All Lost Things

Book 3 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries

By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026

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Chapter 16

At the sound of my voice, Caleb spun around, wide-eyed and startled. When he saw me standing there, his eyes instantly narrowed and he took on a defensive posture.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded. "Spying on me?"

I shrugged. "I was looking for you and just happened to overhear your argument with Asher."

"Cut the bullshit. You were eavesdropping."

"Maybe I was. So what? I wouldn't have heard you lying to Asher if I hadn't."

"I didn't lie."

"You told him you were having sex with Marco in the loft, but Marco specifically told me it wasn't him."

"Maybe he was lying. Did you ever think of that? Why have you taken everything he said as gospel, but you don't believe anything I say?"

"Because I don't have any reason to believe he lied to me, and you seem to be incapable of telling the truth. Don't forget that I know you were having sex with Finn in the loft."

"That doesn't mean I wasn't having sex with Marco up there, too."

He had a point. An uncomfortable one, but it was a point. "So you're saying you were cheating on Asher with both of them?"

"I wasn't cheating on anybody! I dated Marco before Asher, and Finn was just a friend."

"A fuck buddy."

"A friend I occasionally had sex with. No one ever said I was having sex with him while I was dating Asher."

"Were you?"

"That's none of your goddamned business! It's between me and Asher."

"You know what I think? I think you were juggling three guys at once, and I think you were lying and manipulating all of them."

Caleb closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and balled his fists at his sides. When his eyes reopened, they were dark with fury.

"I don't really care what you think," he growled through clenched teeth. "More importantly, neither does Asher. Why don't you just go away? Your job is done. Butt out. Asher and I will either work things out or we won't. You've interfered enough."

"But—"

"Shut up!" he screamed, taking a threatening step towards me, fist cocked. "Just shut the fuck up and leave us the hell alone!"

The sudden ferocity in his voice and his unexpected advance made me jump back. Belatedly, I realized I'd once again put myself in danger. I was alone in the barn with a possible murderer. Not only that, I'd antagonized him.

Caleb could see the glint of fear in my eyes. He shook his head in disgust. "You think I did it, don't you?"

"What? No!"

"You're a shitty liar. Why'd you even help me if you think I'm guilty?"

"I don't... I did it for Asher."

"Fuck you. Get lost!"

It was clear that it would be in my best interest if I left. The look I'd seen in Caleb's eyes had left me shaken, and even I knew I'd pushed things too far.

I slowly walked out of the barn and back to my car, only to find Asher leaning against the door wearing a furious expression. I stopped a few feet away, under his glare.

"Are you following me now?" he snarled. "Is that what it's come to?"

I had no fight left for Asher. I shook my head. "I'm sorry."

He shoved off from my car and got right in my face. "You're sorry? You're damn right you're sorry — a sorry excuse for a friend. I suppose you expect me to thank you for getting Caleb out. Or maybe I should thank you for planting doubts in my head about my boyfriend. Or what about following me around and eavesdropping on private conversations? Should I thank you for that, too?"

"I'm sorry," I repeated softly. "You won't have to worry about it anymore."

"I'd better not." He shook his head as he stepped back. "God, you're so pathetic." He started walking towards his car.

"Just be careful," I called before I could stop myself.

"Fuck off," he shot back over his shoulder.

I spent the next two days thinking about how I had ruined any chance that Asher and I could ever again be friends. Why couldn't I have just let it go? Kaplan and Novak had both told me to back off. Both had far more experience in investigations than I did, but I'd thought I knew best. Even Seth had told me to walk away and let Asher handle things for himself.

I was so busy beating myself up that I almost forgot about Micah. Luckily, he texted me Friday afternoon. "Still on for tonight?"

I was momentarily confused but then remembered our date. I quickly texted back. "Yeah, definitely. Looking forward to it."

"Great! Me too."

"So, what are we doing? What should I wear? Do you need my address?"

"Yes, I guess that would be helpful. And it's a surprise, and you should wear clothes."

"Oh come on!"

"Nope. I want tonight to be a surprise."

"At least tell me if I should dress up or be casual."

"Hmm. How about this? Dress for fun."

"Dress for fun? What does that mean?"

"You'll figure it out. What's your address?"

I sent him my address, then, "Do I at least get to know what time you're picking me up or is that a surprise too?"

"Thanks! Let's say 7. See you tonight!"

I frowned at the phone, then glanced at the clock. A flicker of nervousness crept in as I realized that, in just a few hours, I'd be going on my first official date since Asher — or really, my first real date ever. With Asher, we'd gone straight from friends to boyfriends, skipping the whole courtship phase entirely.

By the time I got home, I was in full-blown panic mode. I burst through the door, bolted upstairs, and jumped into the shower. Minutes later, wrapped in a towel, I stood in front of my closet, staring hopelessly at the rows of clothes. I still had no idea what "dress for fun" actually meant. Did I even own anything remotely fun?

I was running around trying to get ready when Adam appeared in the doorway. He leaned casually against the jamb and watched with a grin as I tripped over a pile of Kane's dirty laundry and almost dropped the towel wrapped precariously around my hips.

"What's all the excitement about? I haven't seen you this jittery in ages. You're acting like you have a date."

"Actually, I do." I dove into my closet and began throwing clothes out onto the bed. "And I have no idea what to wear."

"You do? A real date? With whom? I haven't approved!" I popped out of the closet and gave Adam a horrified look. He laughed. "I'm kidding, Killian. I don't have to approve your dates."

"Oh. In that case, his name is Micah and he's a reporter." I retreated into the closet again. "He helped me with...with Caleb's case. He asked me out." I shrugged. "I said yes."

Adam caught me by the elbow and pulled me gently out of the closet. "Calm down. Why don't you tell me about him? While you do, I'll help you pick out the perfect outfit."

He steered me towards the bed and pushed down on my shoulders until I sat on the edge.

I sighed. "Well, he's cute."

Adam chuckled as he turned towards my now disheveled wardrobe. "That's always a good start."

"He's a few years older than me."

"How much older?"

"I'm not sure," I replied with an obligatory eye roll. "I didn't ask for ID. I'd guess in his early twenties. Anyway, he has brown hair and gorgeous, dark brown eyes. His hair does this really cute floppy thing. Oh, and he has the most incredible dimples."

"Sounds adorable, but looks aren't everything. Is he a nice guy?" He held up a pair of faded jeans and a black t-shirt.

"He seems really nice. That looks a little too casual, don't you think? He said to dress fun. What does that mean?"

"Fun, huh? Let's see..." He looked through my clothes again and shook his head. "For a gay boy, you have the worst wardrobe I've ever seen. Here, these aren't bad." He handed me a pair of dark blue jeans. "And dark jeans are good for going out at night."

They were one of my favorite pairs of pants because Asher had always told me they made my ass look great. I was pleased with Adam's choice, but a little sad at the reminder of Asher.

"Put those on, and I'll be right back."

I tried to push thoughts of Asher from my mind as Adam left the room. After all, I was going out with Micah. It was time to move on.

A few minutes later, I heard Adam rummaging around up in the attic. I was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing just the jeans when he returned, slightly dusty and carrying an armful of shirts.

"These were Seth's," he said, dropping them next to me on the bed.

My breath caught in my throat. I couldn't believe he wanted me to wear Seth's clothes.

"I just couldn't give them away," he continued. "Although I have no idea why I was keeping them."

He held up the first shirt.

Instead of looking at the shirt, I studied Adam's face. He gave me a big smile, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. If he didn't think it was a big deal for me to wear his dead son's clothes, why should it bother me?

I focused on the shirt. It was a vintage lavender western shirt with darker purple embroidery and pearlescent buttons.

"I'm not wearing that."

"No, I guess it's not really your color. Or your style." He picked up the next one. It was a red, ribbed short-sleeved shirt. "Try this on."

I pulled it on and started giggling. It fit like a second skin. "I think I need to be a little more...buff to pull this off."

"You look fine, but okay, off."

"I think maybe Seth had a different style than me."

"I grabbed a few more. What about this?"

He held up a light blue pullover that I thought I remembered Seth wearing. "I like that one."

"I do too. Try it on."

I pulled it on and stood in front of the mirror. The shirt was form-fitting without being tight. Even I had to admit I looked good.

Adam confirmed my opinion. "Perfect. It brings out your eyes. I've got just the finishing touch for it, too. Come here."

I followed him into his and Steve's bedroom. As always, their room was immaculate, the bed carefully made and nothing out of place. It was furnished and decorated in antiques, all from Steve's house. Adam's old stuff had gone into storage when Steve moved in, because, well, Steve's was better.

Adam opened a small wooden chest on his dresser and pulled out a braided silver chain. He slipped it around my neck, fastening it from behind me.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. "This is beautiful, Adam."

"It was Seth's, too, although he seldom wore it. He wasn't big on jewelry. I'd...I'd like you to have it."

"Adam, I—"

"Killian, please. It's taken me two years to get to this point, where I can start letting him go. You can't even begin to know how big a role you've played in my healing process. I may have lost one son, but I gained another. Not that you replaced Seth, I don't mean that, but...well, you've been a comfort to me. I couldn't love you more if I were your biological father. I want you to take the necklace. I think Seth would want you to have it as much as I do."

I reached up and touched the chain. "Thank you," I whispered.

"Now don't go getting all blubbery. Your date will be here any minute."

My date! I'd almost forgotten why we were even playing dress up. I raced back to my room to put my shoes and socks on. I had just finished when the doorbell sounded.

"I'll get it," Kane called from downstairs.

"No! I will," I yelled, but I was too late. I was only as far as the top of the stairs when Kane swung the door open.

There was Micah, looking better than I remembered in jeans and a charcoal gray shirt as tight as the one I'd rejected earlier. He definitely had the body to make it work.

"Hi. I'm here to pick up Killian," Micah said with a grin, showing off his dimples. "You must be his little brother."

"Yeah. My name is Kane. Are you guys going on a date or something?"

"Kane!" I snapped as I started down the stairs.

Micah's eyes followed the sound of my voice and found me. His smile actually seemed to brighten, if that was possible. "This is actually our first date," he answered Kane, his eyes never leaving me. "But if tonight goes well, I'm hoping there will be more."

Kane looked up at me with a salacious smirk. "Just don't expect him to put out."

"Kane!" I screeched, flying down the last few stairs. He took off like lightning, cackling all the way.

"Don't mind him." I could feel my face heating up.

I made a mental note to kill Kane when I got home.

"It's cool. Typical little brother. Trust me, I know. Are you ready?"

"I want you to meet Adam first," I said just as Adam started down the steps. "Adam, this is Micah Gerber. Micah, this is...my dad, Adam Connelly."

Adam blinked in surprise at my introduction, but recovered quickly and extended his hand for Micah to shake. They made small talk for a few minutes before Micah flashed me an apologetic look. "I hate to be rude, but we really need to get going. We have reservations."

"We do? Where?"

"You'll have to curb that detective's curiosity," he quipped with a teasing grin. "I told you, it's a surprise." He turned back to Adam. "I hope you'll excuse us, Mr. Connelly. I don't want to be late."

Adam practically beamed. "Call me Adam, and don't let me hold you up. You guys get going." He winked at me. "And don't worry, I won't wait up."

It hadn't even occurred to me, but now I was blushing again.

"Um, yeah, thanks. See you later, Adam." I gave him a hug before following Micah out to his car, a silver, two-door sporty model.

He shocked me by actually opening my door for me. Adam gave me a thumbs-up from the porch as I climbed in, and Micah carefully shut the door behind me.

He went around and got into the driver's seat. "So, feel free to tell me if this is none of my business, but why do you and your dad have different last names, and why do you call him Adam?"

"Oh, he's not my biological father, although he's been more of a real dad than mine ever was. He took me in when my dad punched me in the face and kicked me out when he found out I was gay. Adam's son Seth...was my friend."

"Was?"

I took a deep breath. "Do you remember when a gay boy was killed in a park a few years ago?"

"I wasn't here at the time, but I've heard about it, even read the stories since it was one of the biggest things to happen in this area in decades. It was front page news at the time. Wait! Connelly. Wasn't the boy's name Connelly?"

"Yes. That was Seth."

"And you knew him?"

"I was the one who found him dead and got stabbed in the process."

"No way! You were the hero that shot the killer and saved that other kid? Your picture was all over those articles! I can't believe I didn't recognize you."

I sighed. "It's been a couple of years, and besides, it wasn't like that. I'm not a hero."

He looked over at me. "Yeah. Sorry. I, of all people, should know there's always more behind the story. So, how was it? Tell me everything about it. I mean, if you feel comfortable talking about it."

I hesitated, then shrugged. "Sure, I guess so. I'm over it for the most part. I think. Therapy works wonders."

He laughed. "If you'd rather not, it's okay. Curiosity is a professional hazard, but tonight is supposed to be special. I don't want to bring you down."

"Nah. It's okay. I don't mind."

I wasn't entirely honest. Aside from my family and my therapist, I hadn't really talked about it with anyone, so I was a bit anxious. Still, I had a feeling Micah would be a good listener, and my therapist had said that being ready to share with others was a sign of healing. So, I launched into the whole story from the beginning. It was the condensed version, but it was something. I got so wrapped up in recounting it that I didn't even notice where we were headed until we pulled into the parking lot of one of the nicest restaurants in town.

I gasped. "We're eating here?"

He flashed me a smile. "We're not just here for the view." He was out his door and opening mine before I could respond.

"Are you sure I'm not underdressed?" I asked.

"You look amazing."

Micah had reserved a table for us, and the maître d' seated us promptly. Dinner was incredible. The first thing Micah did was outlaw any discussion of Caleb's case for the night. That suited me just fine. I wanted to avoid thinking about Caleb and, by extension, Asher, as much as possible.

I learned that Micah had three younger siblings—two brothers and a sister—and that his coming out had been far smoother than mine. His family had been nothing but supportive. Both of his parents were blue-collar workers, so Micah had worked to pay his own way through college.

"What made you want to become a journalist?" I asked.

He shrugged and looked a little sheepish. "Promise not to make fun of me?"

"I promise no such thing."

Micah grinned. "Fine, but you have to tell me something embarrassing too. I've wanted to be a reporter since I was a little kid because that's what Clark Kent did."

"Superman?"

"The one and only."

"So...you couldn't get a job at the Daily Planet?"

"They weren't hiring! Can you believe it?"

"I guess becoming a superhero was out of the question so becoming a reporter was the next best thing."

He laughed. "Exactly. I just wanted to make the world a better place, and since I can't fly..."

I found myself more and more attracted to him, not just physically, but as a person as well. He seemed almost too good to be true.

"So what about you?" he said, interrupting my thoughts. "What made you decide to become a private investigator?"

"Does this count as my embarrassing confession?"

"I don't know. Is your answer embarrassing?"

"Not really."

"Then you still owe me. What's the scoop?"

"Okay, so after Seth, my cousin asked me to help out with another death — the guy who was killed at Pemberton University last year."

"That was right when I was starting here. Walters covered the story, but I was following it. A few students were killed, right?"

"Yeah, including my cousin. I'd figured out who the killer was but not in time to save him."

"Oh wow. I'm really sorry, Killian. You've been through a lot. And I keep dredging it all back up."

"No, it's okay. Like I said, seeing a therapist has really helped with the whole blame game."

"Okay, so pardon a really rude question, but why on earth would you still want to be an investigator after all that?"

"Because I want to prevent something like that from happening again. And, well, not to toot my own horn, but I think I'm pretty good at it. Or I will be when I learn more. And, like you said, I want to make the world a better place. I want to help people."

A big smile spread across his face. "And since you can't fly..."

"I'm no superman."

"I dunno. I think you're pretty super."

I felt like my heart skipped a beat. Could the night get any better?

He paid for dinner and then led me down to the beach to watch the sunset. We strolled along the sand, just above the water line, still talking and getting to know each other. As we walked, our hands brushed a few times and then, almost without my realizing it, his hand took mine.

The sun dipped below the horizon in a breathtaking explosion of color — streaks of pink, orange, yellow, and lavender spreading across the sky like brushstrokes on a canvas.

Micah suggested we sit and watch the stars come out, so we settled onto one of the stone jetties, him behind me with his arms wrapped loosely around my waist. I leaned back against his chest, enjoying the closeness of his body and the scent of his cologne.

It was a beautiful night for stargazing. The sky was clear, and each star stood out brightly. We spent a while pointing out constellations. Suddenly Micah jumped up and reached his hand down to me. "Time for phase two."

"Phase two?"

"Well, I guess it's really phase three. Phase one was dinner, two was the walk on the beach, and now it's time for three."

"And what is phase three?"

"You'll see."

"Come on! Haven't I been surprised enough for one night?"

He laughed. "Okay, okay. Do you like to dance?"

"Dance?"

"Yeah, you know, moving your body rhythmically to the beat of music?"

"I've never actually been dancing."

"Well, you're about to go now."

I started to protest but the words died on my lips. It had been a great evening so far, and I didn't want to spoil it now by being a dork.

We pulled up to an unassuming two-story brick building on the outskirts of town. A small sign above the entrance read The Inferno. If I'd been driving past, I wouldn't have even noticed it or, if I had, I would have assumed it was a warehouse or something.

Micah jumped out of the car as soon as it stopped rolling. I moved a little slower. I was very nervous, having never danced in my entire life — not counting slow dances with Asher. I'd never attended school dances. Asher and I had chosen not to make an issue of being the first out gay couple at school, and neither of us wanted to go with anyone else.

I hung back, but Micah grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the door, where a very large, very square woman was perched on a stool behind a sturdy podium.

"Hey, Carmen," Micah greeted her.

"Micah!" she boomed.

Her voice was surprisingly deep. Her hair was an enormous helmet of frosty blonde, and she was wearing enough makeup to keep MAC in business for the next year or so. Her tight, sequined dress strained at the seams, while the largest pair of high heeled shoes I had ever seen graced the skis she called feet. Miniature mirror balls hung from her ears. She looked as though her usual expression resulted from something between biting a lemon and constipation, but her face had creased into a broad smile when she saw my date.

"You look smashing tonight, darling," Micah told her.

"And you look good enough to eat, as usual. So introduce me. Who's your little friend here — emphasis on 'little'?" She looked me over in a manner that made me feel a bit like a steak.

"His name is Killian, and you can keep your paws off. He's my date tonight."

Her already arched eyebrows soared even higher. "So you're robbing the cradle these days?"

"He's not that young, Carmen. He's legal, but I will encourage you not to ask for ID. Do me a favor? Please?" He batted his eyelashes so hard I was afraid he might pull a muscle.

"Hmph, and when have you ever done a favor for me?"

"Hey, nobody knows what you do for a day job, right?"

She pursed her lips. "You always gotta bring that up, don'cha. Smacks of blackmail, if you ask me. Get in before I change my mind. And make sure you both behave."

"You know me, Carmen. I always behave."

"Ha!"

Micah grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me through the heavy metal door. We went from total quiet outside to complete chaos inside. Fog billowed, multicolored lights flashed, a strobe pulsated, voices yelled, glasses clinked, raucous laughter rang out, and above it all, music blasted — a heavy, throbbing beat that made it almost impossible to stand still.

I managed.

Scattered throughout the room were pillars that stopped around eye level. At first glance, it seemed like flames were flickering atop each one, but I quickly realized it was just gauzy fabric billowing upwards, illuminated by orange, yellow, and red lights. The effect was surprisingly convincing.

Once my eyes adjusted, I noticed that nearly all the dancers were male. More than a few had their shirts off, sweat glistening on their skin.

I was in my first gay club.

Micah, still holding me by the wrist, paid the cover charge to a guy sitting by the door, then dragged me around the perimeter of the dance floor, where it was slightly less crowded. He led me to a metal staircase rising up to a broad catwalk that went around the perimeter and overlooked the dance floor. There was a bar at each corner, and high, round stainless steel tables with stools were set up at intervals. Most of the tables were full.

There were more guys up on the balcony, dancing, making out, or leaning on the railing watching the spectacle below.

I was in awe.

Micah snagged us a table just as it was being vacated by a couple of guys wearing bright makeup, body glitter, and not much else. "Wait here," he yelled over the din.

I sat on one of the stools and continued to look around in wonderment, feeling the way Alice must have felt when she fell down the rabbit hole. I was startled from my open-mouthed awe by a shirtless, smooth Latino guy sliding onto the stool across from me.

"This ain't no nursery school, sweetie," he said in a faint Hispanic accent. He was very attractive, and his sexy smile caused my already racing heart to speed up a little faster. "How'd you get in here?"

"I'm with a friend."

"Oh, so you got connections. They're good to have. You're a real cutie pie. You'd better be careful, though. Some of these guys eat boys like you for breakfast. Literally. If you wanna dance, look for me. I won't be hard to find. I'm the best damn dancer in this place."

"Like I said, I'm with someone, but thanks."

He shrugged — a graceful movement that caused all sorts of muscles to slide around under his bronzed skin. "Don't mean you can't dance with me. Just ask for Miguel. Everybody knows Miguel."

"Yeah, and most of them have slept with him at least once," Micah growled as he reappeared next to the table. "I believe that's my seat."

Miguel looked at him with a curled lip. "Ah, is it my fault everybody wants me? I do what I can to spread a little happiness. If I knew you only liked little boys I wouldn't have wasted my time with you." He turned back to me with a smoldering look in his dark eyes. "When you get tired of this one — and trust me, you will — come find me. I'll show you a good time like you ain't never seen before." With that, he hopped down off the stool and sashayed his way down the catwalk, a supermodel at home on his runway.

"Friend of yours?" I asked as Micah settled on the stool Miguel had just vacated.

"I wouldn't go that far." Micah slid a glass across the table to me. I eyed it suspiciously, and he laughed. "I'm not trying to get you drunk. It's just a soda."

Feeling foolish, I grinned and took a sip. "So, what's the story with you and Miguel?"

"There is no story, and that's his problem. He went after me. I said no. The end. He doesn't get told no very often. Was he trying to pick you up?"

"I dunno. Maybe. I don't have a lot of experience with getting picked up. He told me to be careful, that these guys eat boys like me for breakfast."

Micah made a face. "At least he was telling the truth there." He took a sip from his glass.

"What are you drinking?"

"I'm of age," he said vaguely. "You want to dance?"

I looked out over the dance floor and blushed. "I don't think I can do that."

He laughed. "Just have fun. Move to the music, feel it. It doesn't matter what you look like, no one will be watching you."

"You will."

"I don't count."

"I think you do."

"Well, I want to dance, so come on."

"If you want someone who can dance, there's always Miguel."

Swatting at me playfully, he jumped down from the stool, went to the rail, and looked over the mass of gyrating bodies.

I glanced at his glass, which was still three-quarters full. I decided that if I was going to dance out there, I would need the fortification, so I grabbed the glass and threw it back. I gasped as it burned its way down my throat, leaving a warm trail behind it. After the initial shock, I decided it wasn't that bad. In fact, it was kind of nice.

I joined Micah at the rail. "Okay. I think I'm ready now."

"Great, let me get my drink."He turned to the table, only to find his glass empty. His gaze shifted from the glass to me, and when he saw my sheepish expression, he burst out laughing. "Are you really that nervous?" I nodded, and he took my hand, guiding me toward the stairs. "First times can be scary, but I promise I'll be gentle," he said, locking eyes with me, his smile warm and reassuring.

I allowed him to lead me onto the dance floor. At first, I just stood there awkwardly as Micah began to dance around me. His hands trailed across my body and finally settled around my hips. He started moving me around, swiveling my hips and forcing me to move. I giggled and let him guide me.

"Come on, loosen up, have fun," he purred into my ear.

His breath tickled, and I giggled again.

I don't know if it was the closeness of his body, the atmosphere, or the alcohol —I'd never drunk hard liquor before — but whatever it was, I felt my inhibitions slowly melting away. I began to dance, stiffly at first, and then gradually I became more and more comfortable. I tried to imitate Micah's movements and those of the guys around me. I must have been doing okay, because Micah seemed to be having a good time.

As the night progressed, my dancing got noticeably better. Or maybe it was just the sips I kept stealing from Micah's glass. I had several more guys ask me to dance, and Miguel made another appearance. I turned them all down. Micah became more and more physical until we were practically grinding on the dance floor — not that we were alone in that. Plenty of others were doing the same, if not more.

Finally, he pulled me in close and yelled, "Are you ready to leave?"

I was having fun, but I was also sweaty and exhausted. I nodded, and we started threading our way towards the door.

As we stepped outside and I breathed in the comparatively cool fresh air, I realized just how hot and stuffy it was inside. The sudden quiet was equally surprising. I felt as if my ears were stuffed with cotton.

"Wow, it really is an inferno in there," I gasped, and Micah laughed.

"I see you survived, and even made it back out with the same one you went in with," Carmen commented, a puff of cigarette smoke punctuating each word. "That's unusual for you, Romeo."

"Very funny, Carmen. You know, you should be on stage instead of at the door."

"At my age? Honey, I'm just happy to not have varicose veins. You two kids have fun now, and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That leaves us a lot of leeway."

"You know it."

As we walked to the car, I asked Micah about Carmen. "What did you mean earlier when you said no one knew what her day job is?"

Micah laughed again. "It's a big mystery around the Inferno. Only a few people know who she really is. She always shows up here in full drag."

I frowned. "What do you mean, 'full drag'?"

He gave me a look. "You do know what a drag queen is, don't you?"

My eyes grew wide. "You mean that was a man?"

Micah laughed. "I can't believe you didn't know. And if that shocks you, man, if you knew what she did during the day..."

"Tell me!"

"Nope. Sorry. I made her a promise."

"How'd you find out?"

"By accident. Well, actually, just by being observant. I thought I recognized her. I did some digging, and it turned out I was right." He unlocked the car and opened my door for me again. I could really get used to that.

"Now my curiosity is killing me," I whined, once we were both buckled in and on the road.

"Sorry. I forgot you're as nosy as I am. Tell you what, promise to go out with me again sometime, and I'll tell you on our second date."

"You are good at blackmail, aren't you?" I pretended to think about it. "It's a deal. But only for the intel."

Micah grinned. "Whatever it takes."

"For the record, I would have gone out with you again without the extortion."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I've had a really great time tonight."

He looked over at me and smiled. "Good. I'm glad. I have, too. I don't want it to end."

"Me either."

"You want to see my place before I take you home?"

"I'd love to. Where do you live?"

"Well, it's a little out of the way, but it's not a big deal. Do you have to be home at any certain time?"

I made a face. "I'm eighteen, Micah. I don't have a curfew."

Technically, Adam and I had never discussed curfews since it hadn't been an issue. I was always either at Asher's house or he was at ours, so everyone knew where we were pretty much at all times. Adam had said he wouldn't wait up though. Didn't that imply there was no curfew?

"Hey, I had a curfew until I moved out. If my parents had their way, I'd still have one."

"Adam trusts me. I'll just text him."

"It's cool that you and Adam have that kind of relationship."

"Adam's the best. I don't know what I would have done without him. God only knows where I'd be."

"Let's not get too bogged down."

He deftly turned the conversation to music as he handed me his phone and told me to find something I liked. I picked through his eclectic collection and chose a fun pop album, but we didn't pay it much attention. We talked over the music until we pulled into the parking lot of his apartment. It was modern — no more than a couple of years old from the looks of it — with lots of tinted glass and concrete.

As we rode the elevator up to his floor in silence, I began to rethink this move. Was it really such a good idea? I was pretty inexperienced when it came to dating but even I knew going back to the guy's apartment usually implied sex. Then again, Micah had been nothing but a perfect gentleman all night, why expect anything different now? Of course, we'd been around people all night, and here we'd be all alone.

What if he tried something? Would I mind if he did? Maybe I even hoped he would. I liked him. He'd even managed to keep me from thinking about Asher all night.

Except now I was thinking about Asher. He and I never went all the way when we were dating. We'd done just about everything else two guys could possibly do except intercourse. Not that Asher hadn't wanted to. I just never felt like I was ready. But I had to lose my virginity eventually. Why not with Micah?

The elevator stopped and Micah stepped out to unlock his door. I followed him in and looked around while he turned lights on and picked up a couple of stray glasses that he'd left out around the living room.

"Sorry it's a mess. I wasn't expecting us to come back here tonight. Would you like something to drink?" He backed away towards the kitchen area, which was separated from the rest of the room by a bleached wood bar.

"It's not a mess. It's very nice. What were you drinking at the Inferno?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I meant something more along the lines of soda or water."

I shrugged. "Whatever you have will be fine."

He smiled and turned around. "I think you could use some water."

I continued looking over the room. He'd tastefully arranged his black leather furniture with Art Deco accents. The walls were decorated with vintage movie posters in thin black frames. The room ended with floor-to-ceiling glass windows and a sliding door that led to a balcony. I made my way over to the door and looked out at the view.

"Nice, isn't it?" Micah commented from close behind me. I jumped slightly, and he smiled as he placed a glass in my hand. He reached around me, unlocked the door, and slid it back. "Go on out. I'll be right there."

I did as he invited and walked out onto the balcony. It was small, but since the only furnishings were two wooden deck chairs and a small round table, it didn't feel cramped. The night was beautiful, not too humid, and in the low 80s, on the cool side for summer in Maryland. I leaned against the rail and sipped my water.

Soft music suddenly filled the air, and I recognized the sultry tones of Etta James singing "At Last." I knew her voice and the music right away. I'd grown up with an appreciation of blues and jazz. It was a favorite of my mom's, and Steve and Adam had a large collection of recordings.

Micah appeared at my side. "Care to dance?"

I looked at him with a lazy smile, content just standing there with him. "We haven't danced enough for one night?"

"This will be a little different." He pulled me away from the railing and took the glass from my hand, setting it on the table. Then he drew me in close, slid his arms around my waist, and started swaying to the music. I melted into him, slipping my arms around his neck and nestling my face against his shoulder. We fit perfectly.

We swayed in a slow circle on his balcony, wrapped in the glow from his apartment. I found myself reconsidering my stance on more dancing. It suddenly didn't seem so bad after all.

"I've really enjoyed being with you tonight, Killian," he whispered into my hair.

"Ditto." My voice was somewhat muffled by his shoulder.

He pulled back slightly and raised a hand to my face, stroked my cheek for a minute, then ever so gently lifted my chin. His eyes looked into mine, seeking permission. I leaned in and brought my lips to his. The kiss started out as soft as the touch of a feather, but things heated up quickly.

I don't know how long we stood there, just kissing, but I knew what I wanted to do. I broke away and looked deep into his eyes. "Can I stay tonight?"

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