Chapter 22 – Into the Night
The second night in San Francisco began with dinner.
They chose a small Italian place tucked down a narrow street, the kind of restaurant where candles burned in dark glass jars on every table and the air smelled of garlic and basil. The clink of cutlery and the low hum of voices filled the space, but for Evan and Matt, the world narrowed to their booth in the corner.
Matt sat close, their knees brushing beneath the table. It was subtle, hidden in the shadows, but Evan felt every point of contact like a live wire. They drank wine, too much and too fast, laughter slipping easier with each glass. Matt teased him about the way he twirled pasta on his fork, Evan fired back about Matt mangling his bread roll like he was in a mess hall. It was easy, warm, the kind of night that felt like it belonged only to them.
After dinner they wandered the streets, the city alive with summer energy. Neon buzzed above crowded sidewalks, music leaked from open doors, and couples drifted past in every direction. Evan felt exposed and anonymous at the same time, and for once, anonymity was a gift.
Matt stopped suddenly outside a bar with rainbow lights strung across the entrance. The music was low but pulsing, bass thumping through the pavement. The sign above the door left no question what kind of place it was.
Evan hesitated. “You sure?”
Matt’s grin was lopsided, playful, but his eyes were steady. “Why not? Nobody here knows us. Feels like the kind of night to try.”
Inside, the bar was dim, crowded, alive. Men and women danced under colored lights, bodies moving close, laughter spilling in waves. The air smelled of sweat, citrus, and something sweet from the bar. For the first time, Evan didn’t feel like they had to hide.
They found a corner near the back, nursing drinks while watching the crowd. A couple kissed openly by the bar, two men slow-dancing near the jukebox, hands low on each other’s backs. Evan felt Matt’s hand slide over his own, resting casually on the table, and he didn’t pull away.
“You ever think we’d end up somewhere like this?” Matt asked, his voice pitched low, almost lost under the music.
“Never,” Evan admitted, eyes fixed on their joined hands. “But I’m glad we did.”
The night stretched out around them, filled with possibility. They didn’t dance, not yet, but they stayed until the bar thinned, until the streets outside were quieter, until their bodies hummed with alcohol and the weight of promises unsaid.
By the time they returned to the hotel, the air between them was thick with anticipation.
The second night in San Francisco began with dinner.
They chose a small Italian place tucked down a narrow street, the kind of restaurant where candles burned in dark glass jars on every table and the air smelled of garlic and basil. The clink of cutlery and the low hum of voices filled the space, but for Evan and Matt, the world narrowed to their booth in the corner.
Matt sat close, their knees brushing beneath the table. It was subtle, hidden in the shadows, but Evan felt every point of contact like a live wire. They drank wine, too much and too fast, laughter slipping easier with each glass. Matt teased him about the way he twirled pasta on his fork, Evan fired back about Matt mangling his bread roll like he was in a mess hall. It was easy, warm, the kind of night that felt like it belonged only to them.
After dinner they wandered the streets, the city alive with summer energy. Neon buzzed above crowded sidewalks, music leaked from open doors, and couples drifted past in every direction. Evan felt exposed and anonymous at the same time, and for once, anonymity was a gift.
Matt stopped suddenly outside a bar with rainbow lights strung across the entrance. The music was low but pulsing, bass thumping through the pavement. The sign above the door left no question what kind of place it was.
Evan hesitated. “You sure?”
Matt’s grin was lopsided, playful, but his eyes were steady. “Why not? Nobody here knows us. Feels like the kind of night to try.”
Inside, the bar was dim, crowded, alive. Men and women danced under colored lights, bodies moving close, laughter spilling in waves. The air smelled of sweat, citrus, and something sweet from the bar. For the first time, Evan didn’t feel like they had to hide.
They found a corner near the back, nursing drinks while watching the crowd. A couple kissed openly by the bar, two men slow-dancing near the jukebox, hands low on each other’s backs. Evan felt Matt’s hand slide over his own, resting casually on the table, and he didn’t pull away.
“You ever think we’d end up somewhere like this?” Matt asked, his voice pitched low, almost lost under the music.
“Never,” Evan admitted, eyes fixed on their joined hands. “But I’m glad we did.”
The night stretched out around them, filled with possibility. They didn’t dance, not yet, but they stayed until the bar thinned, until the streets outside were quieter, until their bodies hummed with alcohol and the weight of promises unsaid.
By the time they returned to the hotel, the air between them was thick with anticipation.
