Foster care.

I can’t even imagine. I mean, I curse my parents at times, especially my mom. There is such a thing as parents who are too supportive, so I’ve discovered. But I wouldn’t trade them for anything, and I can’t possibly imagine what my life would have been like without them, who I would have been without that foundation of love and support.

I’m no shrink, but even the little bit of info Troy gave me on his background explains a lot. No wonder he has a hard time building friendships and relationships. No one has apparently ever stuck around long enough for him to even know what those words mean.

I guess I’ll have to show him.

The thought warms my heart. I like him, this emotionally closed-off guy, who is so sexy and wild and free. And now the strange urge I’ve had to be his friend is even stronger, at least until that constant weariness in his eyes is gone.

“At this rate, we’re never gonna make Vegas tonight,” Troy says. He perked right back up after entertaining me with the story of his first time—convincing a guy he’d had a crush on that yes, he’d done this dozens of times, while praying he wouldn’t fuck up his first time topping. I swear, this guy was born to fuck.

I eye the endless traffic jam ahead of us. Traffic is an eternal curse here in LA, but it seems even worse than usual. We’ve been in the car for two hours, and we haven’t even reached Azusa yet. “There must be some kind of accident,” I say.

“There’s always some kind of accident.”

“True. A bigger accident, then. Bigger than normal.”

Troy smiles. “You know what else is bigger than normal?”

I groan. “Seriously? You’re making a dirty joke out of a potential pile up?”

Wrong choice of words. Troy’s grin widens. “I bet we could create a really big pile up.”

“I give up. You’re determined to turn everything into sex, aren’t you?”

Troy shoots me an innocent look. “Sex? Who’s talking about sex? I never even mentioned sex.”

The traffic has been at a complete standstill for minutes now, which means I can send him a long glare. I don’t think it’s very effective, because he keeps grinning at me.

After a few more minutes of no moving, I sigh. “Wanna get off the freeway and see if we can grab a bite somewhere? This seems pretty useless.”

He nods, then points at a sign, a hundred yards or so ahead. “There’s a mall here. I’m not sure how big it is, but usually if there’s a mall, there’s something to eat, right?”

I swear, it takes us ten minutes to make it to the next exit, and we both sigh with relief as we get off. The mall turns out to be a small one, but there’s a couple of restaurant options, so it works.

When we step out after wolfing down a delicious burger, there’s a guy on the phone in our way. “I’m begging you, Austin, you have to come. You fucking promised me!” he pleads. “I’m gonna be a laughingstock if I show up by myself.”

Apparently, Austin decides to hang up, because the guy locks his phone with an angry gesture. “Motherfucking asshole,” he mutters.

He’s cute, an adorable little twink with a pale face, black hair that’s styled into a careful mess, and a tight little body. He’s also obviously gay. I mean, my gaydar is plinging like a freaking weather alert.

“You okay?” I ask.

He looks up from his phone. His eyes slightly widen when he spots us, but he’s not embarrassed, which I like. “Yeah. No. It’s nothing serious, let me put it that way. Nobody’s dying, not literally at least.”

My curiosity is piqued, I can’t help it. “You got stood up?” I ask. “Sorry, we overheard that last bit.”

He shakes his head, obviously still frustrated. “Yeah. For a Paint and Sip party, can you imagine?”

“A what?” Troy asks the same question that’s on my lips.

“A paint and sip. It’s where they show you how to paint some stupid dumbass painting on two hours, meanwhile serving you alcohol so you don’t realize how shitty your painting really is.”

“Sounds...fascinating,” Troy says.

Actually, it sounds stupid as shit, but I like his version better.

“It’s not,” the twink says. “It’s, like, the most dumbass, asinine thing ever, and I’ve done some weird shit in my life.”

“So why do it?” I ask.

He sighs. “It’s my bitchy cousin’s bachelorette party. She puts the desperate in desperate housewives, and she wanted this for her bachelorette. So, of course, her equally dumb-as-dogshit Barbie friends obliged. And since I’m the token gay, and I can’t make it to the actual wedding because of work, I was lucky enough to get invited. This guy I’ve been seeing lately, Austin, was supposed to come, but he canceled on me. So now I have to face this horrendous bitchfest by myself, and there’s not enough liquor in the world to make this fun, trust me. Especially when I show up alone, ‘cause they’re gonna get on my ass about that after assuring them I’d show up with a date.”

During his explanation he gets more and more riled up, and he’s a little firecracker. I decide I really like him, and I shoot a quick look over at Troy. Our eyes meet, and he nods. We’re totally on the same page.

“Hi,” I say, extending my hand. “I’m Hendrix and this is Troy. We’d be honored to accompany you to this illustrious party.”

The little twink’s eyes spread open wide. “You’re shitting me, right?”

He takes my hand on reflex, and I shake it. “Nope, we’re dead serious. We’re fun, we’ve got nowhere else to be right now, and if I do say so myself, you could do worse than showing up with the two of us in tow.”

His face splits open in a big grin, as he shakes Troy’s hand with far more excitement. “Holy motherfucking yes, please. I’m Byron.” He sees my face and adds, “My mom loved poetry. Don’t ask.”

“I’m named after Jimmy Hendrix, so I feel you.”

“So, you want us to pose as a threesome or what?” Troy asks.

“Hell, yes,” Byron replies. “I can’t imagine anything better than that to stick it to my stuck-up cousin. Her name is Barbra, by the way, and her unlucky man is Dennis.”

I mentally rub my hands. This is gonna be so much fun. “Give me the Cliff Notes version of you.”

“I’m 23, I’m a teacher’s assistant in third grade, and I’m almost done with my degree in education so I can become a full-fledged teacher. I’m an only child with two great parents, divorced and both remarried with new families, so lots of half-siblings. Let me see... My hobbies are ballet, which I’ve done since I was seven, and designing and decorating shoes. I’m gay as a unicorn, so sue me.”

He’s a happy, bubbly little twink, and he makes me smile. I’m so glad we’ll be able to help him save face...and have some fun in the process.

Troy gives him the rundown on both of us, though he omits the “adult” part in my “acting career”. Two minutes later, we walk into a large space, filled with dozens of tables, all with mini-easels set up, holding a black canvas.

“Byron!” a blonde woman greets our new BFF. She looks like something pink vomited all over her, and the slightly-too-tight hug she gives Byron informs me this must be bitchy Barbra.

Then she spots us and her face transform into an almost comical look of confusion. “Who are they?”

Byron steps back and takes both our hands. “Barb, honey, these are my men. This gorgeous specimen is Troy, and this other hunk is Hendrix.”

I swear, it’s a good thing Barbra’s eyes are firmly attached somehow, because the way they pop, I almost fear we’ll see one rolling over the floor any second now. It’s obvious she did not see this coming.

“You’re with…” She swallows. “...two guys?”

Byron sends me an adorable look, then does the same with Troy. “I am.”

“This little firecracker is too much for one guy,” I say with a sexy smile aimed at Byron. “It’s so nice to meet you, Barbra. Congrats on your upcoming nuptials.”

She opens and closes her mouth a few times before finally finding her voice again. “Yeah. Thank you. Thanks for coming?”

The last part comes out a question, and I suppress a smile at how flustered she is. Mission accomplished, two minutes in.

Byron referred to his cousin’s friends as Barbies, and we soon discover that’s an apt description. Women don’t do much for me anyway, but holy hell, this blatant explosion of all things fake is something else entirely. It’s like the LA version of Jersey Shore, and it ain’t pretty or even entertaining.

I don’t even bother trying to remember any of their names, because the Candys, Tiffanys, and Heathers all blend in together after five of them. Troy is as amused as I am, and we both keep a close eye on our little twink to make sure no one gives him any shit.

The instructor gives us a short and sweet inspirational speech about how anyone can paint. She doesn’t mention to what degree of quality, though, so I’m not convinced I’m not gonna suck badly at this.

The painting she demonstrates to us is some sappy beach scene with rolling waves and a dog playing on the beach. I was hoping for something a little more cultural, but I’ll take it. I’ll be happy if anyone can recognize it’s a beach when mine is done. Bonus points for the dog.

I gotta say, adding booze to an event like this is a great idea. Absolutely terrific, in fact. There’s a reason they call it liquid courage, and after three glasses of wine, I think my painting is fabulous. Isn’t it, like, the prettiest beach ever?

Troy grins as he studies my painting with suspiciously clear eyes. “It sure is. Best damn beach I’ve ever seen.”

I nod with satisfaction. I knew there was a reason I liked him enough to take him home to meet my parents. I frown. Well, not like that. Not exactly. Plus, I can’t say that to Troy because he’ll get all scared and standoffish. I gotta keep it light.

I reach out and grab his collar, pull him in for a wet kiss. God, he tastes so good. He always does.

“You’re such a lightweight,” he grins after I break off the kiss. “Three glasses of wine and you’re three sheets into the wind.”

I nod. “One glass for each sheet,” I say solemnly.

His smile widens, and he kisses me again.

“I’m starting to feel left out,” Byron says. We break off the kiss, and he’s watching us with an adorable pout.

“We can’t have that,” I say. I grab him by his hand and yank him toward me. He’s such a little thing that he falls onto my lap easily, and then my mouth is on him, and I kiss him until we both run out of breath.

“Mmm,” he says with a dreamy look in his eyes. “You’re such a good kisser.”

“Better than me?” Troy asks, before lifting Byron off my lap and to his feet, proceeding with devouring his mouth.

It’s not till I watch them that I start wondering. Was it weird that I kissed Byron? Should I have checked with Troy? We never said we were exclusive, and I’m pretty sure even mentioning that word would send him into a state of panic, but should I have asked anyway? He’s kissing Byron as if he’s starving right now, but is that because he’s jealous or angry with me?

Oh, dammit, I’ve had too much wine to think. I can’t deny watching him kiss that cutie is hot as fuck, though.

“You guys need a room?” one of the Barbies calls out. Troy and Byron break off their kiss and laugh. Troy sends him back to his easel with a playful swat on his butt.

I finish my painting, while making short work of my fourth glass of wine. I think. I may actually be up to five.

“That doesn’t look half bad.” A female voice startles me. It takes a few seconds for me to push through the alcohol-daze. Barbra.

“Thank you,” I say, deciding to take it as a compliment.

“I’m so happy to see Byron so happy with you two,” she says.

That’s a lot of happy for one sentence, I think, but I decide to go with the flow. “Thank you. He makes me happy. Us. Both.”

“So the three of you are really together?” she asks, lowering her voice. I blink a few times because she creeps closer to me, and it’s weirding me out. I lean as far back in my chair as I can, but there’s a table behind me, so I can’t go much farther.

“Erm, yeah?”

Her manicured, pink-polished hand comes at me, dragging down from my cheek to my… I don’t know where her move ends, somewhere on my chest. I’m pretty sure, even in my somewhat inebriated state, it’s supposed to be sexy, but to me it’s creepy as fuck. Didn’t this woman get the memo that gay means not being interested in women, at least not sexually?

“How does that even work, with three guys, I mean? How do you keep it...equally satisfactory for all parties involved?”

She’s kidding, right? She did not just seriously ask me about my sexual activities with her cousin, did she? Oh, she’s gonna get it now.

“Oh, honey, there’s all kinds of ways. We’ve done a three-way sixty-nine, which is fabulous, but there’s also the classic option of using his hole for one cock, and his mouth for another. Or Troy’s, or mine, ‘cause we’re equal opportunity guys—with other guys, at least.”

She takes a step back, but I lean forward ‘cause I’m just getting started. “Good heavens, girl, there are all kinds of delicious things we do to each other. Rimming is one of my favorites.”

Troy steps in, puts a hand on my shoulder. “He’s an expert at it,” he fake-whispers to the bitch. “His tongue in my ass, it’s pure heaven.”

“Not as good as his cock in my ass, though,” Byron says, parking himself on my lap. He grinds his ass a little, and I let out a happy groan. He’s a little tease, but I don’t mind. Especially not when I see Barbra pale even more.

I nibble a little on Byron’s ear, for Barbra’s benefit, obviously. “One of these days, we’ll convince our little firecracker here to take both our cocks at the same time.”

Byron lets out a little moan, and grinds his ass again on my cock. “I can’t wait.”

Well, neither can I. My cock hasn’t gotten the memo that this is all play, and is ready for action.

“That’s all...fascinating,” Barbra says, then gives up all pretense and hightails it out of there.

“Good riddance,” Troy says. “Time to get you to a hotel, Re—Hendrix. You need to sleep it off.”

I sigh. He’s probably right that it’s best to leave before my inhibitions are completely gone, and I start fucking someone right here, right now. “Can we at least take the firecracker?” I suggest.  

Byron climbs off my lap and kisses me gently. “Any other time, I would’ve happily obliged, but you’re drunk. Ask me again when you’re sober, okay? I can appreciate a good man-sandwich.”

I pout, sending Troy a pleading look. “I’m really horny, and I want to fuck something.”

Troy pulls me up, then slings his arm around me to keep me steady because I’m wavering a little. Maybe it was six glasses of wine?

“The only thing you’ll be fucking tonight is your own hand, though I doubt you’ll be able to pull that off. Come on, Mr. Lightweight. There’s a Marriott right next to the mall. We’ll get a room there.”

Byron accompanies us to the hotel, as Troy needs both his hands to keep me steady and can’t carry our art. Troy gets us a room, and ten minutes later, we’re inside the most boring room ever. Troy gently lowers me on the king size bed and proceeds to take off my shoes.

“Thanks so much, guys. You gave me the best night I’ve had in a long time,” Byron says.

Troy bends down for a quick kiss, and then Byron walks over to me and kisses me. “You’re a class act, Hendrix. A fucking amateur when it comes to drinking, but a class act. Have fun on your Vegas trip.”

I’m snoring before he even leaves the room.