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If Dan didn’t know any better (because Meital is not Facebook friends with Kevin or Timothy or Emily or any of his friends back home because none of his close friends back home are Jewish, and yes, that’s probably an issue, but it’s not something he wants to focus on right now), he’d think Kevin is behind this.
As it is, he stares blankly at Meital from across the table at the Aroma nearest her apartment. They’re both enjoying an Aroma Ice, because Tel Aviv in summer is fucking hot.
“What?”
Meital frowns. “I know I speak really good English. I said we’re going to a club tonight and you’re going to have sex with someone.”
Dan doesn’t tell her that he’s only actually had sex with one person. He doesn’t tell her he only just started to think maybe dating again might be a good idea. He doesn’t tell her the idea of casual sex kind of terrifies him. (It’s not the sex, so much; he thinks he can handle that. It’s the intimacy and nerves and – and what if he’s actually terrible in bed and Sam never told him?).
“I don’t really like clubs,” he says, because it’s the truth.
“This one is fun. You don’t even have to dance if you don’t want to; they have a bar area and it’s open so you get fresh air!” She takes a big long sip of her Aroma Ice. “It’ll be fun. My friends and I will even speak English so you don’t feel left out.”
It’s obvious that Meital isn’t going to take no for an answer. So he relents. “Fine. But I’m going to leave early if I’m not having a good time.”
“That’s fine,” Meital says. “I’ll pick you up at eleven.”
Dan doesn’t like clubs, but he knows how to dress for one. Even in the unbearably hot Tel Aviv summer. Meital, true to her word (and a Jewish understanding of time), picks him up with a gaggle of girls around eleven-thirty.
She looks him over and gives him an approving nod. “Very nice! You clean up well!”
“You’re the one who wants me to pull a guy at this club.”
“And looking like that, you will,” she says. She ushers him along, and they walk as a group to the club. Dan’s been in Tel Aviv for a week, and he remembers enough from Birthright (and a congregational trip two summers later) to know that even in Tel Aviv, the public transportation isn’t great.
He guesses it makes sense. It’s easier to repair a street after a bomb than a subway.
But he’s not really thinking about bombs or danger as he follows Meital and her friends to the club. He’s not thinking about Sam, his ex, either, which is a marked improvement.
He’s thinking about how badly he does not want to fuck some random stranger he met in a club.
To their credit, Meital and her friends are speaking English, and asking him questions and trying to make him feel included.
If that were all the night was supposed to be - having some drinks with a friend from Birthright and all her friends, maybe dancing a little once he’d drunk enough - he thinks he’d have a good time.
He doesn’t even know how to talk to men.
He met Sam only after Timothy dragged him to a HAVEN meeting in the middle of their freshman year. Timothy was only too eager to serve as wingman.
Timothy has always been a world-class meddler. Dan was grateful for it then.
Even now, he doesn’t regret dating Sam, not really. He just wishes they’d broken up months earlier, and that he’d never made such a display of being so insufferably clingy.
There’s something wrong with him.
He knows lots of gay and bi men, and even the ones he knows in committed monogamous relationships aren’t half as clingy and pathetic as he is. He should be able to just get over himself, find some gorgeous guy who wants to fuck him, and let him do it.
Meital seems to notice he’s out of it, because she touches his arm and gives him a look.
“I’m fine,” he assures her. “It’s just been a while since I’ve been to a club.”
He’s been to exactly two clubs in his life: once with Timothy and Kevin, and once with Sam. He hadn’t liked it either time.
“Like I promised, you can leave after a few hours if you’re not having fun. But first, we need to start drinking.” She rifles through her bag and hands him a bottle of water. “Here.”
“I don’t think I need water. It’s not that hot.”
Meital smiles. “It’s not water. It’s vodka.”
Well, then, in that case.
In the club, one of Meital’s friends – Galit, Dan thinks her name is — gets table service, and it’s vodka all around. Meital gets shots of something else for everyone, and by all accounts, he’s pretty fucking drunk (and having a good time; is that the secret for clubs?) by the time he goes up to get himself a Cosmo from the bar, he finds that his equilibrium is off.
He makes it to the bar just fine - too drunk to think that drinking more might not be a good idea - and after he orders his drink, he finds himself approached by a sweaty, gorgeous guy with wavy brown hair and the most intense dark brown eyes Dan’s ever seen. He’s a few inches shorter than Dan, and broader.
Dan is a disaster around attractive men, and the man in front of him is extremely attractive.
The man leans in and says something in Hebrew in Dan’s ear. It sounds rough and rhythmic and Dan has no idea what he’s saying.
“Sorry, I don’t speak Hebrew,” Dan says.
The other guy leans back in surprise. “You’re American.” His accent doesn’t sound Israeli, either, but Dan’s a bit too drunk to place it.
It’s not a question, but Dan says, “Yeah.”
“Birthright?”
Dan shakes his head. “Did that already.” With his ex-boyfriend, but it was best not to dwell on that.
“Well,” the guy says. He licks his lips. “What I said was I’m going home with you.”
Oh.
Dan has never had anything like this happen before. He’s never had a man come on to him like this. Especially not a man this gorgeous.
It’s hot.
The accent certainly doesn’t hurt.
“Okay,” he says.
“Okay?”
“Okay. Let me finish my drink and let’s go.” It hits him that he should probably know this random guy’s name. “I’m Dan.”
“Isaac,” he says.