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Though I’d sleep with Vex even if he had a bare mattress on the floor. Let’s face it. I’d sleep on the floor if that meant being with him.

“That freezer’s locked because of her, you know?” A handsome, muscular man with tattoos says from a seat nearby, where he’s settled with a bottle of beer in hand and two girls chatting relentlessly about something he’s not interested in.

“That’s Sage, another artist from my studio,” Vex offers before telling him my name too.

Yasmin rolls her eyes, but Sage continues as soon as the basic introductions are over. “She kept helping herself to Vex’s food, so he locked it.”

“Stingy fuck,” she mumbles while Vex just stands there, shrugging, like the sexiest Scrooge in the world.

“I stand by my decision to protect my assets from disorganized people who can’t plan for shit and forget to buy their own chicken.”

Encouraged by how they’ve just accepted my presence, I’m starting to feel more at ease. “So I won’t find his victims in there?”

“He just likes to fuck with people,” Yasmin says and opens the wine. It’s lucky that I chose a bottle with a screw cap rather than a cork, but my joy wanes when she drinks straight from the bottle rather than looking for a glass.

At least it wasn’t expensive. I might be judgmental about such manners, but I also know when to bite my tongue, and I’m desperate for Vex’s cool friends to like me.

One of the girls sitting next to Sage lights up, glancing at Vex. She’s a pretty brunette in a short black dress and heavy boots. “He can fuck with me even without a headboard.”

That was my line.

I chuckle helplessly.

Sage looks her way. “Darling, I’m down with threesomes, but no other guys involved.”

She snickers, biting her thumb. “Even if you don’t have to touch his dick?”

“Yeah, okay,” Vex says and pulls me away before picking up a can of Pepsi from an open multipack. “This is gonna bite him in the ass one day.”

“The no-men rule, or the threesomes?” I ask, confused.

“Being too much of a ladies’ man and forgetting to use rubbers,” Vex says in a low voice and sips some of his Pepsi as we gravitate back into the hallway.

I try to absorb all the information I can, still amazed that I’m at this party at all, introduced to his friends. Unless he does this with every guy he sleeps with, he must really like me. “I wish you could have tried the wine I brought. But she is the hostess after all.”

Vex shrugs. “Ah, no, that’s okay. I don’t do alcohol.”

I didn’t expect that. He seems like such a party boy in his photos. I could swear I can recall at least a few where he’s posing with a bottle of Jack Daniels, but I’m starting to realize not all is what it seems with Vex.

He leads us to the next room where he introduces me to a whole array of people to the point that I’m overwhelmed. I manage to keep it together by putting on my professional face. In moments like this I just pretend I’m the cynical, calm and collected man my clothes suggest I am, and most of the time it works out. And by ‘works out’ I mean that I don’t make friends but survive.

At one point when I get engaged in a conversation about photography with a girl who is an art student at Springton, Vex says he’ll be back in a bit and drifts off to mingle with other people.

Just two hours after my arrival, the house has swelled with people. It’s even louder than before, and while I attempt to nod and be pleasant, I’m feeling increasingly anxious. But as soon as I pour myself some wine from a bottle standing alongside many others on a table dedicated to booze, a familiar torso steps right in my line of vision.

Levi is the owner of Rainbowology Cafe, where I spend a vast portion of my time, and he seems like the perfect fit for a party full of alternative hotties. He’s in his thirties, tattooed all over, and has unruly long blond hair that somehow makes him look even cooler. I’m surprised he noticed me when there’s so many hot dudes to check out, but then again, I do line his pockets with cash every day. It only makes sense for him to acknowledge my presence.

“Didn’t expect to find you here,” he says, leaning in so we can hear one another.

I swirl the wine in my paper cup as if that could make my drink classier. “I’m not averse to parties on principle.”

“Aren’t you too young for that drink?” he asks, but he’s smirking when I meet his gaze. “Careful. You have a little bit too much, and it’ll cause stress instead of making it less noticeable.”

In the evenings, when Rainbowology turns into more of a bar, he wouldn’t sell me alcohol, which is fair, but at least he’s not trying to police me here.

I shrug. “I’m not stressed. I go to parties all the time.”

“Aaron. You’re fidgeting. It’s none of my business. I’m just saying, because you’re half my size, so just… watch out, ok?”