When I got to the bar for my shift later that afternoon, all by myself, I walked almost right into Jason after I stepped through the door. I was wondering who I would be working with, since Mike had the day off, and I couldn’t say I was excited about the fact I was going to be alone with Jason. Especially after my little romp with Mike the night before. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Jason, or that I thought he was nosy or anything like that, I just didn’t know how he would react if he found out that Mike and I were, well, whatever we were.

“Hey, how’s it going, new guy?” Jason asked, straightening his shirt from the impact we almost had.

“Can’t complain, how about you?” I asked. I didn’t know what else to say, and my usual skills of conversation seemed to flee me. Instead, all I felt was a surging panic, almost a kind of dread. What if he asked about Mike and me? What if he already knew? It was like a rat race, all these thoughts and questions rolling through my head, and I couldn’t turn them off. My biggest fear was that I would slip and say something, incriminate myself, and then it would all come unraveled before it’d even really begun.

“Yeah, I really can’t complain either,” he said with a smile. I wondered if he had also gotten lucky the night before, but then decided I didn’t want to know because it wasn’t any of my business.

“Have a good night?” I asked, winking at him suggestively to try and open up the conversation a little bit—and take the focus off me.

“Yeah, you could say that,” he said and went back to the bar to finish putting away the dishes he’d lugged out, presumably before I got there.

“So, what do you think of the job so far?” he asked as I used the touchscreen computer to punch in for the start of my shift.

“It’s pretty normal, to be honest,” I said. It wasn’t a lie, either. Of all the bartending jobs I’d had, this was one of the easier ones. Even on the days when we were swamped, which seemed to come and go, it wasn’t ever anything I felt like I couldn’t handle. In other words, it hadn't thrown any curveballs at me— except Mike.

“Good, I’m glad to hear it,” he said with a smile.

“But what’s with that guy named Harry?” I asked. Jason chuckled.

“That’s a damn good question, and something I’ve been wondering for pretty much my entire life. You know, my dad owned this bar before I did, before any of us did, and Harry has been coming here for as long as I can remember, even as a kid. There were nights when I was young where my dad would come home and complain about Harry, about how he was drinking us out of house and home. Some things don’t ever change down here in the south,” he said as he shook his head.

“Why don’t you just give him the boot then? I mean, he’s gotta be costing you more money than he’s making,” I said.

“Yeah, another damn good question. The problem with that is that if we started booting long termers, we’d be out of customers in a heartbeat. Word travels fast around these parts, you’ll learn that soon if you haven’t already,” he said, and my heart froze in my chest. Was he trying to imply something? Had he already heard about Mike and me? Had somebody seen us together at the gym and gone running to tell him?

“Do you guys gossip that much?” I asked. He burst out laughing.

“Are you kidding me? It’s practically a national sport down here,” he said. “Everybody knows everything about everyone else, and they all talk about each other behind their backs. Just be warned, if ever anybody tells you ‘bless your heart,’ that’s a surefire way of knowing that they’ve just been talking crap about you behind your back,” he continued.

“Duly noted,” I said. “Anyway, is there anything you want me to take care of before we open up?” I asked.

“No, it’s all pretty much ready to go, looks like you guys did a bang-up job of getting things ready for us before you went home last night. Thanks for that,” he said. Bang up job? Was he trying to make innuendos or was I reading too far into it? I couldn’t take much more of it either way.

“Not a problem, it makes all our lives easier, doesn’t it?” I asked.

“See, I knew I hired you for a reason. I like you; I hope you stick around for a while,” Jason said. I had every intention of doing that, but if things unraveled with Mike and me and cost me the job, I might have to leave sooner than I ever anticipated. Not that I thought that would happen, but there was always an outside chance—or my parents could demand I come back home, that I cost them more money being here than I would in Stockholm, to continue playing their prop at some red carpet rollout or something.

“I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me,” I said, and Jason smiled at me.

“You seem like you’re in an awfully good mood today,” he said, raising his eyebrows at me. Shit. Was this the beginning of the end?

“Why wouldn’t I happy? I’ve got pretty much everything going for me. I mean, other than living in a crappy small town like this,” I said with a smirk, trying to change the subject, keep the conversation light and away from my personal life.

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that too. What do you think about Beauclaire so far? It must be quite a bit different from where you’re from,” he said.

“Yeah, that’s an understatement. I’ve never felt more out of place in my life, and that’s coming from somebody whose rubbed shoulders with some of the richest and most powerful people in the world,” I said. It wasn’t untrue. My parents were chummy with some of the world’s most famous leaders, movie stars, politicians, you name it. I’d been to so many social events where I didn’t know how to behave or what to do that I’d lost count of them all. Still, even all those experiences paled in comparison to the fish out of water feeling I got being in a small southern town in the asshole of the United States.

“Yeah, I can imagine. People down here aren’t exactly open-minded, even about things that shouldn’t be controversial. I mean, it’s not like we’ve ever had any reason to mistrust the Swedes, right?” he asked.

“Not to my knowledge,” I said. “Anyway, do you mind if I take care of the kitchen tonight? I could use a break from people pleasing if that’s cool with you,” I said. It wasn’t untrue, I didn’t want to have to interact with more people that I needed to tonight, but more than that, I knew working in the kitchen would keep me away from Jason for the majority of the night—and away from any prying questions he might have.

“That’s fine with me. I hate being stuck back there in that grease pit, so have at it,” Jason said. “Besides, I like your initiative. Keep it up.”

“Yeah, will do,” I said, and with a wave, I disappeared into the kitchen to turn on the fryers and get them ready, in addition to getting the other food prepped. We didn’t serve much, which was a good thing, but the stuff we did serve still had to be cooked, so it needed to be thawed out and semi-prepared before we opened.

When I was sure I was alone, and that Jason wasn’t trying to eavesdrop or watch me behind my back, I let my guard down for just a moment. I slumped against the wall, let out a long exhale, and shook my head. What the hell was I doing? This was nuts, totally unlike me. I had done much more scandalous things than this before, the likes of which would be appropriate to share with anybody except for a licensed therapist, so why was I having so much anxiety about it?

Because there was a lot on the line. And not just for me personally, in regards to this job and the future of my trust fund, but also for Mike. It was hard to explain, and it was something I couldn’t say I’d ever felt before, but I wanted to keep seeing him, wanted to get to know him more, and I wanted him to like me. That was a silly thing to think, wanting somebody else to like me, but it was true.

I’d spent so much of my life trying to get everybody to approve of me, to look at me with something other than scorn or annoyance like my parents had for the majority of my life, that I didn’t know how to let people get close. It wasn’t an easy thing to do. Every time I’d tried, especially once people learned who I was and who I was related to, things changed. They no longer wanted to be with me because of me; they wanted to spend time with me because of what it might get them in return. Whether it was money, status, or connections, they were always after something, and that something was never me.

Mike was different, in a very big way. There was nothing fake or pretentious about him, which I could only assume was part of my attraction to him. Genuine was the only word I could use to describe him. He didn’t care that I burped in front of him, for instance, which I would never have dreamed of doing in front of any of my parents’ friends, or any of the people I’d dated in the past. But that was the key with Mike, that was what made things different—he wasn’t taking himself too seriously, nor did he take me too seriously.

I didn’t know what to make of that, didn’t know what to make of any of this swirling around in my head, but even as mixed up as I felt, I couldn’t stop the smile that appeared on my face as I thought of Mike, remembered the way that we’d fit together so perfectly the night before—and the incredible breakfast Mike had cooked for me this morning before work. Never in my life, aside from the nanny that my parents had hired when I was a kid, had I had someone cook for me before, especially when they just wanted to do it to be nice.

Sure, the meal wasn’t exactly artistic, but that was another thing I appreciated about Mike. He was down to earth, he wasn’t trying to be anyone or anything other than who he was, and that to me was the most appealing thing in the world.

It made me wonder if I was overreacting, or if maybe the reason I was so scared about other people finding out was that they might judge me for being with him, rather than what negative social or financial impact it might have on me. If my parents found out I was seeing an older country dude, one who probably didn’t know what the word class meant, much less embodied it, they’d have my head and write me out of their will before I could say anything to the contrary.

But I didn’t care. Part of the reason I was here in the first place was that they were ashamed of me, so after the stunt I’d pulled at Stockholm University, I didn’t think it was possible for me to appall them any more than I already had. Bringing home a farmhand would hardly be a surprise for them when it came to me and my past.

I’d just finished scraping out the fryer and changing the grease when the front door of the bar twinkled open, the bells alerting us all that somebody had stepped in. I glanced at the clock hanging on the wall above the fryers and realized that we weren’t supposed to be open for another ten minutes, so it had to have been one of the other employees. My heart started to pound my chest, and I prayed it wasn’t who I thought it was waiting for me outside, but when I peeked through the little hole cut into the wall, my heart dropped into my stomach like chicken into the grease.

There Mike stood, talking gleefully with Jason like he’d just gotten the news he’d won the lottery. His smile was bright, his body language screaming that he was in a great mood, and all I could think about was how everything was about to come undone. As much as I liked Mike, maybe even more than liked him, I didn’t fully trust his mouth. He had a habit of just saying things, firing off at the hip, and that could get us both in trouble. I had to talk to him, had to get him alone before he said something that we both ended up regretting.

I hung the fryer brush back up on its post on the wall, tossed my apron down on the counter, and stepped outside into the bar. Mike’s face lit up at the sight of me, and I knew right away he’d come just to talk to me—maybe even to torment me, watch me squirm—and it was obvious to me that Jason didn’t miss the connection. He looked from Mike to me and back again, and a giant smile formed on his face. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to spell it out, it was obvious to me he’d already put two and two together.

“Hey there newbie, how’s it going?” Mike asked, trying to pretend like we were still workplace enemies or something. “I can’t believe the fryer hasn’t scorched all your hair off yet, given how much gunk you put in it,” he said, and Jason chuckled.

“Very funny. What are you doing here on your day off, anyway? Don’t you have any other bars to hang out in and drink?” I asked. It was probably a little meaner than it needed to be, but I didn’t want to give Jason the wrong idea. A look flashed across Mike’s face, one I couldn’t understand or explain, but he looked hurt in a way like I’d gone too far.

“What, I can’t come and see some of my best friends in the world when I’m not working?” he asked, and the look on his face and disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. “It’s a free country, ain’t it?”

“Of course you can, you’re always welcome here, don’t let him get under your skin,” Jason said, patting Mike on the shoulder.

“That’s what I thought, besides, I was here first,” Mike said and stuck his tongue out at me. He literally stuck his tongue out me, like we were back in elementary school or something, and I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. It was just like him to do something silly like that.

“But I’m not trying to get in between you two rabble-rousers, so excuse me for a minute,” Jason said, and though I couldn’t see his full face, I could’ve sworn that he winked at Mike, like he already knew what was going on and was intentionally giving us time alone. When Jason disappeared into George’s office, I seized Mike by the arm and dragged him into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my heart hammering.

“I just came to see you, is that a crime?” he asked. “I thought you would’ve been happy to see me.”

“No, it’s not a crime, but it is reckless,” I said. “What if he already knows? What if he decides that we can’t work together because we’re working together between the sheets or something? What am I gonna do then?” I asked.

“Relax, you’re flippin’ the hell out over nothing. This ain’t a big deal, Jason’s cool about stuff like this, and besides, it would be pretty fucking hypocritical of him to come down on us when he and his fiancé are in the same damn boat.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just scared,” I said.

“Why? What the hell are you so afraid of?” Mike asked, fixing me with a quizzical stare. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I got the distinct impression he was implying I was embarrassed to be seen with him or something, which was not the case, but I couldn’t blame him for thinking that. It wasn’t like I’d been particularly open or given him anything else to go on, so it seemed like a logical conclusion for him.

“Don’t be like that, you know that’s not what I meant,” I said. “I don’t care what anyone here thinks about you and me, whatever we are now, but I do care about what Jason thinks. You don’t understand, Mike, I need to keep this job. It’s the only thing keeping me from falling off the edge.”

“What the hell does that mean? This is all news to me,” he said.

“Yeah, well, that’s because we haven’t talked about it so far. Look, I will fill you in, I promise I will, but not here, not now,” I said.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re about to tell me you don’t want to see me anymore?” he asked. “Was it because of last night? God dammit, I knew I shouldn’t have let that happen…”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all. Please, listen, I’m not trying to pull any funny business here. All I want is to be able to keep this job, so I don’t have to go back to Sweden with my tail between my legs groveling for money from my parents.” He shrugged and nodded like he at least somewhat understood, and I had to resist the urge to throw my arms around him. “What are you doing later? Can I come over? We can talk then.”

“You know I ain’t gonna be doing squat, and it ain’t like you don’t know where I live. I guess I’ll see ya then,” he said and snuck a quick kiss on my forehead. I prayed Jason hadn’t seen it, hadn’t been spying on us from some corner of the bar.

“Thank you, Mike,” I said. “I promise I’ll tell you everything.”

“Alright, I believe you. See ya later,” he said and left me standing alone in the kitchen with nothing but the sound of the grease popping and bubbling in the fryers.

I wanted to tell him everything—had to tell him everything—but I wasn’t sure if I could do it. What would he think of me when he found out why I’d been sent here from Sweden? Would everything we’d shared the night before get thrown out the window? Would he think I was using him? I hoped he wouldn’t think that, hoped he’d know I wasn’t that kind of person now that he’d gotten closer to me.

But there was only one way to find out.