What Happens in Vegas: A Bachelor Party Romance

The thing about bachelor parties in Las Vegas is that everyone expects you to do something stupid.

Connor Walsh had been banking on that. He was the best man. His best friend since kindergarten, Danny, was getting married in two weeks. And Connor had a secret he had been carrying for twenty-three years that was getting harder to keep buried.

The plan was simple. Get drunk. Play blackjack. Go to a strip club because that's what guys did at bachelor parties. Pretend to be interested. Go back to the hotel. Survive.

The plan lasted approximately four hours.

They arrived Friday afternoon, eight guys in matching T-shirts that said "Danny's Last Ride" which Connor had vetoed and been outvoted on. The hotel was ridiculous, all gold and marble and slot machines that started calling your name the moment you walked through the door. Connor could feel his wallet shrinking already.

"Drinks first," Danny announced. "I want to be drunk enough to make bad decisions but not so drunk I can't remember them."

"That's a very specific level of drunk," said Mike, one of the groomsmen.

"I've been perfecting it for years."

They found a bar near the casino floor. Connor ordered whiskey. Then another whiskey. Then a third, because the noise and the lights and the proximity to so many people were making his skin crawl.

"Easy there," Danny said, sliding onto the stool next to him. "We've got all weekend."

"Just getting warmed up."

"You okay? You seem tense."

Connor forced a smile. "I'm fine. Just making sure you have the time of your life."

"You're the best man. You're supposed to be having the time of your life too."

"I will. Promise."

Danny studied him for a moment, that knowing look he had had since they were kids. The one that said he saw through Connor's bullshit even when Connor did not want him to.

"If you need to talk about anything," Danny said carefully, "I'm here. Even this weekend. Especially this weekend."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Okay. But the offer stands."

Danny rejoined the group, and Connor finished his whiskey. He knew Danny suspected. Had probably known for years, the same way Connor had known. But saying it out loud made it real, and real meant consequences, and consequences meant his carefully constructed life might collapse.

He was thirty-two. He had dated women. Slept with women. Almost gotten engaged to a woman once, before she ended it because she said he was never fully present with her. He had told himself he was just bad at relationships.

But here, in Las Vegas, surrounded by flashing lights and strangers and the promise of anonymity, the truth was harder to ignore.

"I'm going to walk around," Connor told the group. "Check out the casino."

"Don't lose too much money," Danny called after him.

Connor wandered. Past the slot machines and the poker tables and the roulette wheels. Past tourists in fanny packs and high rollers in expensive suits and bachelorette parties in matching pink. He ended up at a smaller bar on the edge of the casino, quieter than the others, populated by people who seemed to be there alone.

He ordered another whiskey. The bartender, a woman with kind eyes and silver hair, poured it without comment.

"Mind if I sit?"

Connor turned. The man standing next to him was tall, maybe six feet, with dark wavy hair and the kind of face that belonged in magazines. He wore a simple black shirt and jeans, nothing flashy, but everything about him suggested he knew exactly how good he looked.

"Go ahead."

The man sat. Ordered a gin and tonic. Glanced at Connor with a half-smile.

"Bachelor party?"

"How did you know?"

"The shirt."

Connor looked down at his "Danny's Last Ride" shirt and laughed despite himself. "Yeah. My best friend's getting married."

"Congratulations to him. Where's the rest of the party?"

"Out there somewhere. I needed a break."

"From the party or from yourself?"

The question was sharper than expected. Connor met the man's eyes and found something there that made his chest tight.

"Both, maybe."

"I'm Julian." He extended a hand.

"Connor."

Julian's handshake was firm, his palm warm. He held on for a beat longer than necessary.

"So, Connor. What brings you to the quiet bar while your friends are out there living it up?"

"I'm not really a living-it-up kind of guy."

"No? What kind of guy are you?"

Connor considered the question. "I don't know. The kind who does what he's supposed to do, I guess. The kind who shows up to bachelor parties and pretends to have fun."

"Pretends?"

"Yeah. Pretends."

Julian sipped his drink, watching Connor over the rim of the glass. "You're honest. I like that."

"I'm drunk."

"Also honest."

Connor laughed. It felt good. Real, in a way his interactions usually did not.

"What about you? What brings you to Vegas?"

"Work. I'm a photographer. There's a convention this weekend."

"A photography convention in Las Vegas. That seems incongruous."

"It's actually perfect. This city is all about surfaces and illusions. What better place to study the nature of image?"

"That's very philosophical for a Friday night."

"I'm a philosophical guy." Julian smiled, and Connor felt something shift in his chest. "Can I ask you something personal?"

"You can ask."

"Are you out?"

The question hit Connor like a punch. He stared at Julian, frozen.

"I'm sorry," Julian said quickly. "That was presumptuous. I just... I'm usually pretty good at reading people, and something about the way you're sitting here alone at a gay-friendly bar made me think—"

"This is a gay-friendly bar?"

Julian's expression flickered. "You didn't know."

"No. I didn't."

Silence stretched between them. Connor's heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat.

"I should go," Julian said, starting to stand. "I apologize for making assumptions—"

"Don't go."

Julian paused.

"I'm not out," Connor said, the words rough. "I've never... I've never done anything about it. But you weren't wrong. About what you were reading."

Julian sat back down slowly. "Never?"

"Never. I'm thirty-two years old and I've spent my entire life pretending to be something I'm not. And I'm exhausted."

"Why here? Why now?"

"Because I'm in Las Vegas and nobody knows me and I have this weekend to figure out who the hell I actually am before I go back to my life and keep pretending."

Julian was quiet for a moment. "That's a lot of pressure to put on a weekend."

"I know. I don't even know what I want. I just know I can't keep living like this."

"What would help?"

Connor looked at him. Really looked. At the sharp lines of his jaw and the warmth in his dark eyes and the way he was sitting there, patient and present, like he had all the time in the world.

"Talking to someone who understands," Connor said. "Someone who's been where I am."

"I've been where you are. I came out at twenty-six, after five years of telling myself it was a phase."

"How did you know it wasn't?"

"Because phases end. This never did. Every time I thought I was over it, I'd see a guy who made my heart race and I'd realize I was just lying to myself."

"What happened when you came out?"

"Some people surprised me in good ways. Some people disappointed me. I lost a few friends. I gained others. My family struggled at first but came around eventually." Julian shrugged. "It was hard. But it was also the first time I felt like myself."

"And now?"

"Now I photograph beautiful things for a living and I date who I want and I'm sitting in a bar in Vegas talking to a gorgeous man who just realized something important about himself."

Connor's face heated. "You think I'm gorgeous?"

"I think you're a lot of things. Gorgeous is one of them."

The air between them felt charged. Connor was aware of how close they were sitting, of the way Julian's knee was almost touching his, of the possibilities suddenly unfolding in front of him.

"I don't know how to do this," Connor admitted.

"Do what?"

"Any of it. Flirt with men. Date men. Be with men."

"There's no manual. You just... do what feels right." Julian tilted his head. "What feels right to you, right now?"

"Staying here. Talking to you."

"Then stay. Talk to me."

They talked for hours. Julian told him about his work, the exhibitions he had been in, the celebrity portraits that paid the bills, the personal projects that fed his soul. Connor talked about his job in finance, his family's expectations, the engagement that almost happened, the years of wondering what was wrong with him.

"There's nothing wrong with you," Julian said firmly. "You just need permission to be who you are."

"From who?"

"From yourself. That's the only permission that matters."

By the time Connor checked his phone, it was past midnight and he had seventeen missed messages from the bachelor party group chat.

"I should probably check in with them."

"Probably." Julian paused. "Do you want to?"

"No. But Danny's my best friend. He'll worry."

"Then check in. I'll be here."

Connor stepped away to text Danny. Said he met someone. Said he was fine. Said he'd catch up with them tomorrow. Danny's response was a single emoji: a rainbow flag.

He knew. Of course he knew.

When Connor returned to the bar, Julian was watching him with an expression that made his stomach flip.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Better than okay, actually."

"What do you want to do now?"

Connor's heart was racing. "I want... I want to know what it feels like."

"What what feels like?"

"Being with someone. A man. Doing what I've been denying myself my whole life."

Julian's eyes darkened. "Connor. I need you to be sure about this. I don't want to be someone's experiment."

"You wouldn't be an experiment. You'd be... a beginning. If that's okay with you."

For a long moment, Julian just looked at him. Then he stood, held out his hand.

"Come with me."

Julian's hotel room was on the 23rd floor, a corner suite with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Strip. The lights of the city glittered below them like fallen stars.

Connor stood by the window, suddenly nervous in a way he had not been at the bar.

"We don't have to do anything," Julian said from across the room. "We can just talk. Watch a movie. Whatever you need."

"I know. I want to. I'm just..."

"Scared?"

"Terrified."

Julian crossed to him. Took his face in both hands. His touch was gentle but certain.

"We go at your pace. You say stop, we stop. You say slow down, we slow down. You're in control."

"I don't feel in control. I feel like I'm about to jump off a cliff."

"Then jump. I'll catch you."

Connor kissed him.

It was nothing like kissing women. It was harder, for one thing. Julian's jaw was rough with stubble. His mouth was insistent, confident, like he knew exactly what he was doing. Connor made a sound that surprised him, somewhere between a gasp and a moan, and Julian deepened the kiss in response.

They migrated to the bed without Connor quite knowing how. Julian laid him down, hovered over him, looked at him with an intensity that made Connor's breath catch.

"You're beautiful," Julian said. "I want you to know that."

"I'm not—"

"You are. And I'm going to show you."

What followed was unlike anything Connor had experienced. Julian took his time, exploring Connor's body like it was something precious. He asked permission before every new touch, narrated what he was doing, checked in constantly.

When Julian finally touched him, really touched him, Connor nearly came apart.

"Easy," Julian murmured. "We've got all night."

"I don't think I can last all night."

"Then don't. Let go."

Connor let go. He came with Julian's hand on him and Julian's mouth on his neck and the lights of Las Vegas sparkling beyond the window. And when he came back to himself, gasping and overwhelmed and trembling, Julian was there, holding him, grounding him.

"You okay?"

"I'm... I don't know what I am."

"That's okay. You don't have to know."

They lay there for a while, tangled together, Connor processing what had just happened. He felt cracked open in a way that was terrifying and liberating at the same time.

"I want to do something for you," he said eventually.

"You don't have to."

"I want to. Tell me what you like."

Julian told him. Showed him. Guided him with patience and encouragement until Connor found his rhythm. And when Julian finally came, Connor's name on his lips, Connor felt a surge of pride he had never experienced before.

This was who he was. This was what he wanted. And it felt right in a way nothing else ever had.

They did not sleep much that night. They talked. They touched. They explored each other with the desperate urgency of people who knew their time was limited.

At some point, Julian asked about the bachelor party. About Danny. About what Connor was going back to.

"I don't know," Connor admitted. "I've been hiding for so long, I don't know how to stop."

"You don't have to figure it out tonight."

"But I need to figure it out eventually. I can't keep living a lie."

"No," Julian agreed. "You can't. But figuring out who you are is a process. Tonight was a step. Tomorrow will be another one. You don't have to have all the answers right now."

"What happens after this weekend?"

Julian was quiet for a moment. "I live in LA. You live in..."

"Chicago."

"Chicago. That's not exactly close."

"No."

"But it's also not impossible. If you wanted to stay in touch."

Connor turned to look at him. "You'd want that?"

"I'd want to know how your story continues. And maybe... maybe this doesn't have to be a one-time thing."

"Julian. I just came out to myself twelve hours ago. I'm not in any position to start a relationship."

"I know. I'm not asking for a relationship. I'm asking for a chance to get to know you better. The real you. Whoever that turns out to be."

Connor kissed him, soft and slow.

"I'd like that. I'd like that a lot."

The next morning, Connor found Danny at the breakfast buffet, nursing coffee and looking hungover.

"There you are." Danny's tone was casual, but his eyes were searching. "Good night?"

Connor sat across from him. "The best night of my life, actually."

Danny set down his coffee. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I met someone. A man. And I... we..."

"You don't have to explain."

"I know. But I want to. I've been hiding from you, from everyone, for years. And I'm done."

Danny was quiet for a moment. Then he reached across the table and squeezed Connor's hand.

"I've known since we were fourteen. When you couldn't stop staring at that lifeguard at summer camp."

Connor laughed, half-sob, half-relief. "I thought I was being so subtle."

"You weren't. But I figured you'd tell me when you were ready." Danny smiled. "I'm glad you're ready."

"I'm terrified."

"I know. But you're also the bravest person I know. And whoever this guy is, he's lucky."

"It's complicated. He lives in LA."

"So?"

"So I live in Chicago."

"So you get on a plane." Danny shrugged. "Love is complicated. That doesn't mean it's not worth pursuing."

"I didn't say anything about love."

"You didn't have to. I've never seen you look like this. Like something inside you finally woke up."

Connor thought about Julian. About the way he had looked at Connor like he was something precious. About the way he had held Connor through the trembling aftermath. About the possibility of something more.

"I'm going to see him again," Connor said. "Before we leave."

"Then go. I'll cover for you with the group."

"You're the one getting married. You shouldn't have to cover for me."

"That's what best friends are for." Danny grinned. "Now go. And maybe get some sleep at some point. You look like hell."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Connor found Julian at the photography convention, surrounded by cameras and lighting equipment and people who clearly knew him.

"Sorry to interrupt," Connor said, suddenly nervous.

Julian's face lit up. "Connor. Give me five minutes."

He watched Julian wrap up his conversation, watched the easy way he moved through the crowd, watched the way people responded to him. This man who had seen Connor at his most vulnerable and treated him with kindness.

"You came," Julian said when he finally broke free.

"I came."

"I thought I might not see you again."

"I told Danny. About last night. About... everything."

Julian's expression softened. "How did he take it?"

"Better than I could have hoped. He said he's known since we were fourteen."

"Best friends have a way of seeing us."

"Yeah." Connor took a breath. "I know I said I wasn't ready for a relationship. And I'm still not, not really. But I don't want last night to be the end. I don't want to go back to Chicago and pretend none of this happened."

"What do you want?"

"I want to figure out who I am. And I want you to be part of that process. If you're willing."

Julian stepped closer, close enough that Connor could feel the heat of him.

"I'm willing. More than willing."

"It won't be easy. The distance. Me figuring my shit out."

"Nothing worth having is easy." Julian smiled. "But I think we could be worth it. Don't you?"

Connor kissed him, right there in the convention hall with people watching. He did not care. For the first time in his life, he did not care what anyone thought.

"I think we could be," he said. "I really think we could be."

Six months later, Connor moved to Los Angeles.

Not for Julian, exactly. For himself. For the chance to start over in a place where no one had any expectations of who he was supposed to be.

But Julian was part of it. Julian, who called him every night for six months while Connor went through the terrifying process of coming out to his family, his coworkers, his world. Julian, who flew to Chicago twice to hold Connor through the hard parts. Julian, who never pushed but was always there.

The apartment Connor rented was ten minutes from Julian's studio. They were taking things slow, building something real, learning each other outside the fevered intensity of a Vegas weekend.

"I still can't believe I met you in a gay bar I didn't even know was a gay bar," Connor said one evening, curled against Julian on his couch.

"The universe has a sense of humor."

"Apparently." Connor kissed his shoulder. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For seeing me. For being patient. For that night."

"That night was just the beginning."

"I know. That's what I'm thanking you for. For making me believe in beginnings."

Julian pulled him closer, pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Here's to beginnings, then. And to everything that comes after."

Connor smiled against his skin.

He had gone to Vegas for a bachelor party and come home with something far more valuable. Not just Julian. Not just a relationship. But himself.

The real him. The one who had been waiting all along.

What happened in Vegas, it turned out, was just the start of the story.

The rest of it? That was still being written.

And Connor could not wait to see how it ended.