Crow sat on one of the couches, sandwiched between a drunk Angela and an even drunker Jordan, whose arm was thrown across the top of the couch, his hand dangerously close to Crow’s ear. He was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. Not that he didn’t like attention, but he also knew how Jordan felt and the last thing he wanted to do was lead the guy on. Crow glanced at his watch, finished what was left of his drink, and slapped his thigh. He was going to get up from the couch to get another drink when they all heard knocks on the door over the music. Crow turned away from the drinks and toward the door. He had a feeling he knew who was knocking.

“Shepard!” he said as he opened the door. His twin brother was looking a little exhausted, sporting heavy dark bags under his eyes. Other than that, they looked identical. If his brother wasn’t wearing a gray sweater and light jeans, the complete opposite of what Crow had on, then they would have been much harder to tell apart. Crow also occasionally sported a beard while his twin enjoyed keeping a clean face.

“Crow,” he said, shaking his head as they hugged. “Sorry for missing your performance, man. There was just no way I could get out of this test. And of course it landed on my evening block, so I couldn’t even finish early enough.”

“Don’t even stress it,” Crow said. “Jordan caught it all on camera, so he’ll post it online later if you really want to watch.”

“Still, this is your first big opening night. Fuck. This whole medical school thing better be worth it.”

Crow arched an eyebrow. “I’m sure it will be.” He dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “Especially when I don’t have to pay to see a doctor anymore.”

“You’re not getting a family discount.”

“What?! I’m your twin. If I wanted, I could open up my own practice under your name.”

“Yeah and then land up in a federal jail cell.”

Crow shrugged. “It would make for a good documentary, at least.” The twins laughed, their pitches matching as Angela came over with a cup in hand, shaking her head and admiring them both.

“You guys should have totally been a duo, imagine.” Angela tsked. She handed a red solo cup to Shepard. “The world hasn’t seen that. You’d both blow up.”

“Yeah, two identically scorching hot guys with crazy good voices?” It was Jordan, he was walking past them, eyeing up Shepard like he was the last piece of steak he’d ever taste. “I’m going to the bathroom,” Jordan said as he was half-out the door, looking over his shoulder pointedly at the twins.

The group cracked up. Jordan’s forwardness was funny, if a little inappropriate at times. He left the room, the music from the bar outside muting as the heavy door shut.

“Our parents would have disowned both of us if they didn’t get a doctor in the family.” Shepard spoke with a smile, but Crow knew that there was a huge underlying pressure there. They had fallen into their established roles pretty early on: Crow, the artistic free spirit that flew around from interest to interest, finally landing on music, while Shepard always excelled in school since the time he could first pick up a pencil and write his own name. When their parents saw that Shepard was bringing home the straight As, they started steering him toward a career in medicine. Luckily, Crow knew that his twin brother genuinely loved helping people which was the M.O. of every physician, but the road was undeniably hard and Shepard was showing the wear and tear of constant studying, endless working, and little sleeping.

That’s when the flowers caught Shepard’s eyes. “You didn’t tell me you were seeing someone,” he said, walking over to the explosion of blue and yellow sitting next to a bowl of chips.

“I’m not.” Crow was starting to feel a little loose. His limbs were taking on that jelly-like quality. Whatever was in the Boom-tini was strong.

“Oh,” Shepard’s brows furrowed as he read the card out loud “Dear Crow, wow, your voice is incredible and your music really speaks to me. You make my life that much better. So much brighter. I was ruined by a man, but you give me hope that not all men are the same. I love you. Like, I’m in love with you. Sorry, that might be a lot. I’m a lot. I’ll be going with you on tour though, and I’m so excited. I’ll be at every stop. You won’t know — holy fuck” Shepard said, pausing from his reading for a second. “This is fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Crow said. Hearing it out loud, the words coming from his twin, it was a little too surreal.

Shepard continued where he cut himself off. “You won’t know who I am, not until I’m ready to show you. I have to make sure it’s the perfect moment. If not, then we might not work. I’ll make sure it’s perfect. Love you and kick ass on the tour.”

Shepard shook his shoulders and dropped the note on the table as though it had caught fire.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Crow shook off the weird feeling. “We talked to the police. They opened a file and took the original. That one you have is a copy. They left it, as if I wanted a souvenir or something.”

“You can frame it,” his brother joked. “Like a college degree.”

Crow laughed at the ridiculousness of that. His twin always knew how to turn things around and ease Crow’s worries. Growing up, Crow had always been the more nervous of the two, finding inspiration in Shepard’s courage with the world. He was always ready to handle every challenge and he always nailed it. Crow was a little more emotional, more loose. He would never have survived through medical school, but he could shape his inner-most emotions into a song that touched people all around the world. They definitely both had their strengths and weaknesses, and most of the time, the sets complimented each other.

“The party’s still bumping out there, huh?” Frankie asked, nodding toward the door.

Crow could hear the thumping of the music outside. He wanted to go back out there. He wanted to talk to his fans and get to know some of them. He wanted to dance the night away, forgetting about creepy notes and instead celebrating a killer start to his tour.

Most of all?

Most of all, he wanted to see the man with the crystal blue eyes.

There’s no way he’s still outside. It’s almost been an hour.

It’s still worth a shot. He was about to ask his brother if he wanted to go out and brave the crowd when Troy came up to them, immediately latching on to Shepard. Crow watched as Troy pulled his twin over to the couch, chatting him up about something Crow couldn’t quite make out.

* * *

The bar was still packed, and the fans immediately lost their collective shit when they realized Crow had come out from backstage and was trying to make his way over to the bar. He was pushed around and groped and offered drinks and had the brightly colored shadows of cellphone camera flashes in his eyes by the time he reached the bar. He couldn’t even make out if his target was there until he had reached it, and, sure enough, the man was no where to be found.

Great. Of course. He probably sat long enough for drinks and left before traffic got bad.

Crow felt a soft swell of sadness rise up from his chest. He couldn’t quite pinpoint it. He leaned on the bar and got the bartender’s attention, figuring he might as well have a drink. He could feel a group of college kids clustering up behind him, mustering up the courage to ask for selfies with him. He’d gladly pose, but first he needed the drink. He wanted to numb some of the disappointment that was growing sharper by each passing moment. Why was he feeling like this over some rando in the crowd?

A rando that blew me away with a look.

“You drink gin?”

It was a gravely voice coming from behind him, on his left. He swiveled on the barstool and felt his gut tighten and his head lighten all at once. He was looking right down the barrels of those crystal clear blue eyes. The ones that had hypnotized him from a distance. They were so much more captivating now that Crow was inches away from them.

And everything else: those slightly pouty lips, the five o’clock shadow, the close cut hair that framed a flawlessly cut jawline.

“Whiskey?”

Crow shook his head, snapping back to reality. “No, no, I hate whiskey. I’ll take the gin, though.”

The man’s eyes searched Crow’s. There was something there. He didn’t look at Crow the way people had when he was getting swarmed for photos. Those people had a sort of star-struck quality to them, a brightness in their eyes that was mixed with a soft glaze of ‘holy shit, it’s him’. But that wasn’t the way this man looked into Crow’s eyes.

No, if anything, it was Crow’s turn to give the star-stricken look. He knew he must have been giving off that vibe. But not Mr. Blue Eyes. He was looking at Crow like he wanted to pick him up, carry him out of the bar, take him to a bedroom (any bedroom), throw him down on the bed (any bed), and completely devour him, only to declare that they would spend the rest of their lives together, tangled together forever like the first night they met in the dimly lit Santa Monica bar.

I’ve fucking lost it.

“I’m more of a whiskey guy, myself, but I can respect a good gin.”

“Did I say I hate whiskey?” Crow started, “I meant I, er, hate people that hate whiskey.” Crow raised his eyebrows.

Ethan chuckled. “I didn’t like whiskey either, at first. But then I was, I don’t know, taught how to drink it.”

“Taught, huh?” Crow nodded, pursing his lips. “Maybe I just need a good teacher then.”

“Maybe.”

Crow looked at his watch and then perked up on the stool. “Oh shoot, what do you know, school’s in session.”

That had the man cracking a smile. It was a smile soo fucking sexy, Crow had to look down at the bar for a few moments before he went from half-mast to full.

Except, all that glancing down at the bar did was give him a better look of the man’s legs, which were currently spread open on the stool, his khaki shorts climbing up to about mid-thigh (and those were some thick thighs), which immediately had Crow’s mouth watering. Then his gaze ran over the man’s bulge, making Crow’s blood run twenty degrees warmer. He wasn’t sporting a boner, but he was definitely packing.

And… yep. Full flag pole between Crow’s thighs.

“I’m Ethan. Ethan Winter.” Ethan spoke loud enough to be heard over the pop music. He held a hand out, which Crow immediately took in his own.

“Crow,” he said, shaking a hand that felt exactly right in his.