During the next three hours of ridiculously frenetic dancing, Gabe reminded Tristan of his surroundings four more times. Not bad really, since Noel said the memory usually went after thirty minutes or so. Maybe it was the energy, the dancing, or even Gabe himself. It didn’t matter, because the blond man in his arms was having the time of his life, and Gabe was thrilled to be a part of it.

The first time he saw Tristan huddled on the floor of the break room, red-faced and freaking out, Gabe had wanted to comfort him. To hug him and try to figure out why he was so scared. But Tristan had flinched away from him, like he’d flinched away from his dad, so he’d let him be. It wasn’t until Noel arrived and fully explained the situation that Gabe started getting angry.

Angry that Tristan was living such a difficult life, and that an attempt to go out and find some companionship had ended in fear and tears. His anger had only been compounded by Tristan’s confession, overheard as Gabe was leaving the break room. “Why didn’t they just kill me with that fucking bottle?”

So many things in one sentence. He’d wanted to make it better somehow, even though Tristan wasn’t his to fix.

He never imagined he’d end up dancing with Tristan at Big Dick’s, both of them sweaty and sporting wood. And judging by the hard length currently thrusting against his thigh, Tristan had been blessed in that area. Tristan’s hands were everywhere. Clutching his shoulders, raking down his back, occasionally dipping low enough to squeeze Gabe’s ass. Gabe returned the favor, enjoying his own manual exploration of Tristan’s writhing form. On the thin side of lean, very little muscle definition, but so much control.

Most of the time Tristan danced with his eyes closed, seeming to rely on instinct to keep him from bumping others or stepping on Gabe’s feet. But the moments when he did open his eyes, flashes of bright blue sparkled and showed his utter joy at what they were doing. He was nothing like the scared boy from their first meeting. This Tristan was confident and alive.

And ten kinds of hot.

Don’t go there.

He couldn’t help it. Tristan was exactly his type: blond hair, fair skin, a few inches shorter. Smaller enough in stature that Gabe could really get his arms around him to snuggle after a nice, long fuck. The kind of postcoital time that usually came with relationships, and it had been a long time since he’d tried his hand at that. Not that he was contemplating a relationship with Tristan. He’d known the guy a grand total of four hours, all of which Tristan would forget by morning.

Christ, that must suck so bad for him.

“Hey, stranger!” Marty Gibbons bounced his way past Noel and Shane, grinning to beat the devil. And he’d spoken to Tristan.

Tristan faltered on the beat. “Hi?”

Marty picked up dancing right next to them, as though he’d been invited into their bubble. “I’m so surprised to see you. I figured after last time you’d never set foot in here again.”

“We’ve met?”

“Sure have, but don’t worry. Gabe told me about your memory problem, so I don’t mind that you’ve forgotten me. I’m Marty.” Marty spoke in a flirty way that made Gabe’s skin prickle with irritation. Sure, maybe the pair had been about to get something on before, but tonight Tristan was dancing with Gabe. And even though he liked Marty well enough, Marty was far too self-centered to be good for someone like Tristan.

Tristan needed attention and focus, not a guy whose favorite topic was himself.

“Gabe told you?” Tristan asked.

“Well, you did kind of freak out on me, and he didn’t want me to think you were high or anything. Memory problems suck, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna dance?”

“I’m already dancing. With Gabe.”

Something like pride made Gabe’s chest swell. He liked that Tristan was enjoying their time together.

“You sure?” Marty asked with a jerk of his hips. “We had a pretty good time before.”

“I’ll have to take your word on that,” Tristan replied, with just an ounce of sass.

Gabe stole a glance at Noel, who was watching them intently while his body still moved with the poetry that was Shane dancing. Shane was a natural and he’d been a fantastic addition to their Monday theme nights. He’d gotten a lot of attention all night from regulars who recognized him, but he was staying firmly in his boyfriend’s arms.

That kind of devotion made something deep inside of Gabe ache for a connection to someone.

“Well, if you change your mind,” Marty said, “you come find me.”

“Uh huh.”

Gabe silently cheered when Marty drifted into the crowd. Tristan’s arms snaked around his waist, forcing their chests and groins together. Pleasure tickled its way down his spine at the pressure against his erection. A sliding, grinding pressure that was taking things from nice to wow. The tempo of the music changed from frenetic “must dance” to a sexier “oh yeah” that signaled the start of the last hour of business.

Tristan danced like a man with a very definite plan for how things were going to proceed, and Gabe didn’t know how to throw on the brakes. He didn’t want to, not really. But he also didn’t want to take advantage or put Tristan in a position to freak out again. He’d hated seeing Tristan so upset. Gabe wouldn’t allow himself to be the cause of another episode.

Because, as expected, Tristan’s motions faltered and his expression went distant, confused. He stared at Gabe, then glanced around him until he spotted Noel and Shane. He looked down where their erections were grinding together, and his face flushed.

“Gabe,” Gabe said before Tristan could ask or wonder. “We’ve been dancing for about three hours.”

“No wonder I’m so sweaty.” Tristan relaxed and fell back into the beat. His arms were looser around Gabe’s waist, and that was okay.

“Want something to drink?”

“Yeah, actually. I’m kind of feeling the burn.”

Gabe missed the press of Tristan’s lean body the moment they pulled apart. He kept hold of one of his hands, though, threading them through the throng, over to the bar. Dad already had two bottles of water waiting.

“Thanks,” Tristan said as he accepted one of the bottles. “Do you have an open tab?”

“Yep. Plus that’s my dad, so I get a hefty discount.”

“You don’t get served on the house? That seems like the best perk with a parent that owns a bar.”

Gabe laughed. “No, I insist on paying something. It was a battle, believe me. My other dad hates it but he understands. I like standing on my own two feet.”

Something in Tristan’s eyes shuttered. “Must be nice.”

“Which part?”

“Both. Parents who care about you and being able to stand on your own feet.”

Hell. Way to go, idiot.

“I never came out to my parents before the accident,” Tristan said. “It would have just been another way I disappointed them. After the accident, they obviously found out. Noel says they haven’t visited me once, and I know in my heart that it’s the truth.”

Accident. Getting bashed wasn’t an accident.

A flash of anger at Tristan’s nameless, faceless parents settled in his gut. “I’m sorry.” Trite but Gabe didn’t know what else to say.

Tristan shrugged, then sipped his water. “It bothered me for a long time. I don’t really think it does anymore. Everything from before is so clear in my head, but it also feels distant. It’s weird.”

“I bet it is.” Gabe couldn’t imagine the immense frustration of restarting your life every half hour. Not knowing who you were with, or why you’d walked into a room. It would drive him crazy. “Noel seems like a good friend.”

“He’s the best.” Tristan sought out his friend in the crowd, his smile brightening. “We met our freshmen year in college and we’ve been best friends ever since.” That smile dimmed. “Noel was hurt too that night. He doesn’t like to talk about it so I don’t know what happened to him but he was hurt.”

Gabe glanced out in time to see Shane spin Noel around in a complicated move that had a few folks watching. Curiosity demanded he ask Noel more about the “accident”. His complete enjoyment of this conversation with Tristan kept him still. “I’m sorry that both of you were hurt.”

“Thanks.” Tristan tilted his head in an assessing way. “I don’t think I do this a lot.”

“Do what?”

“Talk about myself with complete strangers.”

“Well, we’re not complete strangers.” He glanced at the clock above the bar. “We’ve known each other at least five hours now.”

Tristan chuckled, a soft, raspy sound that sent tingles down Gabe’s spine. “So I can upgrade you to incomplete stranger?”

This time Gabe laughed. “I don’t mind, if it means we get to keep talking.”

“Definitely. I don’t think I’ve made very many new friends these last few years.”

“Then consider one made.”

“Excellent. As long as you’re not offended when I forget your name in a little while.”

“I haven’t been offended yet.” Gabe leaned in so he didn’t have to speak so loudly. “Anyone who gets offended once it’s been explained to them isn’t worth your time or your friendship.”

Tristan’s broad smile was a thing of beauty. “Thank you. Sometimes I forget the world is bigger than my room at Benfield.”

“The world can be anything you want it to be. You have a limitation, sure, but that doesn’t mean you have to let it hold you back from experiencing things.”

“I know. It’s one of the reasons I’m seeing Noel more. I know I’ve been to see him where he lives. I don’t remember the trips, exactly, just a sense of having been there.”

“That’s definitely a start. So is coming here tonight.”

“Yeah.” Tristan fiddled with the plastic ring around the bottle’s neck. “I wanted to get out and to dance and be normal for a while. I honestly don’t think I expected to make a friend.”

“Well, I’ll tell you a secret. I’m a pretty introverted guy, so making new friends isn’t something I do easily.”

“Really? You seem like the guy who knows everyone and talks to anybody.”

Gabe shrugged. “I can be that guy. I guess growing up with two dads who own a bar helps you get to know people. And people know me by association. Doesn’t mean I’m actually friends with them. Like Marty.”

“Who?”

Shit. “Not important.”

“Please don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Tristan’s smile was gone, replaced by an intense stare that was almost accusatory. “If I ask a question, please answer it. Don’t treat my memory problem like it doesn’t matter.”

“That’s not—” Except it was what he’d done. “I’m sorry. Marty’s a regular here. He came over while we were dancing a while ago. He’s someone I know, but not someone I’d hang out with or call a friend.”

“Thank you.” His expression smoothed out. “So what do you do when you’re not hanging out here? Are you in college?”

“No, I graduated a few years ago. Communications degree that I’ve yet to use.”

“So what do you do for a job?”

“I’m a waiter. And I have a bartending license so I help out here once in a while when they’re shorthanded. Nothing fancy but it helps pay the bills.” No way on earth was he going to admit to his other job. Gabe wasn’t ashamed of doing porn, but the job wasn’t something for casual conversation.

“Is there something you’d rather do?”

“Sorry to say, no. I got a Communications degree because I could do almost anything with it, maybe go to grad school. I just never found a passion for anything.” Plus his home life was exploding all over the place, and keeping his mother under control had become another full-time job. “What about you?”

“I never graduated.” Tristan tapped his fingers on the bar top. “I was premed because that’s what my parents told me to take. One of their sons would be a doctor no matter what.”

“You have a brother?”

His whole face went blank. “I did. He died when I was thirteen. Alex was my parents’ pride and joy. He was smart, athletic, had scholarships. When he was gone, all of their expectations for him got dumped on me.”

“Man, that fucking sucks. I’m sorry.” Gabe needed to refocus the conversation. “If you’d had a choice for a major, what would you have picked?”

“Animation.” The excitement was back in his voice and his blue eyes. “I loved drawing and Pixar films, and I wanted to get into animation and storytelling. But my dad wouldn’t have ponied up tuition for that, so I did what he wanted. Didn’t get either one of us anywhere.”

“Have you tried taking classes?”

“What’s the point? I’d never remember what the instructor said. I can’t concentrate on anything long enough to complete a project. I’d forget what the hell I was doing or why I had to finish it.”

“Sorry, I didn’t really look at it that way.” Gabe felt like an ass for constantly highlighting Tristan’s limitations. He wanted Tristan to be happy, to find something he enjoyed doing, instead of wasting away his life in an assisted living center.

“I see things differently than most people,” Tristan said. “Don’t worry about it.” He gulped down the rest of his water. “You know what really sucks?”

“Tell me.”

“I’m really enjoying our conversation, and I hate that I won’t remember it.”

“I can write it down and email it to you. What’s your cell number?”

“I don’t have one anymore.”

Gabe blinked. He didn’t know anyone his age without a cell phone. “You don’t?”

“I didn’t need it. I never left Benfield, so Noel always called me directly.”

“Oh.” Duh. “But you have an email address?”

“Sure. I don’t really use it much.”

Gabe tugged his cell out of his pocket and opened up his email. “Give it to me.”

Tristan spelled it out for him.

“Brannon Rules?” Gabe had to know. “Who’s Brannon?”

“Ash Brannon. He’s a Pixar animator. He worked on Toy Story and Toy Story 2. A Bug’s Life. Over the Hedge. It’s silly but I’m a fan, and it’s the only email address I’ve ever had.”

“It’s not silly. Not if it’s something you love.”

“The nice thing is that I know those films by heart, so I can still watch them now and not get lost. It’s only new movies I can’t watch.”

“I’m glad you still have something you can enjoy.”

“Yeah. Except watching them is kind of depressing too, because I get all excited about a career I’ll never have.”

Gabe had probably reached his limit of “I’m sorry’s” for the night, so he held another one back. “You feel like dancing some more?”

“Sure. I need to take a piss first.”

“Bathrooms are in the back. Make sure you use the one on the right.”

Tristan grinned. “The one without the favors, you mean?”

Gabe nearly choked on his water.

“Hey, I’d heard of this place long before the accident. I’m guessing by your reaction that it’s true.”

“Yeah, it’s true.” Gabe couldn’t find much amusement in the fact, since the bathroom with the bowl of condoms and lube sachets was where Tristan had had his meltdown.

“You ever use that one?”

“Hell no. My dads are pretty open-minded guys, but I don’t like the idea of having nearly public sex with them both thirty feet away.”

Tristan laughed, then slipped into the crowd. Gabe watched him thread his way through dozens of dancing bodies, occasionally knocking away a grabby hand that made Gabe want to follow him so he could body-check a few guys. He almost did anyway, just in case the memory switch flipped again. But he’d seen the writing on Tristan’s hands. Hopefully that would be enough.

Gabe, waiter, sometimes bartender, no idea for the future, Gabe, two dads, Gabe, hot as hell, my new friend, don’t forget, waiter, Gabe.

Tristan kept the litany going, desperate for every crumb he had tumbling around in his head. Every small scrap of information from his conversation with Gabe, because it wouldn’t stay. He was having so much fun. He hated that it would end, only to restart and end again, until he eventually went home and it was gone forever.

Except he’s emailing me. I’ll have it to read and reread.

He just had to remember to check his email in the morning. He should have asked Gabe to remind him before they parted ways, or to tell Noel to remind him. He’d do that as soon as he got back from the bathroom.

The door on the left was temping, if only to see the infamous favors for himself. Something kept him away, though. A pang of nerves he couldn’t explain.

The bathroom on the right reeked of familiar things—sweat and musk and urine. Men still made out in the corners and against walls, but the single pairs of feet behind the three stall doors told him that heavier stuff was restricted to one area. He slipped up to a urinal, purposely ignoring the interested looks being tossed his way.

Years ago, the interest would have had him flirting up a storm with anyone who was cute enough for the effort. Tristan loved going out and meeting new people. He never turned down a party invitation, and he’d had a pretty active sex life. Memories he leaned on whenever he wanted to rub one out. One of his favorite fantasies was of the first time Noel fucked him. It had been a little awkward because they were already friends, and transitioning from friends to relationship was weird. But they’d laughed their way through it, they’d both come, and good Lord, Noel had a great dick.

Tristan redirected his thoughts before they made it difficult to piss away whatever he’d drunk tonight. He did his business and washed his hands. On his way out, someone crowded him against the wall and put a hand by his head. The guy was his age but obviously intoxicated, and Tristan had no idea if he knew him or not.

“Hey, hot stuff. Did you ditch the bodyguard?”

“What?”

The guy got close enough that Tristan could feel his body heat and smell the alcohol on his breath. “Gabe. Finally get tired of him? Need new blood?”

“I’m taking a piss, and then I’m going back to Gabe. Do you mind?”

“Sure do. I saw you first.”

Okaaaaay. “Yeah, well, I have a mind of my own and I can make my own choices.”

“Choices you don’t remember making later. How do you know you really want Gabe?” The dude grabbed Tristan’s dick and squeezed.

Tristan jumped, then gave the guy a hard shove. He stumbled into someone else, who kept him from falling over. “Fuck off, guy.” He slammed through the bathroom door, irritated by the drunk fucknut’s grabby hand. He could take care of himself, but goddamn he hated people who got wasted and groped strangers without permission.

Except I guess I’m not a stranger to him.

Still didn’t give him the right.

He glanced around the crowded dance floor, a little uncertain now that his thoughts were flying on a whirlwind of annoyance.

Gabe.

Right. He’d left him at the bar.

“Hey, you okay?” Gabe appeared beside him, that gorgeous face wrinkled up with a frown.

“Yeah.”

“You sure? You look mad.”

“Something weird happened in the bathroom.”

“Marty again?”

Marty. A regular. Someone Gabe knew but wasn’t friends with. “Possibly.”

“I saw him go into the bathroom, and you hadn’t come out yet.”

“Then yeah, probably Marty.” Made sense.

“What did he do?”

Tristan shrugged it off because he didn’t need Gabe to defend him. “He got handsy. I took care of it. My brain might be scrambled but I’m not exactly helpless.”

“I never assumed you were.”

“No? You followed me to the bathroom to wait.”

It was hard to tell on his tanned skin, but Tristan was pretty sure Gabe blushed. A silent admission that he’d been checking up on Tristan.

“I don’t need someone to save me, Gabe.” His frustration level rose another degree. “Living like this is fucking hard enough without people treating me like I’m a child.”

“That wasn’t…” Gabe flailed for the words. “I’m sorry.”

“Good.”

“And I don’t think you’re helpless, and you are far from a child. I just…I got a little protective. I like you.”

Some of Tristan’s frustration floated away on a little bubble of genuine surprise. Gabe was protective of him. Gabe liked him.

This is some kind of fantastic dream, and I’ll wake up any second.

“In that case, you’re forgiven,” Tristan said.

“Thank you. Like I said before, I don’t make friends easily. I want to keep the ones I’ve got.”

“Hey, guys,” Noel said. He and—Tristan glanced at the words on his hand—Shane appeared beside them, both sweaty and disheveled. “I hate to say it, but time to call it a night.”

Disappointment curled around Tristan’s heart and squeezed an unhappy pang. “Shit, really?”

“I’m wiped, and this one”—he pointed at Shane—“has to work in the morning.”

“Noel, can you take a picture of us, please? I want to remember this. And Gabe.”

Noel quirked an eyebrow, but he did produce his phone as asked. Tristan looped his arm around Gabe’s waist, enjoying the warm press of his muscular body so close. Gabe did the same, giving Tristan’s hip a gentle squeeze. Tristan didn’t have to force his smile for the photo.

“Hopefully I’ll see you again,” Tristan said.

“Yeah. Look for that email in the morning, okay?”

“Noel, make sure I leave myself a note to check my email in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” Noel said. To Gabe, he said, “Thanks for making him smile like that.”

Gabe nodded. “It was my pleasure. Take care of him.”

“Always do.”

Tristan reluctantly followed Noel and Shane around the dancing mass, toward the front door. He glanced back once to find Gabe still watching from the rear of the club. He waved. Gabe waved back.

Maintaining his connection to Gabe was important to Tristan for so many reasons. Tonight was the first real step toward normal that he’d made in a long time, and even though his memory issue would never go away, he had new hope that the future would be a little less lonely.

Gabe.