THE BOUNCER barely glanced at their driver’s licenses before wrapping a hot pink band around each of their right wrists. A wall of heat and sound crashed into Connor the moment he stepped through the entryway. Dozens of small tables surrounded the packed dance floor, and a bar ran the length of one wall. Teenagers lined up three-deep at the bar. Whenever someone stepped back, a bottle of water or cup of soda in his hand, the crowd immediately sucked up the empty space. Neon lights and lasers flashed and bounced around the darkened club in a pattern that somehow matched the pulsing beat of the music. Connor blinked, trying to focus on where Graham led him. He’d never seen anything like it. The Green Valley Elks Lodge, the most popular hangout at home, couldn’t compete.
Graham leaned close to shout in Connor’s ear. “Close your mouth, buddy. You look like a landed trout.”
He snapped his jaw shut and did his best to look casual. The heat and humidity made him very glad he was wearing the thin tank shirt. Within seconds sweat built at his hairline. “There are so many people.”
Graham looked at him, cupping his hand around his ear to indicate that he hadn’t heard Connor’s words.
“I said there are a lot of people here.” Connor raised his voice and leaned close enough his mouth practically touched Graham’s ear.
Graham smiled and nodded, motioning Connor to follow him through the writhing bodies. Graham pointed at an empty table near a shadowed corner—the only empty one Connor could see—and made his way through with an ease that Connor wished he had. Connor tried to stick close to Graham, but no matter how many “excuse mes” he uttered, he almost always had to tap someone on the shoulder to get through. Graham, on the other hand, seemed to slip and slide between the people like water through rocks. He’d wound a couple of yards ahead when he noticed Connor’s difficulties.
Graham snaked his way back and grabbed Connor’s hand. “Sometimes you’ve got to push your way through,” he shouted, towing Connor in his wake.
Connor found it a little easier to navigate with Graham creating the path. He still had to occasionally twist sideways or tuck in his shoulders to get around people, but at least it was progress. He didn’t think he’d ever come into contact with so many bodies before. It was suffocating there, with the crowd packed in all around him. The person behind him was plastered against his back, and a heavyset girl pressed so tight on his right that her blue-striped hair stuck to his sweaty arm.
Someone farther back must have tripped, causing a chain reaction of collisions. The guy following him lurched forward, hitting the middle of Connor’s back. The momentum forced Connor to tip. There wasn’t enough room for his feet to adjust to the unexpected force. Afraid of crushing half a dozen dancers, Connor planted his feet and jerked Graham against him, using the counterweight of Graham’s body to keep from falling.
Graham froze, and as far as Connor could tell with the way he was pressed against Graham from thighs to shoulders, he was pretty sure Graham had also stopped breathing. They stood there, Connor holding one of Graham’s hands in his, and his other arm wrapped around Graham’s waist, hand pressed flat against Graham’s stomach. The firm muscles beneath his palm twitched, and Connor’s pulse beat out a faster rhythm.
Was he really hugging his friend? Was he really enjoying hugging his friend? Everything he understood about what was right and what was wrong battled for dominance in his head, leaving him more confused than ever.
Graham’s free hand came to rest on top of Connor’s, pressing Connor’s palm into the ridges of his abdomen. Not pushing Connor’s hand away, but holding it in place. Graham tilted his head back, and Connor’s chin grazed his cheek. Connor inhaled, soaking up the scent that somehow defined Graham—his light cologne, the slightly fruity odor of hair product, and that indefinable something that was Graham.
“Get a room!” The Moment—another capital-M moment like they’d shared in the locker room weeks ago—shattered.
The crowd around them pushed forward. Connor and Graham could either move with it or get trampled beneath a hundred pairs of feet.
As soon as he could speak through the haze of hormones, Connor released Graham. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries.” Graham had to shout to be heard. “This place is packed. You go claim that table, and I’ll grab us a couple of drinks. What do you want?”
Connor thought about rejecting the offer—he really didn’t want Graham to keep paying for him; it wasn’t a date—but the surrounding heat had him dying of thirst. “Just water.”
Graham nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
Connor reached the table at the same time as a skinny guy with dreadlocks. The other kid looked at Connor, eyes tracking his height and build, and shrugged, ceding the table. Connor was glad. He needed a minute to settle. There were no chairs or stools at the belly-high tables, so Connor wedged himself between the table and the wall, giving himself a full view of the room.
His mind reeled. He’d fought it for weeks, denied the very possibility of it. But here and now, in the chaos of color and lights, he had to acknowledge it. He was totally into Graham. Attracted in a way that should have been reserved for his girlfriend.
But, a very small voice in his mind whispered, is it just Graham, or is it deeper than that? And the question had a very simple answer—an answer that came with consequences he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.
The answer was both.
“He really shouldn’t have left you by your lonesome.” Liam sidled up to him and leaned against the back wall next to Connor. “Some young stud might try to steal you away.”
Connor glanced at Liam. “I think I’m safe enough.” He stared at a mammoth of a guy with midnight-dark skin strutting by in a flapper-style beaded dress. He had to be at least six and a half feet tall, and he’d added to that with four-inch heels.
“First time here?”
“That obvious, huh?”
“Oh, honey, yes. There’s something so innocent in your wide-eyed wonder. If you’re not careful, someone’s going to try to corrupt you.”
The melodramatic warning in that lyrical voice helped Connor relax for the first time since he’d heard the word “Boystown.” Sure, he was a little weirded out by the outfit—seriously, silver shorts?—but there was something about this Liam guy Connor liked. He couldn’t imagine being so comfortable in his own skin that he’d walk around dressed like that.
“Maybe I’ll have to find someone to show me the ropes and protect me from the corrupters. I wonder where I could find someone like that?” Okay, he was flirting. Did he really want to flirt with some pretty boy in silver shorts and a mesh shirt?
Yes. Yes, he did. The marvel of that made him grin. This was a once in a lifetime night, and he was determined to make the most of it.
“I know the perfect guy.” Liam tugged at his arm. “Me. The first thing you have to do is dance. It is harder to latch onto a moving target. That’s rule number one.”
“Dance?” Connor made sure to sound unconvinced.
“Dance,” Liam repeated.
Connor looked toward the bar where Graham had finally made his way to the front of the crowd. Graham leaned forward to speak to the bartender. It looked like he was going to be a while yet.
“C’mon,” Liam demanded. “He’ll find you. We won’t be far.”
Connor looked down at the pretty green-eyed boy who stood with one hand on a cocked hip, before scanning the room full of strangers. He didn’t know anyone here. No one knew him. He could do whatever he wanted tonight, let loose and live with no worries about how it would fit into his goals or what people would think. His smile grew almost painfully wide. “Let’s dance, then,” he said, and let himself be dragged to the dance floor.