there was something about him that made me hesitate every time. I switched on airplane mode before returning to the app.

“By the way, there’s a privacy setting for that,” a voice suddenly said next to me.

What the fuck?

I slowly turned my head, narrowing my eyes. “Why are you staring at my screen, man? That’s none of your business.”

The guy widened his eyes as if he had just realized what he had done. His jaw tensed, and he pushed up his glasses. “Oh damn, sorry. That ... slipped out. I didn’t mean to. It’s just a bad habit of mine.” He waved awkwardly to Claude, the bartender. “Can I have a beer?”

“What did you not mean?” I asked, my expression blank yet secretly amused because I didn’t dislike the guy. “Reading other people’s messages?”

“No, I mean intruding ... talking without thinking. I didn’t read anything, believe me. I’ve seen you play here often, so I guess I forgot that you don’t know me at all.”

I raised my eyebrows, wondering just how much the guy resembled Clark Kent with his glasses. Although not as muscular as Henry Cavill, he still had broad shoulders and looked quite decent with his dark brown hair and open black jacket. We were about the same height and appeared to be about the same age. He seemed quite normal standing there, waiting for his beer, and would have probably preferred to sink into the ground under my scrutinizing gaze.

In his defense, I had to admit that people here sometimes did talk to me as if I should know them. But I was just the bassist. Tom was the singer and was in the spotlight in at least half of all our songs since we were mostly instrumental with our jazz.

“All right, Superman,” I said, turning to him. “Enlighten me.”

“Superman?” Clark Kent asked in a confused tone. “No, I’m Alex.”

Claude smirked as he handed him the beer, which made me suspicious again. “Do you know this guy?” I asked outright.

“Yup, he’s here almost every Friday, but if I’m not mistaken,” Claude replied, turning to Alex, “you never stay until the band finishes playing. What happened?”

“Uh, yeah. The party I usually go to was canceled.”

“Then we’re in the same boat,” I grumbled, holding out my phone to him. “So, what do I need to do?”

“You have to go into the app,” he said in a very reserved tone. “To the settings. Select privacy. If you turn this on, no one will see if you’ve read their messages. But you also won’t see if they’ve read yours.”

“Ah, okay. Thanks.”

I left the new setting on and returned to the app to read Steffan’s message.

“Wanna have some fun tonight?”

I pursed my lips thoughtfully. At least I’d have a bed for tonight. But did I want it to be Steffan’s? The guy never left his apartment—he even worked out at home. The chance of running into him in a bar was like winning the lottery. But I had to admit, there was something off about him.

“Not a good message?” Alex asked, taking a sip of his beer as if he wanted to take cover behind the glass from potential curses.

“Depends on how you look at it,” I replied, putting the phone in my back pocket.

Alex raised his glass toward me and smiled. He seemed nice and harmless but also quite nervous. I raised my glass in response to his friendly gesture and took a sip of my soda. To show my gratitude despite my harsh words, I put on a charming smile.

“You’re here every Friday?” I asked, leaning back against the bar.

“Yeah. I meet up with a few friends here for after-work beers. Over there.” He pointed to the lounge corner. “You’ve probably seen them.”

I followed his finger to the lounge corner. “Are you an architect?”

“No! I ...”

“Alex! Still here?” Patrick called out, slamming his empty glass on the counter and waving to Claude. “Long time no see. You actually stayed until the end.”

“Yeah,” Alex replied, placing his hands in his pocket.

“And you also know our guitarist?” I asked, reaching for my glass again.

Patrick ordered a beer from Claude, then flashed a wide grin and wrapped his arm around Alex’s shoulder. “The kid’s a photographer. All the good architecture firms in the city know him.”

I nodded in approval. “Photographer. Interesting.”

Alex wriggled out of Patrick’s embrace and looked a bit uncomfortable. When he noticed my gaze, he raised one corner of his mouth and took a big gulp of beer.

He had gorgeous eyes and a small scar in his right eyebrow. His dark brown hair glistened with a silky smoothness as if freshly washed. He was also clean-shaven and looked so tidy and well-groomed that I could almost smell his shower gel—a refreshing change from the sweat-filled air.

Before I stared at him for too long, I broke my gaze and focused on his hand holding the beer glass. His nails were impeccably groomed, giving the impression that he regularly went for manicures. The guy looked like he had just stepped out of an egg, and I instantly felt dirty and sweaty, which wasn’t surprising since I had spent the last two nights in the rehearsal room. My long hair was so greasy that I didn’t even dare to wear it down anymore.

A shower is overdue. I definitely need to find somewhere to stay tonight. As long as I still have fresh clothes, I don’t need to go home.

While Patrick was waiting for his beer and talking to Alex, Tom, our band’s frontman, came to the bar. “Here,” he said, pressing three hundred francs into my hand. “That’s the fee and tip from last week.”

“Thanks,” I said, shoving the notes into my pocket. “The Cristal gang?”

“Yeah, the Cristal gang,” confirmed Tom, brushing a few black locks from his face. “Lisa said they partied until five in the morning. Ten bottles of Cristal champagne and three bottles of Grey Goose were on the bill in the end. Accordingly, the tip flowed generously. And they even threw in something extra for the band.”

“They’re welcome to come back anytime.”

“That’s what I said.” Tom laughed, turning to Alex and Patrick. “Hey, Alex! How’s it going?”

“You know the dude too?” I asked, no longer surprised.

“Hey, Tom. It was a good concert.”

“Thanks! Unfortunately, I have to head out. It was nice seeing you again.” Tom then turned back to me. “Wednesday at the rehearsal space?”

I nodded. “Yeah, see you then.”

“Until then! And give me a call if you need anything.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Tom said his goodbyes and disappeared into the crowd as he made his way toward the exit. By now, Patrick had also gotten his beer and gave me another cheer before walking over to the architects, two of whom were his classmates. I was alone with Alex once again and wondered why he was still here.

Doesn’t he want to go party with his friends?

“You seem to know everyone around here,” I said, taking a sip.

“Not everyone. But that could change.”

I creased my forehead in surprise. The guy really wore his heart on his sleeve.

He held his hands up, startled by his own words. “Sorry. No idea where that came from.” He tried to leave but seemed to struggle with walking away and leaving me by myself at the bar.

I chuckled and placed my empty glass back on the counter.

Maybe I can try something new tonight. He keeps giving me these sneaky glances …

“Do you like guys?” Once the words came out of my mouth, Alex nearly choked on his beer. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I ... uh ... yeah.”

“Nice,” I said, smiling. “Let’s get to know each other better.” He had no idea how much his value had just risen. Someone who looked so well-groomed and had such good manners almost inevitably had a clean apartment and a nice bed. He seemed a bit reserved, but that would surely change once I got my hands on him. That was the case with everyone.

“What? Are you sure? We’ve only known each other ... I don’t know, for five minutes? Although I feel like I’ve known you for weeks. But I could be some kind of freak.”

“Almost everyone here seems to know you. And they can see that I’m talking to you. You’d have to be a genius to cover up a murder on me.”

“Maybe I am.”

A spark lit up in his eyes, and he exuded so much confidence that for a brief moment, I was inclined to question my assessment of him. Maybe that was his sense of humor, and he was a good actor. “Disguised as a photographer that almost every architect here knows? Really good prerequisites for a murdering genius. I’ll get you.”

Alex laughed loudly, revealing his beautiful white teeth. “Oh yeah? And what tells you that I’m not a judo master?”

His contagious laughter made me grin, and I shook my head in amusement. “Well, then I guess I’ll have to come up with something.”

The man radiated a unique warmth. I hoped so much that he wasn’t naive because I’d be gone again with the rising sun. After all, I was only here for the bed. That’s why the attraction between us, seemingly within reach, irritated me all the more.

“Want another one?” Only when Claude took my empty glass and snapped me out of my thoughts did I notice the silence between Alex and me.

I cleared my throat, glanced at Claude, and then back at Alex. His glass was almost empty, and he shrugged.

I signaled to Claude that I didn’t want another one and shifted my gaze to Alex. “I’m Noé—if you care.”

Alex laughed again. “Do you think I’m one of those?”

“Who knows?”

“Don’t get me wrong, but I already knew your name.”

“How could I misunderstand that?”

“I’m not a stalker or anything.”

“Okay, I ...” Somehow, I was glad when he seemed a little unsure again.

“But it’s nice of you to introduce yourself.”

“Nice.” I let the word roll off my tongue and raised my eyebrows. “That’s just how I am,” I said in a monotone voice.

“Now you’re scaring me.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. It had been a while since flirting had been this much fun and felt so natural and honest to me. “You can still consider taking me home with you.” I kept to myself that I would have otherwise taken up Steffan’s offer.

“Aha, so we’re going to my place?”

“Exactly.”

“We could also go to your place.”

“No, can’t do, sorry.”

Alex stared into his almost empty glass and pondered. He took a tad too long for my liking. Additionally, he slightly pressed his beautiful lips together, weighing all the pros and cons of being with me. He then downed the beer in one swig, set the glass on the counter, and nodded.

“All right then, let’s go. Now.”

Surprised, I widened my eyes. “Now?”

“Yeah, otherwise, I might reconsider.”

“Okay, I’ll just grab my stuff real quick. Won’t take long.”

“I’ll wait here.”

He seemed so serious and determined—and older than I had previously estimated him to be. But only briefly. Before leaving him alone, that uncertainty resurfaced, and I was sure he couldn’t possibly be older than me. Twenty-three at most.

I retrieved the bass and cable from the stage, returned to the dressing room with them, and packed both into the case. I tied the black shirt around my hips and slipped into my denim jacket. I slung the bass over one shoulder and my backpack over the other. A quick glance in the mirror told me that not only was a shower overdue but also a shave.

Guess he’s into edgy guys.

When I returned to the bar, Alex was putting away his wallet and gave me a smile.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.”

I have to admit, I was a bit nervous. It had been a while since I'd tried something new with someone I'd just met. But Alex definitely seemed like the better choice compared to Steffan. And if I played my cards right, I might even gain a new place to stay for the winter; after all, anything was better than what I begrudgingly called home.

Without saying goodbye to the architects, we left the bar, took the elevator down the five floors, and stepped out into the night in Zurich. It was bustling at this hour. Moviegoers streamed out of the side entrances of the building, and people stood in front of the bars on the streets, sipping their drinks and chatting. It was a balmy night, and the partygoers were making the most of the last warm autumn evening.

“I live right around the corner here,” Alex said, pointing the way.

We crossed the street and headed to the other side of the Hard Bridge. People were lining up in front of Exil to get in, and there was also a lot going on in front of Schiffbau, an entertainment venue with a theater, club, and restaurant. We reached Turbinenplatz, and Alex headed for Puls 5. I looked skeptically at the huge building. The restaurants were already closed, and the building was deserted.

“Where do you live?” I dared to ask.

“Well, here,” he replied and led me inside the double doors and toward an elevator.

“Here?”

Whoever lives here must be rich. Can a photographer earn enough money to afford an apartment in Zurich’s industrial district?

I followed him hesitantly into the elevator and watched as he selected the top floor. We stood facing each other in silence, and I forced a smile.

What have I gotten myself into?