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at his side was Pax, who looked exactly the same as always. He was a skinnier, blonder, younger version of Alexander Skarsgård, but he was California born and bred. He sounded like a surfer dude.
    “Austin!” Pax exclaimed over the din of the music and then crushed him in a hug. Pax was sweaty too, but not unpleasantly stinky. Austin took a good sniff before they broke the hug. Then Pax grinned wickedly at him and Austin remembered the very creative ways the guy could use his pretty mouth. He also remembered that Pax was hung like a stallion.
    “Dance?” Pax asked.
    “Sure.”
    Randy tagged along, and the three of them sort of writhed together until a twink with glittery eye makeup and spiked black hair lured Randy away. That left Pax and Austin, and their dancing soon was as close as you could get to sex without taking any clothes off. Austin wasn’t surprised—it had happened when they’d danced together in the past. And when Pax grabbed his hand and dragged him down the hall, Austin was again unsurprised as this had been their usual thing too.
    The music was muffled in the bathroom, which was a plus because the band wasn’t very good. The lighting was dim—whether to give the occupants some privacy or to camouflage the questionable cleanliness of the place, Austin wasn’t sure. He didn’t have time to think about it anyway as Pax towed him into a stall, kicked the door shut, and immediately began pawing at the button on Austin’s tight jeans.
    Once the damn jeans were undone, the rest was easy, the steps as predictable as dancing. Austin and Pax had done this before. It was a familiar transaction, like filling up your car’s gas tank. Austin leaned against the wall, jacking himself while Pax quickly lubed him and then began thrusting. They both grunted, joining the chorus of similar noises that echoed around the bathroom—other guys fucking or sucking each other in stalls or near the urinals and sinks. And even as Austin’s balls tightened, it occurred to him that he and Pax had uttered a total of three words to each other tonight. Austin didn’t know where Pax had been for the past couple of years, assuming he hadn’t just been lying low in town. Austin didn’t know what Pax did to pay the bills, whether he actually knew how to surf, whether he was aware of his resemblance to a certain Swedish actor. Austin didn’t even know if Pax was the guy’s real name.
    Pax came with a groan, and then Austin came too. The earth did not move.
    A moment later Pax dropped the used rubber into the toilet and zipped himself up. “Back to the dance floor, dude?”
    “Nah. I’m gonna call it a night.”
    Seemingly unconcerned, Pax shrugged. “’Kay. Later.” He left the bathroom without looking back—and without washing his hands, which was gross.
    Austin washed and then pushed past a pair of guys who appeared to be trying to swallow each other’s tongues. Making his way to Edge’s exit was even more difficult, as he pushed and squirmed past dancers and evaded grabby hands. When he finally got outside, the cool air felt blissful, and the relative quiet was even better. He walked a half block to a Thai restaurant that had long since closed up for the night, and he leaned back against the wall, trying to clear his head.
    But his thoughts insisted on zooming around his brain like one of Kyle’s horrifying blender drinks. His stomach spun too, and for several moments, he thought he might puke. But although he got the nausea under control eventually, his head continued to be a mess. He didn’t think his drinking was to blame.
    Taxis trolled slowly in front of Edge this time of night, so he didn’t have any problem catching a ride home. When he got to the apartment, Rob was sitting on the couch, surrounded by empty food wrappers. The light from the TV flickered off his face. “Having a good night?” he asked without turning his gaze from the screen.
    “Uh, no. Not really.”
    “Wanna hit?” Rob held up his