Prologue
Hunter, four months after Regge’s arrival
During that sweet spot between spring and summer, before the oppressive heat and bugs had yet to bloom, the queer citizens of Philly congregated to bust a move at Reckless Abandon—a club on Spruce Street.
“HB.” Regge North leaned to speak low into my ear. “I fear for this bloke’s health. It is far too cold out here to be wearing only his underclothing.” In front of us, a guy in a crop top and booty shorts was sporting goose bumps in the neon light of the club sign.
“That’s his outfit. Club wear. You’ll see.”
The last dregs of someone’s blunt wafted through the air, mixing with the scent of hastily chewed spearmint gum.
Beside me, Regge stared down at his usual Vans and faded denim, the muscle shirt accentuating finely toned arms. His worried look was adorable, and I assured him that he looked amazing, and judging by the looks his way, I wasn’t the only one who thought so.
Who wouldn’t be interested? Regge was a broad-shouldered, green-eyed blond—sex on legs with a side of charm and a British accent.
Not for the first time, I wondered if a gay club was a good idea. He’d survived a brutal past and portal travel, but a gay club was another kind of chaos—loud, sweaty, and shameless. Great potential for letting loose or finding trouble depending on one’s mood.
Regge had been adjusting to modern life well—adapting his language, his wardrobe, and not freaking out at public transportation or big-screen TVs. He’d even started working at Pinkie’s Bar with me. But it was a far cry from our friendly neighborhood bar to a night at Reckless Abandon.
Having lived in a restrictive society when it came to open affection among same-sex couples, he was both fascinated and apprehensive about tonight.
“Hey, Hunter.” Gavin, the bouncer, grinned at me. “It’s been a minute. Figured you were off the market.” His eyes strayed to Regge, squinting some. “You got ID, dude? This is twenty-one and over.”
“I assure you, good sir, I am well of age, being four and twenty.” Regge smiled but pulled his wallet with his newly acquired—and totally fake—ID.
Gavin stamped our hands and let us through. The bass line thumped, vibrating up through my shoes. The air was thick and permeated with body spray, hair gel, and pomegranate cosmos. I pulled Regge toward the very busy bar.
The dance floor was jammed with bodies writhing against each other. Strobe lights flashed in time with the bass line. Men and women shared the floor, laughing, talking into each other’s ears. Regge shouted toward me. “It’s loud.”
I nodded. “You’ll get used to it.” I leaned into him. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you.”
After downing half our drinks, we hit the floor. He was stiff and awkward at first, but as the music reverberated around us, he relaxed and mirrored my moves.
We were having a great time, meeting a few friendly guys, dancing together, taking breaks occasionally to buy more drinks.
Regge pressed his ass against me as we moved. My arms came around him as naturally as breathing. The scent of my herbal shampoo in his hair had me feeling like he was mine. I brushed a nipple through his shirt, causing a shudder.
“Hey.” The greeting came from a dark-haired guy in jeans and gold chains. His partially bared chest gleamed with sweat. “I’m Jason.” He was good-looking and knew it in his core, flashing an artificial smile.
Regge edged out of my arms, away from me. I’d felt him tense as Jason spoke. Unused to public displays, Regge held everyone at a distance. Irritated that our happy little bubble was burst by Mafia surfer dude, I kept one hand on his hip as we bounced to the beat.
“You guys together?” Jason asked.
I bit my lip as Regge shook his head. We were friends. I hoped for more—was taking it slow. He was still adjusting to everything. But then he turned around, draping his hands over my shoulders. Over his shoulder, I saw Jason dance away.
“You don’t need to stay with me, Reg, if you find someone you like.”
He scoffed, smiling as two guys from the friendly group came near us again, bringing their exuberant energy.
Several minutes later, I left him to refill our drinks. The bar area was crowded, but I pushed my way through to the far end.
“You look great out there.” A tall redhead leaned toward me as I waited.
“Thanks.”
My gaze strayed toward the dance floor, searching for Regge. I found our group easily enough but couldn’t see him. The bartender came by and I ordered. Red-haired guy said something else, but I missed it, still scanning the strobe-lit bodies.
The drinks came. The cups were sweating in my hands as I circled the dance floor. He was a grown man, but I’d promised not to leave him. The friendly group danced nearby. I leaned into the shorter one. I think his name was Marco.
“Hey, where’s Regge? My friend?”
Marco’s partner grinned at me and shimmied over. “You’re just friends, right? ’Cause he’s off with Jason.”
“What?”
“Jason. The dude’s kind of an asshole, but he’s hot.”
Marco pulled on my arm. “Henry, don’t—”
“He and your friend seemed to hit it off. They went toward the bathrooms.” When he saw my face, he backtracked a bit. “Maybe your guy went looking for you. I’m sorry, man.”
I sped off the floor, setting the drinks on someone else’s table.
The hallway leading to the restrooms was crowded. I stopped short. I spotted them kissing outside the men’s room.
Regge was against the wall. Tall, dark, and slutty was looming over him, his mouth slobbering over his neck. My Regge. The music became dull thunder in my ears. People jostled me out of the way.
His hands were looped around Jason’s neck as his chin tilted up. Jason whispered into his ear, hands roaming over Regge’s hips, reaching back to cup his ass.
A guy shoved me out of his way. “Dude, make way, I gotta piss.”
I was frozen. A steady line of traffic kept obscuring my view.
“Regge?”
He shouldn’t have heard me, but there was a lull in the music, and his name slotted right into that space.
Regge’s gaze was wide open when he looked at me. Jason was intent and focused on his goal, his big thigh pressing in between Regge’s legs. I could only stand there like an idiot and watch while my entire vision of the future got sucked away.
Before he moved, I turned and jogged back out onto the floor, passing Marco and Henry on my way to the exit.
“HB!” Regge caught up with me on the sidewalk. I kept walking. I couldn’t leave him—I was his ride. He wasn’t familiar with the city or rideshares or the metro. But I had to get out of that club.
His hand touched my arm. “HB, wait. I’m sorry.”
I pulled away. “Don’t be. That’s why I brought you, right? To get out in the world. Be yourself.”
My own words hit me. What had I been doing? Instead of helping him be independent, learn his way around, I’d kept him close. Playing video games, working at the same bar, hanging with our little group of friends, falling for him, I supposed.
“That wasn’t me,” he whispered.
“Sure looked like you.”
“I mean, it was, but—”
“What? Did he force himself on you?” His forehead scrunched, but he shook his head.
My jaw popped because I ground my teeth so hard.
“Because when someone says they’re still grieving, they don’t hook up with the first rando who looks at them.
” My tone sizzled now. Little jealous Mentos in a Coke bottle, fizzing to the top.
“You told me Charlie was your everything. You couldn’t—” My voice cracked.
“I know.” His voice carried over the few smokers watching us from the door.
“You said you weren’t ready. But that’s not true, is it? You just weren’t ready for me.”
Well, that was it. If he hadn’t known how I felt before, he did now. And he didn’t care. My feelings nearly splattered over the sidewalk—a sticky mess of emotions and too much alcohol.
“Hunter.” His hand reached out. His voice was that of a weary parent, not a guilty lover. We weren’t lovers, my brain screamed at me. I should get over it.
I slid away from his hand. “Can you get home? You have money for a cab?”
He looked stunned for a moment. Wild-eyed, abandoned. My heart lurched. I was being a brat. I almost said never mind, I’ll hang out, wait for you. Or let’s go home.
Then he straightened, his green eyes blazing. His chin came up as he spat out the next words.
“I survived the streets of London as a lad. I can bloody well find my way as a grown man in Philadelphia.” He twisted the knife. “I’m most sure that Jason will see me home.”
My throat burned as I forced out the words. “Good. Have fun. Have the fucking time of your life.” I turned away.
“Fine,” he shouted after me. “Don’t wait up.”