Rhys peeled off the sock his foot, grimacing at the blister on the back of his heel. He’d never gone further than a mile in his casual sneakers, and they were beginning to literally wear him down.

In Tallahassee, he’d always relied on public transportation. Even though the busses were unreliable, he never had far to go. Without his red Impala, he was stuck walking throughout Hidden Creek. He couldn’t afford to taxi everywhere, those would only be for emergencies.

Rhys had felt the beginnings of his blister developing just after four o’clock. He’d limped his way to the nearest drug store, who’d shown him a wide range of Band-Aids. He’d settled on a large silicone gel Band-Aid, designed specifically for blisters.

The sting of his blister was so severe he’d barely made it to the bench in Moore Wood, just across the street from the shop.

Rhys rubbed the thick gel Band-Aid onto the back of his heel, the silicone hugging his tender skin. He slid his sock, then sneaker back on, the silicone protecting him from any rubbing.

He’d spent the whole day wandering around the town, going from business to business, asking if he could put pamphlets for Mason’s Body Shop in their store. He’d done some cold calling before during his business major. Ringing up companies out of the blue to offer them a product or service. Handing out fliers in the street.

In Florida, he’d been given the cold shoulder, or a hostile dressing down, more than one time. Once more the town of Hidden Creek had surprised him. More than half had enthusiastically agreed to display his pamphlets. The owner of the local coffee shop, Doris, has been oddly delighted at the idea. Even those that didn’t had been kind in their decline. Rhys wondered if he was just used to the harsh rudeness of Tallahassee or was Hidden Creek just that bit nicer than most towns in America?

As Rhys was double-checking where to head next, the phone in his hand began to ring. He knew it was his parents immediately. Everyone else he knew always texted him.

“Hi, Dad, how’s it going?” Rhys hoped they had stopped worrying about his stay in Hidden Creek. He’d been sending them updates and pictures on the family WhatsApp chat.

“Hi, Rhys, your mom is also on the call. We’re on speaker phone!” his dad proudly declared.

“Hi, sweetie!” his mom called out to him.

“Hi, Mom.”

“We saw what you did to the front of Mason’s shop. Great going there, champ!” his dad enthused. “I emailed it to the Stewarts next door. You remember them?”

“Yeah, Dad, I remember the Stewarts.” They had been their next-door neighbors ever since Rhys could remember.

“I think their youngest, Michelle, still has a crush on you,” his dad reminded him with a chuckle.

“Not surprising. You’re a very handsome young man,” his mom said. Rhys could practically hear her nodding along.

“They thought you’d done a great job with the place!” his dad said. “Looks like my boy really does have some DIY gumption after all.”

“Tell him about the second store,” his mom chided his dad.

“I’m getting to it, Beth. I’m getting to it.”

Rhys felt his stomach drop. He’d tried his best to push any thoughts of his assistant-manager job away, instead taking in as much of Hidden Creek as he could.

“Look, we saw what you did with the flowers and the tires,” his dad said. “You don’t need a fancy degree to know that was impressive. We think you should help design the exterior of the new shop and help year round with the seasonal displays.”

Rhys sat up on the park bench, thrilled by the news.

“Isn’t that great?” his mom asked excitedly.

“Mom, Dad — that’s amazing!” Rhys said. Sure, Rhys wasn’t too concerned about hardware supplies, but he’d be able to use his creative flair every now and then.

“Honey, you still there?” his mom asked.

“Yeah. Whoa. That sounds brilliant!” Rhys jumped up from the bench. As he paced back and forth on the path, he could feel his silicone Band-Aid protecting his blister. “I could do something nice on the outside, like flowers in old toolboxes or something…” Rhys knew that wouldn’t quite fit the business, but he was in the ballpark.

“We got lots of time to think it through, Rhys,” his dad told him. “Glad to hear you’re excited about it.”

“Well, we don’t want to keep you,” his mom affirmed. “Oh, we transferred thirty dollars to your account, just to help you along!”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.” As Rhys said it, he also felt his chest lift a small amount. It took the pressure off his stay, just a little.

“Okay, love you, bye!” his mom signed off.

“Love you!” his dad chimed in.

“Yep, love you, guys. See you in a week.” Rhys hung up, breathing in the crisp and slightly warm air of the Texan park.

Maybe his job back home wouldn’t be all doom and gloom. He could design the outside, and then…

Rhys frowned. After that, what else would he be doing that would truly make him happy?

He pushed the thoughts aside, double-checking the maps app on his phone. He grabbed his bag from the bench and began making his way over to Phoenix, the only gay bar in Hidden Creek.

According to the local news that popped up, Phoenix had gone through a recent redesign as well. After a fire a few months ago, the owners had changed hands, and they had rebranded with a kitchen, event nights, and a more diverse evenings than most gay bars. Lesbian nights, trans events, even a twice-monthly ‘queers without beers’ function.

Rhys found Phoenix on the corner of an intersection, a large pride flag hanging out next to the Texan one. As Rhys entered through the heavy wooden double doors, he was greeted by synth pop music. A poster on the wall told him it was ‘80s night, 1^st Monday every month.’

Rhys approached the bar, impressed by the mural behind the bartender. A beautiful phoenix, rising up from the flames. It made Rhys feel oddly invested in the bar. Like most of its patrons, it looked like the phoenix had been through some rough times but had come through transformed into something magnificent.

The bartender turned around, a gorgeously petite yet toned man. His hair was blond with stylish purple tips, and as he made firm eye contact with Rhys, his silvery-gray eyes glimmered in the bar lights. He was also dressed from head to toe in bright neon colors. Hot pink shorts, bright blue crop top that showed off one of his shoulders. And as Rhys took a seat, he noted the neon-green leg warmers.

“Well, howdy, handsome stranger. What can I getcha?” His bubbly enthusiasm was infectious. Rhys looked at the clock on the wall. Quarter to five. Close enough to five o’clock.

Rhys breathed in deep. Even though he’d practiced talking to lots of strangers today, he still felt nervous talking to the bartender.

“Do you do any cocktails?” A lot of the Tallahassee college bars didn’t bother mixing drinks, finding it more cost effective to just pour beer from the tap.

“That we do, but before you see a menu, I’ll need to see some ID,” the bartender kindly explained.

“Oh yeah, no problem.” Rhys fumbled for his wallet, handing over his driver’s license.

“Utah? What brings you this deep into the South?” The bartender handed Rhys his license back.

“I was picking up my grandpa’s old car to drive home when it broke down,” Rhys explained.

“Oh gosh, that don’t sound good.”

“Luckily, Mason pulled up straight away with his tow truck. Got me back to his garage and has already ordered the part we need.” Rhys had gotten used to summarizing his story as effectively as possible over the last few days. And he found delivering a prepared statement less scary than just talking on the fly.

“Mason, now why does that name sound so darn familiar?” The bartender wondered out loud as he handed Rhys a menu. Rhys saw that one side had alcoholic drinks, the other food to order. Much more than he would have thought for a bar of this size. Onion rings, burgers, nachos, all the carbs a drunk person could need.

“He owns Mason’s Body Shop. You might have heard about the new look on the outside.” Rhys pulled one of the pamphlets out of his bag, sliding it over to the bartender.

“Oh, the garage with the fancy flowers on the outside.” The bartender nodded as he looked over the pamphlet. Rhys smiled, happy that a random customer had described Mason’s Body Shop almost exactly like he said they would. “You two in the business together?”

“I’m just passing through,” Rhys explained, hearing the twinge of sadness in his voice. Which was silly. He had a great job waiting for him back home. Right? “Would it be possible for me to leave some of these here?”

“Of course, I’ll put them by the bulletin board,” the bartender said, taking a pile from Rhys’s hand. “A little birdie told me you put up all these pretty flowers, right?”

Rhys tried not to blush. It was no big deal, after all. “Yeah. I mean, he’s letting me live with him for free, so the least I could do was spruce up the place,”

“Ain’t that the truth.” The bartender nodded as if he somehow knew exactly what Rhys was going through. “I’m Kris, by the way.”

“Rhys,” he replied. “And I think I’ll start with a cosmopolitan.”

Kris grabbed a bottle of Absolut Citron from the display behind and began mixing.

“So, this Mason. Would I have seen him in here before?” Kris probed.

Rhys sighed ruefully. “Unfortunately not. He’s definitely straight,” Rhys answered.

Kris slid the cosmopolitan to him. “Are you one hundred percent sure?”

Rhys looked up at Kris hopefully, the bartender winking back at him.

“You think that over while you drink that down. It’s on the house.” Kris flitted away, Rhys staring at his pink drink. He almost felt guilty about accepting the drink, another gift from a Hidden Creek business.

But his mind kept on drifting back to Kris’s question.

Mason was made of muscles but hadn’t had a girlfriend since coming back to Hidden Creek. He was an LGBTQ+ ally. Did that mean he was open to more?

Rhys took a large gulp from his cocktail. Could he dare to hope?

The hug between them outside his store had been intense. Rhys knew he hadn’t imagined that. Was Mason only thankful, or was there something more to it? Maybe something Mason didn’t even know about himself yet.

Rhys had tried all weekend to ignore his schoolboy crush. Try and focus on their friendship.

That was why he’d spent all day pounding the streets of Hidden Creek, promoting Mason’s Body Shop. Just for friendship. Absolutely nothing else…

Rhys shook his head, partly from his dangerously hopeful thoughts, partly from the alcohol hitting his system.

Mason wasn’t gay. Mason didn’t act gay.

Rhys cocked his head at his last thought, picking it apart. That was really stereotypical of him. There was no one way for gay people to act. That was one of the main reasons he’d struggled so much at college, since he hadn’t acted or looked ‘gay’ enough for his peers.

But not acting straight didn’t mean that he was gay. The absence of something wasn’t the proof of something else. Rhys nodded at his own deduction as he finished his first cosmopolitan of the night.

Thanks to his parents, he could afford a second cocktail. Maybe even a third.

As Kris mixed him up another cosmo, Rhys also realized this wasn’t a binary problem. The only options weren’t straight or gay.

Maybe Mason was bisexual? Or pansexual. He could be asexual, but romantically interested. There were a million different ways that Mason could be attracted to him.

All Rhys knew for sure was that he would need a lot more drinks to figure it out.