3

I set my makeup kit aside as I grab my phone, pulling up the group chat with the band.

I sit my phone on the counter and resume getting ready. Not wanting to appear like I'm trying too hard, I apply a thin line of dark eyeliner and a soft blend of shadow. A touch of pink gloss completes the aesthetic. With a final smack of my lips, I stand and admire my outfit.

Ripped black denim shorts over wide-woven fishnets, with delicate silver chains that drape over the sides. The oversized black shirt drapes loosely over my shoulders, its hem grazing the edge of my waistband, revealing a glimpse of my stomach when I lift my arms. Chunky lace up knee-high boots finish the look, and I give myself a satisfied nod and twirl in the mirror.

Slutty enough to turn heads while not being mistaken for a prostitute. Such a fun line to blur.

I pull up to Prism and leave the engine running as I walk over to the valet stand. The attendant, a tall blonde number who sizes me up with a thorough up and down, reaches for my keys as he hands me a tag. "Killer outfit," he says with a wink.

Compliments have always been the quickest route to my heart, and this one just sped into the fast lane. His smile is relaxed as I spin back around to face him. "Thank you! It's my birthday."

That information is pertinent to any conversation today.

And yesterday.

And if we're being honest, the entirety of last week, as well as tomorrow.

"Maybe I'll come in after my shift ends and brave the crowds to ask for a birthday dance."

My hands land on my hips as I look at him, pretending to be deep in thought. "I can't guarantee that my line of suitors won't be out the door by then. It's the talk of the town, you know. People coming from far-off realms just for the chance to lay eyes upon me."

"Naturally," he says in a good-natured way, walking closer to my open driver's seat. "Does this turn into a pumpkin at midnight as well?"

"Oh, shit, I really hope not." I gesture at my outfit. "Black does not hide stains well."

With a laugh, he opens the door and squeezes himself into my seat, the current position clearly not meant for someone of his height. When his knees almost hit his chest, he gives me a sheepish glance, and we both burst out laughing.

"Well, that didn't go as smoothly as planned," he teases, his grin still intact. "I have to get your pumpkin parked, Cinderella."

"Cinderfella," I interject, and his eyes get a very perplexed expression until it sinks in and he grins again.

"Right," he says, laughing quietly to himself. "Cinderfella, then. I guess I'll have to brave the crowd and take my chances at finding you later."

"It would appear so," I say with a tiny wave, turning and walking inside with a little more pep to my step than is probably necessary.

The moment I walk into the club, the lights flash in time with the music that booms through the giant room, then a hand grabs my wrist and twirls me in a circle. I'm grinning like a fool when I come face to face with Tai, who leans in and pops a kiss on my cheek.

"Hey there, birthday boy. Aren't you just a tasty treat tonight?" I yelp as he leans in and bites my ear, cackling as I swat him away.

My smile hurts my cheeks as I pull him into a real hug. Tai is the only member of the band who remains immune to my chronic crush syndrome. I couldn't possibly be with someone cooler than me, and Tai's the coolest cucumber in the garden. He doesn't even have to try! There's no way I could handle the pressure of competing with that.

Still, he's pretty to look at and fun to flirt with, especially when there's no stress about it leading to more.

Confident we're on the same page with our purely platonic dynamic, I run my hands over his arms, admiring the tight leather pants and playboy bunny t-shirt that only he could pull off. "We'd be so hot together," I tease.

"The hottest," he agrees with a nod. "Can you imagine how unfair it would be to everyone else?"

"Terribly cruel. Modern society might fall apart with the shock," I say, loud and dramatic, as I wilt into his arms. A guy wearing a purple shirt so bright it's approaching tacky walks past, shooting an approving stare our way that lingers.

"Come on, before someone tries to turn us into the bread on their man-meat sandwich," he says as he tugs on my wrist. "Everyone else is here waiting for you."

"They came?" I squeal, bouncing on my toes as he leads me through the throngs of people.

Tai turns and smiles at me over his shoulder. "Theo, you are literally impossible not to love. Of course they all showed up to celebrate with you."

We finally break through the sea of bodies, and I spot three familiar faces crowded into a booth in the VIP section. On one end, Eric and Dmitri are stacked on top of each other, their flushed cheeks and ruffled hair looking very much like their make-out session was interrupted, while Dante sits on the opposite side, arms crossed and staring away from the two of them like his life depends on it.

The annoyance on his face makes me grin, but as soon as his eyes meet mine, his scowl melts into a sweet smile. Tai drops into the spot next to Eric while I crowd in beside Dante. A chorus of birthday greetings comes around the table as I beam at everyone, and Tai jumps up again to get drinks.

I twist in my seat to find Dante staring at me with a peculiar expression on his face. Unable to read him, I bump him with my shoulder. "Penny for your thoughts, big guy?"

His tongue traces the seam of his lips, and my eyes drop to watch the motion. A brief pause is followed by him sliding his arm over the back of the booth, drawing nearer to me so that his voice can be heard over the booming music. "You look fantastic tonight." He pulls away and studies me with that same indecipherable expression.

"What, this old rag?" I gesture to my outfit that I spent no less than an hour picking out. "Honestly, I just played roulette and blindly grabbed the first thing my hands landed on. Pure coincidence that it turned out this fabulous."

His laugh is rich and deep, and I break out into a giant smile when I hear it. "Completely unplanned, huh?"

I nod enthusiastically. "Oh yeah, it's a damn miracle I didn't end up wearing last year's Halloween costume."

"Remind me what that was again."

"Well, it consisted of a rock-climbing harness, a few decks of cards…" A hearty laugh interrupts my words, coming from the bottom of his belly, and I'm mesmerized by the way it eases him into a state of pure bliss. Layers of worry and stress melt away. It's as if I'm under a spell as he looks at me, his eyes squinting from the giant smile spreading across his face.

The most beautiful thing I've ever seen. "God, Dante, you…"

"Bottoms up bitches!" Tai interrupts the moment as he drops a tray full of shot glasses in the middle of the table. As I glance up at Dante, his smile weakens slightly, but the happiness remains. His thumb tracks across my shoulder and makes me shiver as Tai passes out the drinks.

"To Theo!" he shouts, as the group lifts their glasses with a clink. "Happy birthday, buddy." Everyone echoes his sentiments as we toss our drinks back and slam the empty glasses on the table. The alcohol burns my throat as I relax in my seat, the warmth of Dante's arm comforting against my shoulders.

Quietly, I wriggle in, laying against his shoulder, a wide smile forming as he plants a kiss on the crown of my head. "Happy birthday, Theo," he murmurs into my hair, and I shut my eyes, relishing the sensation of his body pressed against mine and the comfort it provides, if only for this moment.

The table is filled with a steady stream of alcohol as Tai brings round after round. However, after a couple of drinks, Dmitri and Eric wave their hands, signaling that they've had enough. Despite their size, neither of them are big drinkers. Dmitri, in particular, tends to black out and lose track of himself.

So naturally, their shots are handed off to me and Tai.

The smallest men at this table.

It was collectively decided that we'd just pump our tiny asses full of happy juice, and right now, I can confidently say that I'm feeling pretty great.

"Dante!" I shout, much louder than I intended, considering how close he is to me. He jumps in surprise and turns to me with enormous eyes. "Sorry." I giggle, dropping my forehead to his shoulder as his fingers dance along my spine.

After a few seconds of enjoying the slide of his hand against my back, he gives me a small jiggle. "Yes?"

I lift my face, rubbing my cheek against his shirt as I glance up at his dark eyes staring down at me. "Yes, what?"

He chuckles and I give him a dopey smile. "You said my name," he reminds me. "Shouted it, even."

"Oh, right," I mutter, digging through my sloshing brain as I try to remember why I was trying to get his attention. When nothing comes to me, I shrug. "Want to dance?"

"Theo, by now you know I can't dance."

"No, no. Nope. Negatory. I do not know that you can't dance. That is a lie. What I do know is that you refuse to try. You have the ability."

"That's debatable," he mutters, but I shake my head and sit up straight, almost toppling over as I overshoot my destination.

"You can dance! I'll give you my best white boy moves. The sprinkler! The shopping cart! The Dougie!" My demonstrations don't seem to impress him, for some strange reason. He just continues to stare blankly as I do another demo of the shopping cart, accidentally smacking him in the eye. "Oops," I say, reaching over to pat his face.

He blinks at me a few times, which is obviously because he needs time to process my list of amazing ideas and not because I almost blinded him. "I don't think the Dougie is a white boy dance."

"Anything can be a white boy dance if you do it awkwardly enough," I point out as he huffs a laugh. He says nothing, though, because my logic is so sound there's no argument to be made.

Swapping tactics, I pout my bottom lip and widen my eyes. "But Dante, it's my birthday."

"Damn it," he mutters, his resolve crumbling.

I latch on to his hesitation. "All I want for my present is for my sweet chocolate man…"

"I'm half Mexican," he grumbles.

"…for my spicy chocolate man to get out on the dance floor and do the Macarena with me."

"It's the Macarena now?"

With an enthusiastic nod, I wrap my arms around his neck and slide into his lap. He sucks in a sharp inhale but doesn't make a move to relocate me. "Do you need a demonstration?"

"And get punched in both eyes? Theo, everyone in existence knows the Macarena."

"Well, that's not true. My little nephew is seven, and I can almost guarantee he doesn't."

"Only almost guarantee?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow as he gives a slight grin.

"Well, I suppose I can't be certain," I grumble, shooting him a dirty glare when he chuckles. "Damn. You're a pain in my ass, Dante. Do you know that?"

"Am I now?" His voice dips as I wiggle in his lap, fully aware of what I'm doing as I move. The alcohol has numbed my inhibitions, and I'm further intoxicated by the touch of his body against mine.

I nod and lean closer to his ear. "Want me to share a secret?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure," he deadpans, and I huff another laugh.

"I'll tell you, but I want you to beg for it."

With no inflection whatsoever and all the sarcasm in the world, he says, "Oh, please, Theo. Please tell me your secret. I'm absolutely dying to find out."

I narrow my eyes, pulling my face back to make sure he doesn't miss the sass oozing from my expression. "We need to work on your begging." He smiles again as I move closer to whisper into his ear. "I have a buttplug named after you."

He freezes before turning his head to meet my drunken gaze. Acutely aware of how forward I'm being, our faces are so close I can distinguish each and every little twitch and flex of his expression, but I hold my ground as he continues to stare at me.

Finally, he speaks, enunciating each word. "You have… a buttplug… named after me?" He says it with an air of surprise, as if my tendency to say ridiculous things still catches him off guard.

"Yes." I nod for emphasis.

"Okay…" he drawls before pursing his lips and nodding thoughtfully. "Intuition tells me I'm going to regret this question, but why exactly is this…" He trails off.

"Buttplug," I encourage with a nod.

"Right… why is this… buttplug named after me?" His embarrassment is fucking adorable, cheeks flushed and eyes darting away.

"I thought you'd never ask! The reason it's named after you is…" I pause and glance over my shoulder. "Sticks!" I shout, making Dmitri startle and shoot me a wild glance. "Give me another drum roll, my man." He rolls his eyes but obliges me, drumming the table before quirking his eye at my position in Dante's lap.

Ignoring him, I turn back around. "Three reasons. It's black, and super round instead of tapered." I grin at his exhausted stare as I rub my hands over his smooth head. This late in the day, the tiniest hint of resistance meets my palms from the hair that's trying to grow in. "But mostly because it's big enough to be a major pain in my ass."

He barks a surprised laugh at this, and I fold myself into his chest as I giggle along with him. The weight of his arms lands around my back as he hugs me to him, and the alcohol swimming in my veins makes me far too bold.

I tilt my face up as I lick my lips. "I have it in right now." His laughter dies as he snaps his eyes to mine. My hips give a slow roll over his lap as I draw my lip between my teeth. "Whenever I move, it hits that perfect spot inside me."

"Theo," he groans, unmistakable tension in his voice matching the pressure of his hardening cock against me.

"Fuck, I really want to kiss you," I whisper, giving another rock as my cock thickens and pushes against my shorts. "All the time, but right now, the only thing I can think about is your lips on mine. It's all I want. We would be so good."

His hands trace over my spine and his jaw ticks. "We can't."

"Dante, please." I lean in so close there's barely more than a few molecules separating our lips. "Don't you want me?"

"Of course I do," he says, closing his eyes and turning his face away.

"If you want me, then have me. Take me," I murmur, and he twists back to face me, his lips just barely brushing mine. I can't even be sure they touch, but the effect is still the same. His eyes land on mine, so close I can only focus on one at a time.

He takes a deep breath before grabbing me by my hips, and for one foolish second, I think he's finally giving in. His fingers briefly tighten around me before repositioning me from his lap to the seat beside him. "We've been through this, Theo."

The brat in me can't resist as I reply, "Go ahead, remind me one more time. It seems to be your favorite pastime." My voice drips with snark as I cross my arms over my chest, looking away.

He twists towards me and grips my chin, forcing me to look at his stupid, pretty brown eyes. "You are too important to me to lose. Everyone knows I'm shit at relationships, and I'd only end up ruining it, Theo. The last thing I want is to push you away or hurt you, so I'm not willing to take that risk."

"You keep saying that… that you're no good at relationships. Over and over, you've given me that same vague excuse, but guess what, Dante? I don't know that. I couldn't possibly know that. And do you have any idea why? Because you…" I jab at his chest. "Won't." Jab . "Tell me." Jab . "Why."

"You are perfect," he whispers, eyes serious on mine. "A dream that anyone would be lucky to have, and I'm nothing next to you." He's quiet as he says it, but the words hit me as though he shouted them.

"You aren't nothing… you could never be nothing," I say with an insistent shake of my head. "There is not a thing on this planet that's more important to me than you. Why can't you believe that? Have I ever lied to you?"

He swallows roughly and holds me against him. "I can't be what you need me to be." It comes out so gently that it dissolves the anger I have towards him.

But no, goddamn it.

I want to be mad at him.

"Why can't I be the judge of that? Why do you get to make those decisions for us both?"

"Because," he says with a soft kiss on my forehead. "Sometimes you just have to trust that your elders know best." And that's that. My window for this discussion has closed, because he's shutting down. Whenever the conversation gets too serious, he tries to lighten the mood by resorting to humor.

And as much as I want to push him, I refuse to force his hand.

"Fuck, you are old, aren't you?" He chuckles again as I smash my face into his shoulder. "I thought I smelled Bengay and moth balls when I sat down." That's a complete lie, because Dante always smells incredible. Something spicy and modest, just enough that I have to get close to catch the scent.

"Probably some bland oatmeal in my dentures, too. Be careful not to press my Life Alert."

"Stop saying things that make it harder for me to stay mad at you," I grumble.

"I'm sorry."

"About what part?"

"All of it," he whispers, leaning his cheek against the top of my head. For a minute, surrounded by the booming music of the club, we sit like this. We're silent in our little bubble until it's burst by an unknown voice.

"Hey, birthday boy!" My head whips up as the blonde from the valet station beams at me and walks over to our table. "Told you I'd come looking for you." He nods towards Dante, who currently has me curled up under his arm. "I'm assuming this is the first of the suitors I have to fight off for a chance to dance with you?"

I watch Dante stare at the newcomer with absolutely no emotion, but the bulging vein in his neck betrays him. His eyes flicker to me, and I try my best to communicate that if he'd just claim me as his right now, I'd never even blink in another man's direction again.

As it turns out, my telepathy skills must be lacking, because he does the exact opposite. Eyes moving past mine to the blonde, Dante says, "Theo and I are only friends. No fighting necessary."

For a long moment, I stay locked on him, trying to ignore the sinking in my chest and the ache in my heart from his rejection. He never looks back at me.

Finally, I pry myself away from him and turn to the valet. "I never caught your name."

His smile is blinding. "Jesse. And unless you want me to continue calling you Birthday Boy…"

"Theo," I say as I force a grin, which he returns with ease.

I take his outstretched hand and slide out of the booth to stand beside him. He towers over me, an inch or two taller than Dante and much leaner. His hair, a shade of blonde that looks like a field of wheat, is styled in a loose bun, with a few strands falling out to give it a carefree vibe of controlled chaos.

Despite the wary stares from my bandmates, he remains unfazed, his attention solely focused on me as we hold hands. "Well, what do you say, Theo? Care to dance?"

The way he says my name is pure sin, smooth and dangerous.

I squeeze his hand and offer him a smile. "I'd love to dance, Jesse." And with that, I follow him on to the floor, eyes fixed straight ahead and refusing to look behind me.