Pylar was never one to buy into the whole energies and auras nonsense, but he was quickly changing his mind...or there was a chance he might just be going crazy. He could feel the subtle pull and pulse radiating from everyone he passed by. But there was a signature... something coming from the pastor both last night and right now that made him unmistakable. On the plus side, it made him that much easier to keep track of as the streets around them began to fill with people. Tight knots twisted in his stomach. A hollow, empty, hungry feeling...

The man walked a couple blocks down until he reached the Drug Store on the corner and slipped inside. Pylar gave it a couple of seconds, hanging out a little bit longer before going in. He was immediately greeted by the woman working the register. Keeping his head low, he muttered thank you and turned down one of the nearest aisles. To the left was the foodstuff, further behind that, medicine, medical supplies, and the pharmacy. To the right was makeup, bathroom products, and behind that, the photo counter. Pylar slid past foundation, eyeliner, and lipstick. He watched the way across the store, looking for any sign of the priest until he found the man at the end of the aisle of chips and crackers and nuts.

Feeling exposed, Pylar ducked behind the end cap of the lotion aisle and peered around as the man evaluated the shelf of chips. He set his red basket on the ground and crossed his arms. Pursed lips, the man stroked his chin, ran his fingers through his hair, then picked up a bag of barbecue chips and set it in his bag. He pushed his basket against the shelf with his foot and walked further down the aisle, evaluating more choices of something.

Pylar slipped back one aisle before he crossed from cosmetics over to groceries. He acted as casually as he possibly could. He tucked his hands in his pocket and pretended to be browsing the shelves before he stole a glance down the aisle. The basket had moved, and the man was gone from the end of the aisle. Pylar held his breath as he peeked into the neighboring aisles only to find no one except rows of soda and bottled water. The tension in his shoulders melted away and his posture relaxed as confusion set in. Pylar rounded the corner into the aisle and walked through it, quickly reaching the freezers of ice cream on the other end. He rounded the corner to the right, to the next aisle and it was empty too.

A cold sweat rushed his skin and he moved down the middle of the store, checking each aisle he passed as he went toward the registers this time, but they were all empty too How could the man have slipped away unnoticed? He hadn't heard the doors open or the cashier check anyone out. He rounded another corner, no longer bothering to eye the shelves or pick through products. An employee stocking the shelves looks up and smiles, a box of condoms in hand. Their eyes meet and Pylar can feel his heart leap into his throat.

"Sir, can I help you find anything?" the employee smiled, his eyes visibly drop and drag along Pylar's body before connecting their stares.

Pylar's heart raced. "No." He cleared his voice loudly and attempted to deepen it. "No. I'm uh, I'm fine, thanks-." He lifted a hand and forced out the most awkward of polite laughs he could muster. His fingers weave through his curly, red hair and push his bangs back.

"Well. If you change your mind I'll be right here." The employee turned back to what he was doing, but continued to steal sidelong glances in Pylar's direction.

Pylar turned around. His eyes widened and his heart stopped. There he stood, barely a foot away. The man's bright green eyes couldn't be mistaken for looking at anything else and a grin sat upon his lips. He was much more handsome now than Pylar had realized last night when everyone had been wearing masks. He had broad shoulders and stood about the same height as Pylar. He blond hair appeared messily combed by fingers, but all in the right place and when he smiled he had a genuine lightness about him. Fun and heat all came out at once.

Pylar squeezed his eyes shut and gave his head a quick shake. Since when did he think anyone was attractive?

"Do I... know you from somewhere..?" the man said.

Pylar lifted his head, eyes open as he swallowed hard before responding, "Maybe."

"Where from..?" the man said. He looked inquisitive and curious, but his smirk and cocked eyebrow ruined the air of naivety he was trying to portray.

"Well, it uh, it would have been brief."

"I'm sure, but where would it have been?" The man placed the basket down and stepped closer, closing the gap between them ever so slightly.

Heat raced to Pylar's skin. He wanted to stumble back, get some space. He couldn't breathe, there something too intense in the air, but he couldn't move his feet. It was like his feet had become weighted. "I don't know."

"Are you an artist?" the man said.

Pylar shook his head. "No."

"A religious man, maybe?"

Pylar briefly chuckled, but still shook his head. "No. I haven't been to church in a... in a long time." He took a step back and felt able to breathe again. "But I uh, recently visited one, I guess."

"First time?"

Pylar nodded.

"Maybe we saw each other at church then. Though, if I'm honest, I don't frequent churches very often. We don't mix well. They don't like the kinds of things I tend to preach, but that tends to happen when you're a little unconventional."

"Yeah?" Pylar smiled, but the edge of his lips twitched. He hoped his face wasn't as red as it felt. "What kind of stuff do you preach?"

"Pleasure, mostly." His eyes connected with Pylar's. "Knowing the body, knowing your body. A little bit of worship sometimes. You know, I think if more people spent time worshiping their bodies and a little less time criticizing them, everyone would be much happier. The body only wants to give happiness if you let it."

Pylar tried to speak, but the words, again, caught in his throat and he had to clear it again before he felt he could say anything. "Do you... when do you run these, uhm, things? Do you... do them at night? Like, on a Saturday night sometimes?"

"Sometimes." The man's voice purred. "I think maybe that's where I've seen you before."

Pylar thought he was nodding his head, but instead, he just stood there, without moving, without answering, without affirming anything. What would happen if this guy knew that he had seen him having sex last night at that hotel? The hotel where they said nothing happened last night?

The man laughed and covered his lips to hide it. Though the smile remained wide when he stopped laughing. "The name's Gage." He put his hand out.

"Gage..?" Pylar shook Gage's hand.

"Oh, your name too?"

"No, no. I'm uh, I'm Pylar."

"Pylar?" Gage slipped his hands into his pocket and lifted a brow. "What kind of name is that?"

"A good kind of name," Pylar said, smiling through pursed lips. "What kind of name is Gage?"

"One I think I'd like to hear you moan."

Pylar's skin instantly went hot. If his face wasn't red before, he knew it was now. His jaw tightened and anything he tried to say came out as a silent stammer, vibrations he felt between his lips, but without a vocal presence. His phone beeped, startling him out of his stupor. He withdrew it from his pocket. Across the screen the alarm reminded him he couldn't stay here; he had work. Pylar slowly slipped his phone back into his pocket and swallowed. "I, uh... I have to go."

"Bummer," Gage said. His tongue slid along the edge of his bottom lip. He leaned down and grabbed his shopping basket in a quick movement. "I feel like we have a lot more to say."

"I know — I want to ask you some questions. About last night, about the church, about Hvn," the words came out of Pylar's mouth before he thought them.

"So ask." He was so sincere. Without a sneer, without offense, without aggression. Gage was more inviting than anyone Pylar had met while at university.

Maybe it was the image of the man on the pulpit with his pants around his ankles and his heat in his hand. Pylar shook his head. It couldn't have been. That sort of imagery had never thought so much about someone's sweaty body or the way his fingers felt sliding into his own pants, running against his skin or how hot the preacher man's skin might feel pressed against his own. "I..." Pylar glanced down at the lump in his pocket where his phone pressed out. "I can't. I have to go."

Gage grabbed Pylar by the arm. "Then let me offer you something for the road, at least."

Pylar didn't pull back, and after a moment, Gage released his arm. He grabbed his wallet from his back pocket, popped it open, and slid out a sleek black card with a deep blue stripe across it. "If you have any questions later... or you want to try anything out—anything—This is my number."

Pylar ran his thumb over the card, feeling the indent against his fingers. His heart throbbed tightly in his chest, then his ears. "Are you—" He caught Gage's eyes with his own. "Are you a prostitute?"

Gage didn't answer. He laughed and turned away, waving his hand in the air and saying, "Goodbye, Pylar," before disappearing down another aisle.

Pylar followed after him, rounding the corner quickly, but by then, Gage had disappeared. A basket of barbecue chips, a can of mixed nuts, and a brownie sat alone on the floor. Pylar went to the end of the aisle. "Gage?" he said, but there was no answer. There wouldn't be. Aside from the cashiers, the store was empty again. He startled when his phone vibrated again against his thigh. He withdrew it, the reminder on his phone went wild again and the clock told him he was going to be late for work. "Shit—" he muttered, then ran out the door.