Normally at this time on a Friday night, River would be trading drinks for kisses, and then mutual fondling on the dance floor. He could sometimes get his hand into the other guy’s pants before Kev, the glass collector, elbowed him on the way past to tell him to take it to the bathroom.

But for once, he wasn’t keen to go out. Not even to the low-key bar around the corner where he could watch TV with the usual crowd of cuddly bears there who’d adopted him as a mascot. They loved to buy him drinks to hear his stories of what he’d done lately, and they always had a way of cheering him up.

Fuck, not even going out with Kyle to dance as badly as they could at a straight club and draw everyone’s attention.

It was only supposed to be a fling, but he hadn’t expected it to be… well, so much like a breakup. It felt like one, which as far as he was concerned gave him a free pass for a pizza, ice cream, and beer night. Screw leaving the house.

He’d only cried for a few minutes and felt sorry for himself for a few more before he hit the shower, changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, and unpacked.

Grumbling to himself the whole time about men with fucking emotional brick walls, he settled on a pizza order and then phoned it in. Then, he cleaned the living room a little and made a blanket nest for himself on the couch in front of the TV.

Kyle texted before long.

Made it home? Or will I have to send a search party??

River cracked a quiet smile.

Yeah thanks babe, he added a kissing emoji. Had a good week?

Quiet without you around.

Hey, I think that’s an insult… River snorted.

Kyle sent a winking face, then the running man emoji.

River smiled to himself, tapping his phone on his knee. No, texts weren’t the right place to fill Kyle in. Besides, everything was still too raw for him—the stalker, Zeph’s clear feelings for him and denial of them…

God, now that he was waiting for pizza, he was actually starving. It was supposed to arrive any minute now.

He texted back, Shows went great. Made lots of $. Getting that kit.

Yay! Nic says: woot!

River smiled and rolled his eyes.

Yeah yeah, lovebirds. Get a room. Pizza’s here!

He shoved his phone in his pocket and hurried for the door when he heard the buzzer, pressing the button to let the delivery guy in without picking up the phone. He tapped his foot, waiting the minute or so it took them to climb the stairs to his apartment.

There was the knock on the door.

River grinned as he pulled it open, and then he froze.

That… wasn’t a delivery guy. No baseball hat and polo shirt, no pizza in his arms.

But he knew the guy’s face.

It hit him at the exact same second the guy started toward him, jamming his foot in the door.

“You!” River gasped, grabbing the knob to keep the door only half-open.

The asshole at the bar he’d nearly fought with.

Wait. The bar in Vegas. Which meant only one thing: this was his stalker.

“Let me in, baby. Let me treat you like you deserve.” The creep’s words distracted him from the punch to his stomach until it was too late. He tried to shove his body through the door, crowding up close to River, his breath hot and hands wandering toward River’s hip and chest.

Winded but not down, River growled and stomped on the guy’s foot. “Fuck off.”

It only seemed to amuse the bigger man. His eyes were dark with some kind of fucked-up desire River didn’t want to see within a hundred miles of him. “Tell me that when I have you tied down—”

This time, River was ready for the hits. He ducked and took one to the shoulder, using his own foot to jam the door half-closed while he aimed a right-hook through the door and bit the guy’s arm when he tried to shove River backward.

For the first time, the guy’s confidence faltered, but he still leered as he stumbled. “Feisty little minx.” He licked his lips. “Just like the night we met, remember?”

“Out!” River landed a knee squarely in the guy’s groin and shoved him back.

The guy grunted, but managed to get in another comment. “You’re… gonna… kiss that better.”

River slammed the door shut with his hip. He slid both locks into place, but it didn’t feel like enough. Nothing felt like enough. Burning down the apartment and moving to the other coast, maybe. Or Thailand.

He took a few steps back from the door toward the kitchen while he grabbed his phone from his pocket and called the cops. He grabbed a knife and waited in the hall a few paces back as the guy tried the doorknob, and then went suspiciously quiet outside the door.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Zeph was right, and he’d never know. He’d picked up a stalker. All he could do was call 911 and hope these cops cared.