1. Luis
Chapter one
Luis
It was a party night! Luis was more than eager to get out the door and head for Neon, but first, he had to make sure his look was absolute perfection and totally fabulous. Make-up, hair, clothes, shoes, everything. No one else was home—everyone’s schedules had been thrown off by flight cancellations and bad weather over the past several weeks—but Luis wasn’t going to deny himself a chance to have fun.
He glossed his lips and stood back to admire his outfit in the full-length mirror. It was amazing, if he did say so himself: pink metallic booty shorts, silver mesh tank, and strappy silver sandals with two-inch heels that elevated him to a respectable five-seven, and his makeup had come out so good tonight. Luis snapped a few mirror selfies and sent them to Darius, even though he knew his best friend was somewhere over the Pacific and wouldn’t get a chance to see them until he had a break.
Practicing a few coy looks in the mirror, he smiled at his reflection and felt the familiar butterflies of anticipation at a night out. The only fly in the ointment was that Darius wouldn’t be home until the following day, and then they’d only have two days together before Luis was flying to Brussels, and then Darius would be back to Tokyo before Luis got home. Usually, they were able to get their schedules in synch, but not lately.
With their mismatched calendars, and Ricky continuing to be the reticent roommate, and Greg spending most of his off time with his silver fox boyfriend, Holden, Luis was often the only person at home, which meant the condo had become a lonely place. Hence the reason why Luis had decided to go out despite being on his own. He didn’t like flying solo, as those butterflies attested, but he couldn’t face another night in front of the TV with no one but himself for company.
With a last look in the mirror, Luis picked up his cell phone and headed down the hall toward the living room and his ultimate destination: the kitchen. He’d made a pitcher of lavender Cosmos so he could pregame and was already pleasantly buzzed, but he wanted one more before calling for his Uber.
Someone knocked on the front door at the same time that Luis’ phone screen lit up with a text alert flashing him an image of his and Darius’ faces at last year’s LA Pride Parade when they’d marched with a contingent of flight attendants. He swiped up on the screen as he made a detour to the door and opened up his messages, smiling when he saw Darius had responded to his selfies with heart-eye emojis.
You look great, chico. Have fun.
Luis sent back a heart emoji, then leaned forward to look through the peephole and almost dropped his phone because his hands lost all feeling at the sight of who was standing outside. His body froze. What the hell was Andrés doing out of jail? Luis’ mind rabbited, half-formed questions about whether Andrés had escaped and if he could pretend not to be home rising even as Andrés knocked again.
“Come on, cheeeeko, I know you’re in there.” Andrés’ voice was singsong sweet, but when he knocked again, the sound was menacing. “I’ll stay out here all night until you open the door, chico.”
The sound of André mimicking Darius’ nickname for him threw Luis back to the night of Marissa’s quincea?era and the knock on the bathroom door that had brought his world crashing down. He shoved the thoughts aside, told himself to grow a pair, and opened the door with a shaking hand. The scent of Andrés’ cologne hit him first, but the bile rising into the back of his throat had everything to do with the man standing in the yellow glow of the exterior light.
Andrés smiled, still every inch of the model-gorgeous guy he’d been when Luis was sixteen and had a crush on those blond curls and deep blue eyes. “There you are,” he said and gave Luis a slow once-over. “And looking all dolled up, too. Almost like you were expecting me.”
“Why would I expect you?” Luis asked. His tongue felt like it was made of lead, the sight of Andrés at his door turning every single butterfly to snakes in his gut, but he couldn’t form the words to tell him to get lost.
“You can at least say congratulations.” Andrés brushed past him, shoulder bumping into Luis and almost knocking him over as one of his heels skidded on the tile floor.
One part of Luis’ brain screamed at him not to close the door, not to trap himself inside with Andrés, but that wasn’t the part in control. Luis couldn’t think clearly, his breathing too shallow, too fast, and his entire body felt like it was made of ice.
Andrés remained standing near Luis and cocked his head to the side, arched an eyebrow at him. “Well?” He held his arms out, and for a mad moment, Luis nearly walked into them, thinking Andrés wanted a hug, but he was still frozen in place.
“Congratulations?” Luis managed.
“Thank you. Now you’re showing some manners. Yup. I got let out early for good behavior.”
Andrés touched Luis’ bare shoulder, and Luis tried not to flinch away. Showing fear only made Andrés bolder, meaner. He’d never respected Luis’ few tries at standing up to him, batting away Luis’ feeble attempts with a laugh. Even though he’d never touched Luis after the night of Marissa’s party, the threat of it lived under Luis’ skin, the memories alive and well in his brain. Survival was the name of the game whenever Andrés showed up.
“That’s…that’s great,” Luis said. “I’m sure…Gabriella is happy to have you home.”
Andrés grinned, looking every bit the surfer dude who’d made Luis aware of his attraction to guys. “She is. Very happy. Speaking of which…” He shrugged. “I won’t keep you since you’re on your way out, but I was wondering if you could spot me a bit. I’d like to get Gabs something nice to celebrate. A couple hundred should do it.”
Swallowing even though his mouth was dry, Luis nodded. At this point, he’d do almost everything to get Andrés out of his apartment as quickly as possible, and he was used to this kind of shakedown from him. Before he’d gone to jail—for dealing, though Luis’ family swore it had been a setup by the cops and a bad lawyer who’d forced a plea deal on Andrés—it had been a regular thing for Andrés to ask Luis for a couple of twenties at least once a month.
“Same email?” Luis asked as he opened up Venmo on his phone.
“Same email,” Andrés said, glancing around the condo as Luis tapped on his phone screen. “Place looks nice. You always did have that queer eye thing going for you.” He cackled as if he’d made a hysterical joke, and Luis flinched at the sound.
“Done,” he said.
“Always a pleasure doing business with you, chico.” Andrés reached for the doorknob, but at the last moment, he turned and took hold of Luis’ chin, squeezing and lifting it at the same time. He stroked an index finger along Luis’ cheekbone and leaned in close to whisper in Luis’ ear. “You know, I learned a few things in jail.”
Luis didn’t hear Andrés leave, nor did he have any idea how long he remained standing by the front door. All he knew was that at some point, he came back to himself and immediately locked the door.
On autopilot, Luis turned off all the lights and moved through the condo as silently as possible. Heading for the bathroom, he stripped off his club gear, leaving it where it fell in the hallway. He turned on the shower and set the water for as hot as he could stand it, then got under the spray. Going out was no longer of any interest to him, and he needed to get all the makeup and glitter off his face. He also needed to get warm and turned the water even hotter until it was almost all the way to the red mark, but he still couldn’t feel any warmth in his body.
“Fuck,” Luis whispered. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
He hated the way Andrés could make him feel weak and helpless, hated that he was powerless to stop the asshole from showing up, but most of all, he hated the way Andrés had poisoned the way Luis felt about Darius and made it impossible to say anything after Marissa’s party. Despite what he’d told Darius, he did remember that night. He remembered everything about it, but in order to move on, he’d shoved it all into a corner of his memory and refused to think about it or succumb to panic attacks and anxiety.
Throwing himself into the cheer squad and gymnastics had helped and earned him a scholarship right alongside Darius, sending them off to UCLA together, where he finally woke up to the fact that he was in love with his best friend. Only by then, Darius was too precious to risk losing if a romantic relationship didn’t work out between them. They were closer than family. Soul twins, almas gemelas. And Luis had no idea how he would survive if anything took Darius away from him.
Luis got out of the shower and dried himself off, then grabbed his fluffy pink robe and headed back to his bedroom, where he found comfy sweats and one of Darius’ hoodies. If he couldn’t have his best friend at home, he was damn well going to wear something to remind him of Darius’ strength and comfort.
He rechecked the door and made sure it was still locked, then headed into the kitchen to dump the rest of the Cosmos down the drain and made hot chocolate instead.
Flopping onto the couch, Luis grabbed the throw blanket and wrapped himself up in it before turning the TV on. He flipped through the channels and tried not to think about being alone in the apartment, but it was nearly impossible. Without the comfort of Darius’ presence, the solidness of Greg’s calmness, or even, yes, Ricky’s chaotic energy, the space was too quiet, too still. He was aware of every creak of the stairs outside, the faint bass of someone’s stereo, the echo of people’s voices in the pool. Everything was amplified, and he was a stupid ball of anxiety curled under a blanket on the couch, the leather creaking each time he moved like something out of a horror movie.
He finally settled on some ridiculous dating show and tried to lose himself in the petty dramas and overblown confrontations as the participants navigated their pseudo-relationships. It might be called reality TV, but Luis couldn’t find anything that came close to portraying his dating reality. Even if the show had only been about gay men, it still wouldn’t represent his experience. Despite that, he was able to lose himself in the show for a good half hour, even finding someone to root for and loving it when she was picked to go on the date for that evening. He could almost, almost , convince himself that Andrés had not been inside the apartment, that he hadn’t stood next to Luis in the entranceway, that the scent of his cologne didn’t still linger in the air. It was simply a matter of pushing it to the back of his mind and forgetting about it. He’d done it before. He could do it again.
At a commercial break, he unwound himself from the blankets and got up. He needed to pee, and he should probably find something to eat even though he wasn’t really hungry. Anxiety did that to him. Tied his stomach into knots so tight the thought of food made him want to throw up. After taking care of business, Luis was back in front of the TV, once again wrapped up in his blanket cocoon. The date was already underway, and Luis could tell it wasn’t going well from the moment he sat down.
“Oh, honey, been there,” he said to the TV, commiserating with the young woman who’d gotten dressed up for a night at an LA club only to have her date take her to a cowboy bar complete with peanut shells on the floor and a mechanical bull.
Luis just about died when they cut away to one of the confessional shots and the guy said he always likes to mix things up at the last minute to see if his date can go with the flow. “If she’s too uptight,” the wanna-be Brad Pitt with overbleached hair and a hickey on his neck said, “I don’t want anything to do with her. You got one chance with me, and then it’s ass-ta-la-vista, baby , if you can’t handle it. It’s nothing personal. That’s just how I roll.”
“You’re an asshole,” Luis said to the screen and took a sip of the water he’d grabbed from the fridge.
A fist pounding on the front door made Luis freeze so suddenly and completely he could barely swallow what was in his mouth. Andrés couldn’t have returned, could he? Luis held as still as possible, his heart pounding hard enough he could see the blanket move with each beat of it in his chest. Adrenaline shot through his body, and his hands felt cold and numb.
“Sweetheart! Open up!”
The voice on the other side of the door was very masculine but also angry and possibly drunk. Luis shrank deeper into his cocoon. The voice didn’t belong to Andrés, but that didn’t matter to his brain. The fist pounding on the door and the raised voice were dangerous, and he was doing his best to be invisible.
“Come on! I said I was sorry!” More pounding, more curses followed.
“Sean, what the fuck?” It was a second voice, somewhat muffled by—Luis assumed—distance, but it made the pounding stop.
“What the fuck are you doing over there?”
“I live here , you fucking idiot. Now, get your ass away from that door, and stop bothering my neighbors.”
“Oh.” There was a knock, this time quiet and polite. “Sorry if you’re in there, dude.”
Luis counted backward from one hundred very slowly and tried to control his breathing. He closed his eyes, repeating to himself that he was safe, everything was okay, and there was nothing to worry about. By the time he got to fifty, his heart rate had slowed. At thirty-seven, he was able to open his eyes, and by the time he reached twelve, he was able to unclench his hands and rub them together to warm them up.
“Estúpido idiota,” he muttered, disgusted with himself that he was so freaked out by being home alone at twenty-eight.
As if he’d summoned it, his phone buzzed with a text message.
Darius: Having a good time tonight?
Luis: Aren’t you working?
Darius: Wanted to check in and see if you’re enjoying yourself before I catch a few zzzz’s in the crew loft.
Considering his options, Luis went with lying his ass off.
Luis: Of course I am. I’m fabulous, and Neon’s great. Good crowd tonight.
Darius: Glad you’re having fun. Sorry I’m not with you.
Staring at his phone, Luis agreed. He’d love to have Darius with him right now. And not just right now. He’d love to have Darius with him. Period. He hated lying to his best friend, but how could he tell Dar what had happened without also telling him the reason why Andrés freaked him out so much?
Darius: Chico? You there?
Luis: Yeah. Sorry. Got distracted.
Darius: K. I’ll leave you to it. Home soon. Love you!
Luis: Love you, too. Get some sleep.
He stared at his phone, hoping for another message, but when nothing else arrived, Luis turned it off and put it on the table next to the couch without looking at the unread message from his cousin Gabriella. When the message had arrived earlier in the day, he’d seen enough of it in the preview window to know she was telling him something about Andrés. Now, he was pretty sure she was letting him know the POS had gotten out of jail. He’d long ago given up trying to convince his family that Andrés was a lowlife because they never listened. Gabriella and her parents were besotted with him, and his mother would never speak against her older brother. As much as he loved his family, it wasn’t worth the arguments.
The dating show had ended, and now it was a ridiculous gladiator contest with scantily clad men and women all with bulging muscles trying to scale impossibly tall walls or cross bridges made of giant balloons. Luis didn’t even try to figure out the point; he flipped through the channels until he found Drag Race and settled back into his blanket nest, comforted by the antics of the outrageous queens and thrilled by their performances. It helped keep his mind off his anxiety.
When he started to doze off, Luis knew he should go to bed, but the thought of sleeping in the king-sized bed he shared with Darius without his best friend was not just unappealing, it was stressful and scary. When he started yawning repeatedly, Luis knew he had no choice but to give up and go to bed. He had a prescription for sleeping pills because changes in time zones sometimes made it impossible to fall asleep when he needed to, but he hated to use them when he was home. He also knew that if he didn’t take it, the nightmares were likely to come back, and that would be worse.
One night, and then Darius would be home, and he’d be able to sleep for real.
They’d shared a bed almost as soon as they’d met at eight years old and began having sleepovers at each other’s houses. As teens, they’d stopped to appease Luis’ mother, who said it wasn’t appropriate since Darius was gay. That was before Luis was willing to admit to himself and his family that he was, too, though he wasn’t sure if it would have made his mother feel any better about the two of them sharing a bed. He suspected it wasn’t that big a surprise to her when he came out at nineteen, but she’d never said a thing. His father had taken a few months to come around, but he’d loved Darius almost like a son, so in the end, he’d come to accept Luis.
In college, he and Darius had pushed their beds together after Luis started having nightmares following a date with a particularly aggressive guy. Darius had walked in before anything happened, but it took Luis a long time to risk bringing anyone back to the room, let alone going to someone else’s, and even longer to be able to sleep without Darius’ arms wrapped around him.
When one of Luis’ uncles left him the West Hollywood condo six years before, he and Darius had tried sleeping in separate bedrooms, but the experiment didn’t last long. They migrated into each other’s rooms more often than not, and then Darius suggested that they share and rent out the second bedroom to another flight attendant. The suggestion had the added benefits of additional income and eased Luis’ anxiety over being alone if he and Darius couldn’t synchronize their flight schedules.
As Luis made his way down the hall to the bathroom, he looked at the closed door to the second bedroom and thought about the roommates they’d had over the years. Some were okay, but others, like Micah and Greg, had become dear friends. Micah was gone now. He’d moved to San Francisco to be with his boyfriend, now husband. It was likely they’d be losing Greg in the near future for the same reason. The man was currently on the East Coast visiting his silver fox boyfriend, and Luis knew they were already talking about moving to Greg’s hometown of Denver so they could get a place together. Their current fourth, Ricky, was Greg’s roommate and as much of a mystery to them as the day he moved in. He paid his rent on time and did his share of the cleaning, but none of them had gotten to know him very well.
After brushing his teeth and filling his water bottle, Luis went into his empty bedroom and told himself he only needed to last a few more hours. He was still shaken by the evening’s events, so he gave in and downed a sleeping pill before crawling under the covers and turning out the light. While the pill got him to sleep just fine, it didn’t stop the nightmare from returning. Sometime in the small hours of the night, Luis found himself back in the bathroom at his parents’ house with Andrés. Though the music outside was quiet, Marissa’s party was still going on with the voices of people he knew on the other side of the wall. It would have been so easy to cry out for help, but he was still high from the Molly, still disoriented, and when Andrés touched him, he thought it was Darius. It wasn’t until he was on his knees, Andrés’ fingers twisting painfully in his hair and Andrés’ cock in his mouth that panic set in and he tried to resist. By that time, Andrés wasn’t stopping. He called Luis a slut, told him he knew how much Luis would like this, then came in Luis’ mouth. Cum spilled down Luis’ chin and mixed with his tears. He gagged as Andrés withdrew, tasting blood from his split lower lip, then gasping as Andrés leaned down, grabbed his penis through his shorts, and snorted in disgust when he discovered Luis wasn’t hard.
“Didn’t you enjoy that?” Andrés asked. “A cocksucker like you? Better learn, cheeeeko. The boys won’t like you if you don’t suck their cocks.”
And then Luis was alone in the bathroom, trying as best as he could to clean himself up. There was blood on his mouth, blood in his hair from where Andrés had twisted hard enough to pull a clump from his head. He tried to keep quiet, but Darius was knocking on the door, asking if he was all right. Darius, whom Luis had only just realized he loved when they were kissing. But maybe that was just the Molly talking. Maybe…Luis’ stomach heaved, and he lunged for the toilet. But Darius was still knocking. If Luis could stand up, if he could open the door, everything would be fine. Instead, he wiped his mouth with toilet paper and told Darius to go home.
As usual, he woke in the morning with no conscious memory of the nightmare, but his body remembered. His jaw and head ached, his throat was raw, and his muscles felt wrung out.
Luis lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t need to remember the nightmares to know what they were about. Like everything else about that night, he shoved the dream to the back of his mind and forced himself to get out of bed.
“Honey, I’m home!”
Luis put down the brush he had been using to scour the kitchen floor, stripped off the purple kitchen gloves, took a deep breath, and got to his feet. He shook his head, ran his fingers through his hair, and tried to look like he hadn’t spent the entire morning stress cleaning, then went to greet his best friend.
Though he tried to play it cool, as soon as he rounded the corner and stepped into the living room, the sight of Darius made his heart beat faster. He crossed the room in three strides and jumped into Darius’ arms, linking his legs around the other man’s waist and burying his head in Darius’ neck. He didn’t care that Darius smelled of stale air, sweat, and burnt coffee. All that mattered was that Darius was home, and he could breathe again.
“Hey, baby,” Luis cooed in his friend’s ear. “Did you miss me?”
Darius chuckled, wrapped his arms around Luis, and carried him over to the couch, where he sat without dislodging Luis. “You know I did, chico. I always miss you.”
“That’s ?cause I’m so cute, right?” Luis lifted his head and stared into Darius’ eyes. His best friend was so fucking beautiful with his hazel-green eyes and dark umber skin. Luis had always loved the contrast of his golden skin with its olive undertones against Darius’ darker, more rosy color. And don’t get him started on the velvety feel of it under his fingers or the firmness of Darius’ muscles beneath all that amazing skin. Luis had to stop himself from pulling Darius’ shirt from his waistband and running his hands up his bare back.
“Yup,” Darius agreed, and it took Luis a moment to realize he was responding to the comment about how cute Luis was because he’d been so distracted by his friend’s proximity. “Always been a cute little bug.”
Luis wrinkled his nose and gave Darius a pout. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about at all.”
“Yeah, chico. I know. How’d it go last night? You hook up?”
“Naw. Wasn’t really anyone there that caught my eye.” Luis slid into the lie without thinking about it. On one hand, that was good because Darius wouldn’t find out the truth about the previous night. On the other, it sucked because it was just one more lie Luis was telling his best friend.
“Hmmm. Maybe we should go tonight, see if you have any better luck.”
“What about you? You haven’t had a date since that gaffer guy.”
Now it was Darius’ turn to wrinkle his nose. “Chris. Yeah.” He shook his head. “Can’t say I’ve really been looking. Maybe it’s time to test the waters again.”
Luis nodded. Both of them had been experiencing a dry spell for the past six months, ever since Darius broke up with Chris. If Luis was being honest, his own dry spell went back about a year, about the time Darius and Chris hooked up and then started seeing each other exclusively.
“Maybe we need to try somewhere new,” Luis suggested.
“That sounds good.” Darius stifled a yawn. “After I get a shower and a nap in.” He swatted at Luis’ ass. “Get up and let me go rest.”
Luis climbed off Darius’ lap, more than aware of how just that brief bit of contact had relaxed him. At least it did until Darius handed him a piece of paper.
“Any idea what this is about?” Darius asked as Luis unfolded the note. “It was taped to our door.”
Sorry about last night. My boyfriend is a jerk sometimes. Come by for a drink so I can make it up to you. Hugs from Max in Apt 3F.
Luis shrugged. “No idea,” he lied again and folded the paper back up.
“What time did you get back last night?” Darius retrieved his flight bag from where he’d left it by the front door and headed for the bedroom.
Oh. Right. Luis shook his head as if he were thinking. “I don’t know. Maybe oneish? One thirty?”
“So whatever happened was after that? And you didn’t hear anything?”
“What can I say? I was out like a light as soon as my head hit the pillow.” Luis smiled and hoped he sounded convincing. He followed Darius down the hallway.
“Max is a nice guy. I hope he’s okay and whatever thing his boyfriend pulled wasn’t that bad.” Darius maneuvered his flight bag into a corner of their shared room, then flopped down onto the bed. “It always feels so good to come home.” He rolled onto his back and raised his arms. “Come be with me until I fall asleep?”
“As if you have a doubt.” Luis stripped down to his boxer briefs. He climbed onto the bed, stopped to give Darius a quick kiss, then pulled the covers down and got under them. “I could use a nap as well,” he said. “Especially if we’re gonna go out.”
With a groan, Darius pushed himself up. “Let me just take a quick shower and brush my teeth.”
Luis watched his best friend get up and strip, admiring the strong shoulders, muscular arms, narrow waist, perfect ass, and long, slender legs as they came into view. No matter how you looked at him, Darius was a beautiful man, and when he turned around to blow a playful kiss at Luis, the beauty of his heart was fully visible as well. Luis loved him too much to ever risk anything that might cause him to lose Darius in his life and dreaded the day Darius found someone who could love him the way he deserved.
Several hours and more than a couple of pregame Cosmos later, Luis and Darius arrived at the Groove Lounge on Santa Monica Boulevard. Luis was dressed in his favorite pink harness and matching booty shorts, which he’d paired with pink Docs, while Darius had kept it simple with black jeans so tight they looked painted on and a black mesh top that was ripped in strategic places so it was even more see-through. They had done up their faces with dramatically outlined eyes and lips and painted each other’s nails with day-glo polish. When they’d posed at the door for the obligatory “going out” selfie, Luis couldn’t help but angle himself against Darius to get as much of the man’s body against himself as he could.
As they strutted their way toward the bouncer at the entrance, Luis was conscious of the heads turning to watch them and more than one guy giving them serious once-overs. He loved it and swung his ass with a bit more pizazz: full-blown sex kitten mode activated. It thrilled him to be the object of so much naked lust and desire, conscious that he could enjoy it because Darius would look out for him and keep him safe. With Darius around, he could relax, let go, flirt outrageously, have fun, and know nothing would happen to him. He felt powerful at these moments, knowing he could pick and choose who he wanted to be with, then walk away if he needed to.
Luis looped his arm around his best friend and hugged him tightly.
“Let’s get something to drink,” he said.
Darius frowned but nodded in agreement and put an arm around Luis’ shoulders as they stepped through the entrance.
The Groove Lounge was pulsing with light and music and bodies moving on the dance floor. Hundreds of disco balls hung from the ceiling, throwing rainbow-hued bits of light onto the crowd as they turned. The center bar glowed with blue light, a beacon in the dark club that Luis and Darius made their way to without hesitation. They ordered another round of Cosmos, then sipped them as they eyed the gorgeous men in their immediate vicinity.
The joy of living in LA was how many people worked in industries that placed a premium on beautiful faces and fit bodies, and Luis saw several guys he recognized from the internet or TV. Influencers, actors, fitness instructors, models, athletes, even the lawyers and businessmen in the city were beautiful. LA was a treasure chest, and Luis was lucky enough to know where X marked the spot.
Luis caught the eye of a guy whose Insta account he swore he followed and smiled with his best “come over and say hi” combination of sensually curved lips, coyly tucked chin and head tilt, and slightly smoldering eyes. As always, it worked, and before too long, the guy was sidling up next to him, a smirk on his luscious lips.
“Can I help you with something?” Luis asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Darius smile and shake his head. Though his friend was scanning the crowd, Luis knew he was also keeping tabs on him. He loved that Darius did this, and it made him feel protected. At five-five, Luis had met his fair share of men who treated him like a toy, but the presence of his best friend was a reminder that they should watch their step. Not to mention that Darius was a black belt in Krav Maga and could be menacing when needed in a way that even gave Luis shivers despite knowing what a sweetheart Darius was.
The guy who’d come over looked Luis up and down. “Maybe,” he said.
Luis took a sip of his drink. It was his turn to look the guy over, and he liked what he saw in the guy’s broad frame and defined muscles. “My name’s Luis.”
“Reed. Do you want to dance?”
“I haven’t finished my drink.”
“I can wait. Something tells me you’re worth it.” Reed flashed Luis a wide smile full of bright white teeth.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Luis replied and downed the rest of his drink in one swallow.
“Impressive,” Reed said as he held out his hand for Luis.
“Damn right, sugar.” Luis handed Darius his empty glass, then took the offered hand and let Reed lead him away. He glanced over his shoulder, mouthed, “Oh, my God!” and got a smile and a nod from his friend before they were enveloped by the crowd on the dance floor.