Fuck, I really needed a drink.

The first week of classes—half a week, really, since it started on Thursday for some reason—had been pretty damn shitty. I’d gotten lost on campus, and when I finally arrived late for my first class…

Well, my teacher was a hardass who wanted us to memorize a shitload of anatomy before we even touched another person. We weren’t going to practice hands-on techniques until the next semester. Worst of all, I had no idea if that was normal for this degree. I’d found other weekend courses, but I was about to pay a lot in tuition to this school. The tuition deadline was next week.

I wasn’t even going to learn anything I could put into immediate use, and it was so hard to slow down and remember that this was a long-term game. Not when I didn’t have income coming in now.

And then there was the fact that something about this plan wasn’t sitting right with me—but I had no other choices, besides trying to swallow my pride and take a shitty job and accept whatever the hell conditions came with it. But fuck, I’d run across half the country to escape being treated like shit. If the answer was to suck it up and accept being treated like shit in a different place, what the hell was the point of it all?

On top of that, Adam had been surly all week, probably because his steady yardwork job had wrapped up. The winter maintenance was over, and his clients had hired a real landscaping company to maintain their property during the summer. I’d suggested applying to that company or others, and he’d just grunted and stormed off.

All that, and I wouldn’t even see Charlie until Friday. Before he flew to fucking Dubai, of all places. I hadn’t thought he’d be the type, but most rich gay guys were like that. They thought they were immune from local laws just because they were important.

I didn’t go to any place that scared the shit out of me, and I didn’t want him there, but I had no claim whatsoever over his life and I knew it. All I could do was be supportive—and I did genuinely understand why he was going, when I was trying to be objective.

But I couldn’t stop putting together scenarios in my head: the border guards checking his phone on entry and finding our sexy texts and throwing him in jail until deported, or him going to a gay club and getting busted in a police raid, or even more outrageous scenarios like his client finding out he was gay and threatening to turn him in to police unless he stayed and designed more buildings for them.

It was ridiculous and I knew it, but I was just afraid. I was losing control everywhere in my life at once, and all of a sudden, everything that had seemed clearcut now seemed like a bad idea—but it was too late to stop.

All of which added up to me needing a good, stiff drink and a little dancing to loosen up. Maybe in the morning, I’d be able to think clearer and stop blaming Charlie for making what was probably a good, sensible business decision. Man, I was not cut out for a traditional job.

Before I could fall down the rabbit hole of “I’m never going to find a real job that doesn’t make me feel dirty” and end up in the wonderland of creative horrible endings that suggested for me, I grabbed my keys and phone. “Going out!” I called.

Adam grunted back at me, and I rolled my eyes and strode out.

Friction was only a ten-minute walk from our place, which was one of the best things about our location. We had laundromats—not that we used them, when Adam wasn’t being a dick—and small supermarkets, cafes, a bookshop… it felt like a real neighborhood. It wasn’t even a whitewashed hipster central like a lot of areas seemed.

I was invisible in the crowd. As well as I knew the neighborhood, thousands of others lived or worked or played around here. It was impossible to know the neighborhood faces, and I still wasn’t quite used to that.

For the first time, I started to wonder if moving here had been the right thing to do.

New York City was a metropolis like none other. I missed the open skies and fields, the sunshine and fresh air on my face. What the hell was a kid like me doing in a place like this?

Sure, there were good things about the city—and Brooklyn in particular. But I’d traded the feeling of grass between my toes for the electric sunshine of the city. The 24/7 lights always managed to sneak through the gaps of my blinds. It was like I could never quite escape the reality of where I was.

“Okay, I really need a drink,” I addressed the bouncer, who grinned and waved me in. Two shots of Jack later, I at least had something to distract me—the burning liquid that slid down my throat.

It took me a few more minutes before I really started to unwind and notice my surroundings, like time had passed in a few heartbeats instead of half an hour.

The place was maybe a third full, which was pretty good for this early in the evening. Once, I would have felt a thrill of excitement at the possibilities. I could be a little more overt when the club was busy, but when it was quiet, I didn’t want the bartenders’ attention drawn to me by a harsh rejection or a tattletale.

Now, all I wanted was a quiet evening—the kind where you could strike up a conversation with whoever was next to you. Someone who might understand a little of my life, who I didn’t have to explain shit to first. Since finding that was hard, I resigned myself to dancing instead of chatting. Different medicine, same effect—forgetting my problems.

The dance floor was already starting to fill in, and I had no qualms being one of the first on it. I didn’t have to push through a crowd yet to find a place to dance to the beat. Every song made my mood improve, even with just a couple of drinks in me. By the time I was working up a sweat, I was smiling.

There was liberation in collective movement, and a kind of joy that I didn’t have to say a word to share. We all knew the soundtrack, from Britney to yet another It’s Raining Men remix, and the DJ tonight was on top of his game.

“Oh, hey,” I called out with a wave and grin when a familiar face passed by.

Darren stopped for a moment and looked around. As soon as he spotted me, he shook his head and kept walking. “No, hon.”

I opened and closed my mouth for a moment as he headed to the other side of the dance floor. I hadn’t even been coming on to him, which made his reaction even more of a slap in the face. I’d never slept with him—we’d gotten close a few times, but he’d never been willing to pay and I’d never been willing to call it a freebie.

Like that, my mood crashed again.

“Fucking fine.”

My cheeks burned with humiliation. This hurt worse than it would if I’d been hitting on him, actually. A simple “not tonight” or “not my type” was easy to write off, and I’d gotten very used to rejection at work. But just wanting to say hi to someone I’d seen around, even chatted with, for months, and having that shut down so coldly?

It wasn’t the last time, either. Every time I spotted a familiar face and smiled, he turned away or pretended not to see me. The only exception was one of my clients, who pushed through the crowd to get to me.

“Working tonight, baby?” Jack smirked at me. “You haven’t been answering your phone.” He wasn’t bad-looking—another one of those guys in suits who couldn’t make time for a real boyfriend, but wanted the experience or illusion sometimes. I’d gone out with him a few times, slept with him every time, and I didn’t regret it.

Now, though, I couldn’t even muster a smile back at him. I had nothing against him, but my own gut was still twisted too tight from the string of rejections. “Sorry. I’m getting out of the business.” I had to speak louder than I’d like over the music in order to avoid leaning in close to him and presenting an opportunity to grope me.

A surprised expression crossed Jack’s face. “Got a boyfriend?”

Shit. I hesitated. My first instinct was to defend myself and say no, it wasn’t like that. But maybe it was like that, just a little bit.

“Hah. Lucky guy. Let me know if he doesn’t appreciate you enough,” Jack told me, and then headed for the bar.

I stared after him for a moment and then shook my head. The mood was all wrong tonight. It was one of those nights that, if I stayed out, I’d just regret more and more. So instead, I pushed through the crowd that had gathered on the dance floor and headed outside.

All I wanted tonight was community—to be around people like me, and talk to them, and feel like I was at home. Instead, they didn’t have time for me. Because of what I’d done, presumably. It was like a scarlet brand I couldn’t take off, and knowing that I didn’t have another career I actually wanted to do lined up…

That was the other realization I was trying to avoid: massage was not where my heart lay. I’d only thought of it because it was the easy, obvious option to transition out of my old life. But now, my old life was starting to feel more like shackles than the freedom I’d thought it was buying me.

Who the hell was I, anyway? It felt like I was a dozen different people, and none of them could agree on what was next. I just knew what I didn’t want to do: compromise my integrity, or end up broke and homeless, or end up in a situation where I had to make that choice—again.

Rather than drown my sorrows in whiskey, I headed next door to Bubbles. At least there was always a place here for me.

As I walked in, I stifled my groan.

The place was always friendly unless I had the same waitress I’d run into several times, who had never been nice to me. Of course she was working tonight. But I didn’t want to head back home and deal with a grumpy Adam swearing at the TV.

The hangover special would kill some time, at least. I swallowed my eye roll when the waitress greeted me without a smile and moved me from the booth of my choice in the window to one at the back, far away from the windows. Like she was worried I was advertising my wares in the window.

“Saving that for someone special?” I half-joked, trying to convey my annoyance without getting confrontational.

“Ya got a problem with that?” She was the picture of a stereotype, popping her bubblegum as she propped a hand on her hip, but then again this whole damn place was. All the bright red seats, counter accents, and menus, and the Americana on the walls, mixed with vintage gay kitsch.

Swallowing the insult to my already battered pride, I raised my hands. “Didn’t realize it’s not a seat-yourself place anymore, that’s all.”

“Mmhmm.” She kept an eyebrow raised. “It’s sit here or get out.”

It was the closest table to the kitchen, and no doubt the noisiest, but I gave in. I felt like I was doing a lot of that lately. I didn’t want to lose what precious spaces I had, and tonight of all nights, I needed them. “Sure, fine.” I slid into the booth. “Hangover special with black coffee.”

“Sure.” She headed to the kitchen, and I tried not to listen in. Instead, I pulled out my phone and fiddled with it, but there was nothing very interesting there to occupy my attention.

Hours ahead of me in Singapore, Charlie was in the middle of his work day. Was I just being needy, wanting to talk to him now when he was busy with things that were undoubtedly more important than me?

God, I was being a whiny, self-centered asshole. He deserved a good career, even if that career took him to places I worried about, and took him away from me when I was having a bad day. I hadn’t survived this many years on my own only to become dependent on someone else.

Vulnerable at their loss, more specifically.

I nodded at the waitress when she dropped off coffee. I liked my food spit-free, after all, even if she seemed to hate me for some reason I couldn’t work out. And having just been on the other end of that shit, I couldn’t bring myself to yell at an employee, even if they were treating me like crap.

A shadow fell across my table and I looked up. At least my mood was already at rock bottom, so Darren’s appearance couldn’t ruin my day for the second time. “Yeah?”

“Hey. Can I join you?” I shrugged noncommittally, and Darren slid in with his cup of coffee. “You’re looking pretty down. Why you hiding at the back? You’re always up front!”

“Apparently that’s where they put the whores.” I couldn’t bring myself to lower my voice in case she heard me. “I tried to sit at the front and she moved me.”

Darren blinked and then leaned back to see into the kitchen. “Hey, Enrique? You guys taking reservations?”

A peal of laughter and then a hearty, “Fuck off,” was his answer.

Darren shrugged and turned back to me. “Talk to Jared when he’s in.”

“I don’t wanna get in trouble. Uh, get her in trouble.” The slip made me cringe. Maybe that was closer to the truth than I’d meant. “Or start anything. I’m not ashamed of what I did.”

Darren frowned. “Did?”

“I’m quitting hustling. Dunno what I’m doing next.” I sipped my coffee, not bothering to hide the moody scowl. “Now I just need a face transplant so people will give me the time of day.”

“I’m sorry,” Darren sighed. “I shouldn’t have been a dick earlier. I assumed you were…” he trailed off with a guilty expression. “Looking for business,” he finished when I didn’t interrupt.

I didn’t have the energy to console him or pretend it had been okay. I shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t. Just wanted to say hi.”

“Yeah.” Darren looked at me closely and then leaned in. “What’s wrong? Nothing bad happened, did it?”

I hadn’t expected him to care. I gave him a slight smile and shook my head. “Just trying to make a legal life for myself. Do something more interesting now that I’ve got the option. It was good for me while it lasted, but…” I shifted uncomfortably. “If not good for me, whatever. It got me through.”

“Fuck,” Darren murmured. “I had no idea you were having a rough time.”

I wanted to defend my old career, but my ability to bullshit was at an all-time low. It felt like life was slowly sliding a rug out from under me, and whatever I grabbed just gave way. “And I’m into this guy who’s too good for me. I’m just a nobody trying to make ends meet. I was screwed up way before I started screwing for money. And now I’m… just generally screwed all over.” I choked up and folded my arms tightly, trying to get myself under control as I stared at the table.

Fuck. I was not having a meltdown about this—especially not in front of an acquaintance I barely knew.

“Hey,” Darren said gently. Then, he did something I really hadn’t expected—he got up and moved to my side of the booth, and he put an arm around me.

Even more surprising was my reaction to being held. For all I’d told Charlie he was skin-hungry, so was I. Once I got used to the touch, my muscles unknotted and I slumped into the hug, resting my forehead on his shoulder. He was even rubbing my back gently.

The waitress cleared her throat loudly and set plates down in front of us so hard I half-expected them to crack.

I tried to pull away, but Darren held me tightly. “What’s your problem?” he snapped.

“You know what.”

“No,” he said, his voice still razor-sharp. “I don’t. Tell me.”

“The only business on these premises is Bubbles, all right? Take it to a hotel or back alley or wherever,” she said. I didn’t have to look up to hear the sneer in her voice.

I was perfectly capable of ripping into her, but before I could gather my strength, Darren let go and stood up. I wiped my eyes as I gripped the back of the booth to keep myself both calm and upright now that my support had abruptly vanished.

She stared at him. “We got a problem, mister? I gonna have to call the cops?” she taunted. Behind her, Enrique poked his head out of the kitchen and stared. The diner was quiet now, so everyone heard when she added, “Bet he wouldn’t like that.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a problem,” Darren told her icily. “You can’t treat him like shit.”

“Jared told me what he is.”

“It’s none of your fucking business, is what he is,” Darren snapped. “If you have a problem with a couple gays hugging, you’re working at the wrong place. He’s more than whatever you think he is, and I bet Jared wouldn’t want you treating him like crap.”

My heart was in my throat. I’d never dealt well with raised voices, and I was starting to shake.

All I could think of was being screamed at. You’re dead to us, Kev. Get out. Forever.

I touched his arm. “It’s okay,” I mumbled.

“No, hon. It isn’t.” Darren shook his head, and I gave in. The emotion choking my throat was gratitude. I was grateful for the support, and that she was facing off with someone else and not just me, terrified of losing my safe place in this community…

Honestly, if he wanted to absolve his guilt by standing up for me, I wasn’t going to stop him. It wasn’t even about this in particular—it had just been a long time since anyone had stood up for me in any way at all.

“Sounds like you’re causing a disturbance,” she murmured with a smug grin.

“If you call the cops, I’ll call Jared,” Darren retorted.

Enrique’s head was snapping back and forth between them like a tennis match. When she turned to him and gestured toward the phone, he didn’t move.

“Call the police, bitch,” she snapped at Enrique.

Enrique’s brows climbed. He was only about her age, but his confidence came across even in the way he stood. He folded his arms. “The fuck did you call me?”

“Numbnuts, I’ll beat your ass later. These assholes are a bigger problem.”

Enrique laughed out loud. “I’d like to see you try.”

“The way I see it,” Darren interjected, “one person here’s causing all the problems.” He moved past her for the door.

“Good. Get out!” she called after him and then turned her gaze to me. It was hard. She’d dug her heels in now, past the point of reasoning. “You too. Go get your money off him, you whore.”

Before I could do anything, though, Enrique snorted. “Stay where you are,” he told me. “Darren isn’t leaving.”

“Yeah, he is, fuckface.” She gestured to the door, and I had to agree with her, even if I wouldn’t say as much. Then she paused, an expression of horror crossing her face.

“Uh huh.” Enrique smirked and looked around the place. “Lots of regulars in here tonight. Hope you’re ready to stand by your words, ‘cause I ain’t putting my neck on the line for you, fuckface.”

Before they could get into an actual catfight, the door opened and Darren came in again, with Jared—the owner of Bubbles—in sweatpants and a t-shirt, hot on his heels, and looking pissed.

How the hell he’d found Jared so fast, I didn’t know, but the gasps were audible as he came in. Most patrons had abandoned any pretense of ignoring the unfolding drama.

“What the fuck is this shit?” Jared addressed us, a scowl on his face. His hair was pushed up at weird angles, and he looked like he’d just been in bed.

“These two,” the waitress gestured between Darren and me, “were getting it on.”

“Really?” Jared looked at me, raising an eyebrow. Enrique laughed in the background, and Jared pointed at him. “Were they?”

“I wish. Would’ve made a better show,” Enrique said with a shrug.

I shook my head, my cheeks burning. “I was just… he sat next to me and hugged me. I’d never…” It was hard to hold back the mix of emotions now. I was still shaking, staring at Jared in a silent plea not to throw me out.

“You know what he is,” the waitress snapped.

“Tara, shut up,” Jared told her. He looked around and pointed at a guy sitting at a table—someone I didn’t even recognize—and pointed at him. “Billy?” He was a total queen rocking silvery platinum hair and a gorgeous red floral wrap.

“That guy,” Billy pointed at me, “was pretty upset. Darren hugged him and then that—” he pointed at the waitress and glared before continuing, “gorgeous individual told them to break it up. Told him to take his business to a back alley.”

The thundercloud gathering in Jared’s expression was frightening to watch for someone like me, who didn’t deal well with conflict. I found Darren standing next to me, and I grabbed his hand to keep myself from running out the door.

“It’s okay,” Darren whispered and pushed me gently to sit in the booth again and scooted in next to me, keeping himself between everyone else and me. I could have cried, I was so grateful for the physical shelter.

All I wanted was Charlie there, shielding me from everyone’s stares, joking to cheer me up, holding my hand.

Fuck. This was not the moment to think about all that.

“Tara, with me. Now.” Jared stomped toward the kitchen and pointed for her to keep going past us. He stopped and turned to us, his body language softening. “Sorry you guys had to go through that. I can’t apologize enough.”

I gaped. I hadn’t expected that answer. Half of me still felt like I was kind of sneaking around here, somewhere I shouldn’t be, and I’d been about to get caught out.

Darren squeezed my shoulders. “It’s fine,” he murmured again. “Jared’s solid.”

I could hardly tell up from down to know who to trust, but my gut instinct said Darren—and thus Jared—was safe. I just nodded slightly and managed a smile. “It’s… thank you, sir.”

“No, thank you. You come here a lot.” Jared reached out to offer a hand. “You belong here.”

Fuck. My cheeks were hot and wet, and I found myself staring at his hand instead of making eye contact as I took his hand. He had no way of knowing how much I’d needed to hear that. “Thanks,” I whispered as my voice cracked, and I shook firmly.

Then Jared nodded and headed into the kitchen while Enrique snickered and crept in after them.

When I finally wiped my eyes and looked around, everyone was pretending not to look at us again. Conversations were resuming, and the silence was no longer squeezing in around me like a ring of spikes. Darren hugged me hard around the shoulders again and gestured. “Eat up.”

The idea of eating seemed laughable, but my stomach grumbled and reminded me that those hash browns did look really good. I picked at first, but as we listened to the rumble of voices and clattering pans in the kitchen, my appetite slowly returned.

Finally, Darren mumbled, “So. This is a night to remember.”

I laughed weakly and washed down my late-night meal with a swig of coffee. “You’re telling me. But… um… why’d you even come talk to me?”

Darren shrugged. “You looked like you needed a listening ear. I wish someone had done that for me, so I try to do it when I’m not being a massive dick.”

I laughed again, this one coming to me a little stronger. “You made up for it.”

“Nah. One right doesn’t make one wrong… right…” Darren waved his fork. “Whatever. You get the idea. So, spill the beans. Anything else I can help with while I’m kicking ass and taking names?”

I dabbed my lips with flimsy napkins and shook my head. “I’ve just been having one of those come to Jesus moments about my relationship. Not quite relationship. Fling. I don’t know.”

“He doesn’t wanna be serious?”

“I’m more of the problem,” I admitted. I trusted him enough now to talk about it, even if I wasn’t going to admit to who I was talking about. If Darren only knew it was the guy he’d introduced to me. How weird life was. “I thought it was ‘cause I don’t trust that love exists, but… I don’t know. Maybe I’m just afraid he can hurt me.”

In this mood I was still emotionally raw, if not actually shaking. I was talking without filtering my words first, and I was surprising even myself.

“Maybe,” Darren agreed. “That’s always the risk. But you don’t need the answers right away. You’ve had a hell of a night.” He clapped my shoulder. “Give yourself a break.”

Before I could thank him for listening, Jared reappeared, looking distinctly disgruntled. “Tara’s no longer with us, effective immediately. I’m taking over her tables. Also, I seem to have lost your check,” he told me. “Don’t wait around to pay. You either, Darren.”

It took me a second to understand before I blushed. “Oh. Um. Thanks.” He really didn’t have to, but it spoke well of him that he was putting my meal on the house.

Jared shrugged it off. “I got too much other shit to do to worry about a couple breakfasts. Go away so I can turn over your table,” he waved a hand at us. I had to try not to smile. There was that grumpy New Yorker kindness again—an enigma I was slowly growing to understand.

“I’m going home to get some sleep,” Darren said and patted my shoulder. “You?”

I nodded. After all that, I was ready for bed, whether or not Adam was going all Eeyore back at home. “And me.”

“Come on. Let’s head out.”

I had to admit that having him by my side made it easier to escape through the whole length of the diner without worrying about whether people were looking at me. I wasn’t normally self-conscious, but having my business broadcast was nothing I ever wanted.

When we were on the sidewalk, the chill of late April just touching my exposed arms, Darren wrapped me up in one more hug. “You okay tonight?”

“I’ll be fine,” I assured him but relaxed into the hug, hugging him back tightly. Something about the simple contact bolstered me in a way I hadn’t known I was missing. I was going to have to make an effort to keep getting this kind of touch.

“Don’t stop believing in you,” Darren murmured into my ear. “Or this city will break you.”

I pulled back slowly and nodded, finally able to meet his gaze. “I won’t,” I promised. I’d been pretty damn close, but he was right. I didn’t move here to give up at the first sign of trouble. I was just the average twenty-three-year-old kid, trying to figure out who I was and what to do about it.

With friends on my side, maybe things could shake out okay. As long as I got on the same page with Charlie as soon as possible, whether or not it put my heart in danger.

“And for God’s sake, don’t break both your hearts when you like each other already,” Darren murmured, avoiding my gaze. He looked up as if searching for stars. Fat chance of that, in Brooklyn. “Even if that’s all you’re used to doing… screwing up is a self-fulfilling prophecy.” For the first time, I wanted to ask if he was okay, but Darren was already turning away. “Have a good night,” he added.

“Y-You too. Thanks again. For everything.”

He just raised a hand and beat a swift retreat, leaving me standing there for a moment and watching the bouncer search girls’ handbags on the way into Friction.

The confrontation had seemed like the biggest deal in the world just ten or twenty minutes ago, but life carried on just outside the door like nothing had ever happened. Maybe Darren was right, and I could reinvent myself. Brooklyn was big enough, and I was young enough.

All I had to do was believe it was possible.