1 Chapter 1

1

It was a hole in the wall sort of place.

The kind with sticky floors and wobbly tables and plastic cups. Even with a jukebox and a pool table and a stage, it was still a hole in the wall.

All in all, this wasn’t the worst bar Colin Hunt had been to, but it did come in the top five, at least. He’d later claim that he was dragged there which was only partially true. Shaun did interrupt him working on a project and didn’t give him much time to get ready; which was why Colin’s hands and jeans and shirt were splattered with paint. But in all honesty, Colin didn’t mind being in places like this. They had character—history in the walls, secrets in the corners, leftover whispers from countless years of bodies pressed against them.

“So, is this band any good?”

Colin’s eyes trailed over the instruments on the stage again. Patiently waiting to be used, sat a guitar, a bass—both on stands and covered in various stickers—and a microphone stand sans microphone. The sheet pinned up on the wall behind it gently flapped in the friendly breezes of the ceiling fans and boasted the name of the bar.

“Dunno.” Shaun ran his index finger around the rim of his cup. “Chick from my four o’clock class told me about them. She’s the drummer, I think.”

They were, supposedly, there to check out the band playing tonight. Shaun had told them about the show—Colin and their friend, Liz, still at the bar buying herself a drink. He’d not mentioned anything about a drummer, though.

“Thought it’d be cool to check ‘em out.” Shaun, a bit of sweat gleaming off his tawny, brown skin, stopped fidgeting with his cup and finally took a drink. His warm, earthy brown eyes lifted to meet Colin’s. “And, y’know, notstay cooped up on a Friday night.”

Colin scoffed. “You act like I wantto be cooped up. Not my fault this semester’s been brutal.”

Nothing but the truth. Colin’s first semester trying to earn his Masters of Fine Arts had started off brutal and continued on the same downward trajectory. School combined with the added attempts at working a few nights a week in the campus’ coffee shop gave Colin very little downtime. Enter Shaun Thomas: best friend and subtle reminder-er that Colin needed to take some time to relax.

They’d met when Colin went to his first campus party and drank way too much. He could barely even get himself back to his building, but somehow, a mystery he still hadn’t solved, he’d managed. What he hadn’t managed was getting into the right room and when Shaun came in the next morning, he found a half-naked, very hungover white boy in his bed.

After being chased out and spending a day with his head in a toilet, Colin tracked Shaun down and apologized profusely, completely mortified by the mistake. They’d been friends ever since

“Yeah, yeah.” Shaun waved him off. “We all know you’d ditch us all to hole up in some studio with your paints so you can make out with them.”

“Who’s Colin making out with now?” Liz asked as she joined them, drink in hand and lips pursed in a grin. “Anyone I know?”

“Hey!” Colin exclaimed. “I haven’t made out with someone in, like, what’s today?”

Liz blew a raspberry and shook her head, her long, blonde ponytail swaying back and forth. Her cheeks, as always, had a rosy tinge under her ivory skin, almost as if she’d just run a mile

“Still don’t get how a skinny little shrimp like you gets so much booty.” Shaun shook his head as though actually slighted by this. “What’s your secret, man?”

With a chuckle, Colin shrugged, adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses, and took a sip of his drink. Just barely reaching above five feet tall and weighing a little over a hundred pounds, Colin was used to his friends’ teasing.

People usually took one look at him—more so when he was younger—and saw the obvious. The short. The skinny. The scrawny. He’d learned a long time ago that what he lacked in size he needed to make up for in personality. Colin liked to believe he’d mastered that art, which was why the friends he made were friends he kept.

Maybe he enjoyed a good hook-up over a committed relationship, but he never lied about that. As far as Colin knew there’d never been bad blood between him and any of his former lovers.

“It’s the eyes,” Liz said. “Totally endearing. Innocent.”

“What?” he asked. “Whose eyes?”

“Yours,” she said. She took hold of Colin’s chin. Gave it a squeeze and a shake. “Those baby blues are why you’re so irresistible. And it’s all a big fat lie because there is nothinginnocent about you.”

Colin laughed. They’d dated a long time ago. High-school-long-time-ago. If that even counted anymore, considering that was back during freshman year. Ninth grade hardly seemed to count, even if they did make out a lot. One drunken rendezvous their first year in college didn’t count either.