"Here you go." The bartender slides two drinks our way.

  "Thanks," I say, picking up the glass with my other hand and taking a long sip of my gin and tonic.

  Ulysses crowds me in. "Nothing my ass. It's the bracelet he gave you, isn't it?"

  My face betrays me, and I smile. I raise the glass to cover my lips. "Maybe."

  Ulys chuckles. "You've always been so coy about your mystery guy. What went down that night?" He chuckles a little harder. "Or, wait, should that be who went down that night?"

  "No one went down on anyone that night," I reply flatly.

  And ain't that the truth.

  I've shared some of the details about that night with Ulys and the other guys, always keeping the most mortifying part to myself. My cheeks still flush with embarrassment at the memory of me blowing my load after a few strokes and making a huge mess all over Draxl's arm. Totally killed my chances of anything more happening.

  The poor guy couldn't get away fast enough, feeding me some line about having a headache. As much as I knew he was telling me the truth about being interested in me, I could tell his headache excuse was totally made up.

  Then he did the weirdest thing, something I'll never forget. Right before he took off, he pulled out a clump of long hair from his ponytail. He didn't wince in pain, didn't react at all, to pulling his hair out. How is that freaking possible?

  And then he tied it up around my wrist, somehow managing to lock it into place before telling me it was a way for us to stay connected.

  With his hair.

  That he magically turned into a bracelet right in front of me.

  And then, just when I thought shit couldn't get any weirder…shit got weirder.

  He started running, but before he could make his getaway, there was a bright flash of light and he was gone.

  Gone.

  Like, he totally disappeared.

  Vanished into thin air.

  Leaving no trace.

  The splashes of silver faded shortly after, and I was left standing there, heart in my throat, my cock still dripping, with no idea what the hell I'd just witnessed.

  Kinda hard to move on after something like that.

  Ulysses clears his throat, smirking into his drink, and I realize I must've drifted off. He turns to face me. "I know you pride yourself on not needing anyone, and you have all your control issues, but it's okay to admit you like the guy."

  "I can admit I like the guy just fine." I take a swig of gin. "And I do not have control issues."

  "You do. You never let anyone in, never allow yourself to lean on someone, be the one to get help instead of giving it." Ulysses smiles at me kindly. "Burls, that's a control issue."

  "Yeah, well, maybe you're right," I concede. He's known me since I was eight, so I can't deny he might have some insight into my inner workings.

  "Hey, I'm not judging you. After our childhoods and the shit we went through, believe me, you have every right to be like this. It's a miracle we turned out as well as we did."

  "Well, I did." I grin at him. "Don't know if I can say the same about you."

  Ulysses chuckles. As I take another sip, I get a sudden chill and goosebumps pebble over both arms. "Remember that nightmare I used to have as a kid?"

  "I do. It started in our second foster home, right?"

  "It did. That family was fucked."

  Ulys's jaw clenches at the horrific things we endured there. "Massively fucked. But we got through it." He reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze. "Just like I told you we would."

  I give him a smile in return. Ulys and I aren't brothers, but we were both fostered by the same two families for five painfully long years between the ages of eight and thirteen.

  The first family was fine, I guess, but after a year, they pulled the plug on the arrangement. Somehow, luckily, we got transferred to another family together. I was overjoyed, but the happiness was short-lived.

  We both suffered at the hands of Mr. James, a horrible, drunk, abusive man. Ulys copped the brunt of it to spare me.

  When we were split up at thirteen and rehomed with different families in different parts of the state, Ulysses promised me we'd be together again as soon as we could live on our own.

  True to his word, when we turned eighteen, we found each other again, left shithole Missouri, and headed to the bright lights of the Big Apple.

  We don't speak about that time in our lives very often. It's too painful, and I know Ulysses is still scarred by the things we endured.

  "You okay, Burls? You're…drifting a lot tonight."

  "Am I?" I drum my fingers against the edge of the bar. "Just thinking about stuff."

  "The nightmare?"

  "Huh?"

  "You said something about the nightmare you used to have as a kid. That's the one where you'd wake up and the world had ended?"

  "Yeah," I say, trying to harness my thoughts into something semi-coherent. I shudder, recollecting the nightmare that plagued me night after night as a kid. "It was freaky. I'd wake up in the dream, and it would be a beautiful day. The sky was a shade of dark, deep blue, unlike anything I'd ever seen. I'd be walking down the street of some big city. All the windows in the buildings were covered, totally blacked out. And there'd be no cars, no people, no movement at all. It was just me in this creepy, still silence. And then this feeling would creep in. Something was wrong. Something had happened. I didn't know what. I started calling out, searching for people. I ran into buildings and shops and cafes, one after the other, but no matter where I went, everywhere was completely deserted. Not a single living soul around for miles. After some time, I realized…the world had ended, and I was the only person left alive in the entire universe."

  "That's freaky, man."

  "That's not the freaky part." I throw back the rest of my drink. "The real freaky shit was how totally calm I was in the dream. That's what panicked me the most when I'd wake up from it. The eerie sense that the world had ended, and for some reason, it barely rattled me. I was completely fine with it."

  "You've always been cool-headed," Ulys says, smiling warmly. "Nothing ever gets you down. Look how you handle the five of us like a boss."

  "True."

  "You're a miracle worker," he adds. "And if the world ever does end, you're definitely someone I'd want to have around."

  "Thanks? I think. But I don't think the world's ending anytime soon."

  "What prompted you to bring up the nightmare?"

  "Well." I turn to face him. "I haven't had the dream since I was thirteen. Until two years ago. The night before I met Draxl."

  "Okay. And?"

  "And." I take a deep breath. "I had it again last night."

  I see the cogs turning in his head. "So…you think the dream is a sign you'll see this Draxl dude again?"

  I spin around, leaning my elbows against the counter, taking in the party. "I don't know what it means."

  We stand in silence for a few minutes. I do my best to shake the uneasy feeling, but it's no use. It's burrowed its way under my skin.

  "Come on." Ulys taps my arm. "We should probably get back to the children. We've left them alone for long enough."

  "Yeah, we have."

  We quickly grab another drink and rejoin the group.

  The next few hours pass by with the usual mix of banter, a constant stream of people coming up to speak with the Fab Five, and me sitting in the corner, watching.

  Waiting.

  For… I don't know what.

  I'm probably being silly. What am I honestly expecting to happen? For Draxl to miraculously turn up out of the blue just because I randomly had a childhood nightmare last night? The same nightmare I had right before he showed up two years ago and then disappeared without a trace.

  I should know better. I do know better.

  So why am I holding on to this stubborn bit of hope that I'll see him again? Why would he even bother returning? I bet he only ever thinks of me when he tells someone the story about the time he met a loser who blew his wad in under ten seconds.

  My cheeks flush with humiliation at the memory. And maybe with a bit of resentment, too. Because I've tried looking for Draxl, but on the flipside, has he looked for me?

  That would be a hard no.

  It wouldn't have been that hard for him to find me if he'd cared enough to bother. He knew I was linked to the Fab Five. A cursory Google search would've brought up their team of managers, PR folk, and their one, joint assistant.

  Me.

  I'm on all the socials, so he could have easily tracked me down and reached out to say hi. Asked if we wanted to catch up again. Given me a proper chance to apologize for coming all over him.

  But nope. Nothing. I haven't heard a peep from him, which means I'm the idiot for letting him live in my head all this time later. It's time to face facts. He's gone, and I'm never going to see him again.

  "Hey, Burls."

  I glance up at Ulysses calling me. All the gang is looking at me. The hangers-on have cleared out, so it's just us.

  "We were thinking—" he starts.

  "Thanks for the warning," I tease.

  Ulys goes to say something, but before he can, there's a bright flash, like a strobe.

  "Cameras." Edge growls instinctively, reacting immediately as everyone looks around, seeking out the culprit. "Who the fuck is taking photos of us?"

  The gang is super sensitive to having their privacy invaded. These after-parties are meant to be a safe space for them, strictly no-pap affairs.

  "No one's taking photos," I say, my mouth drying up. "It wasn't a camera." I remember that flashy silvery light. I saw it once before, right before—

  "Fuck!"

  I can't tell which of the guys cries out because the flashes return. This time there's a whole bunch of them in a row, appearing and disappearing in quick succession all around us. The six of us scramble to our feet, huddling in a small circle.

  The air around us starts crackling and hissing, and I feel a pressure building in my ribs, like I'm being pinched from the inside.

  I've somehow ended up in the middle of the circle. Courtland and Rigsby have latched onto my shoulders. Manning's clamped down onto my left arm. I've got a hold of Edge, and Ulysses's already tight grip on my forearms increases even more as a whooshing sound rises, invading my eardrums, getting louder and louder until it's the only thing I can hear.

  The six of us cling to each other as we get lifted off the ground. My belly dips with that yucky feeling I get on a roller coaster. I think I'm about to lose my lunch when the flashes intensify, oscillating so fast I get dizzy.

  My head goes heavy. Or light. I can't tell anymore.

  All I can hear is the loud torrent of whooshing, and all I see is silver and black, silver and black, over and over again. Something slams into my back, and we all get flung forward.

  A jolt of adrenaline shoots through me, and then…everything stops.

  I awake with a start, my chest on fire, gasping for air.

  I'm standing, but I can't open my eyes. I try to blink but the lids are too heavy. Scalding hot air whips around me, burning the exposed skin on my face, neck, arms, and legs.

  I have no idea where I am or what the fuck just happened, but I've survived. I'm breathing. So that's a plus.

  I can't see shit, though, my eyes remaining stubbornly glued together. That's a con.

  I do a quick scan of my body, checking for any signs of pain, injury, or if anything's broken. My fingers wriggle by the sides of my body, I roll my shoulders, and I'm able to take a step forward. A wobbly step, but a step nonetheless. I even manage to stay upright. Bonus.

  Okay, now what?

  I need to regain my vision. It's going to be near impossible to do anything without that. I lift my arms. They're heavy, like they're being held down with weights, and the movement feels…distant. Have I been drugged?

  It takes longer than it normally would for my hands to reach my face. When they do, I rub my eyes in an attempt to pry them open. A galaxy of yellow stars infiltrates the darkness.

  With my eyes still closed, I try blinking. Eventually, there's a small twitch. I keep blinking determinedly, and they start to flutter. My eyelids remain way heavier than eyelids have any right to be, but my eyes continue opening up. Through the brief openings, I catch tiny glimpses of sandy yellow and bright blue.

  My eyes open up some more. I roll my neck and blink hard a few times. It seems to do the trick, bringing my vision back.

  I'm in a…desert, I guess? Miles of empty, sandy nothingness stretches out as far as I can see. I look up. The sky's a perfect blue, not a cloud to be seen. It's oddly familiar, like I've seen this same shade of sky somewhere before. My brain's too hazy to place it, though.

  I run my fingers over the soft white material covering my chest. What was I wearing before? Wasn't it a long-sleeved shirt? I can't remember, but now I'm in a white T-shirt.

  My mind's still trapped in a fog, which may actually be a good thing. If I were clearheaded, I'd be driving myself crazy trying to figure out what just happened and where the fuck I am.

  I glance up at the sun, squint, and then look away. It's high in the sky, sending searing hot rays down onto me. I drag my hand over my exposed arm. It's already going pink from the exposure.

  My throat is parched and sucking in bursts of hot air isn't helping, but what else can I do? I bury my mouth into the crook of my elbow and hope that offers some relief. It doesn't.

  A soft groan reaches my ears from somewhere behind me and to the right. I turn in that direction. I drop my elbow from my mouth. "Holy shit."

  I want to race over as fast as I can to the five bodies of my friends strewn about on the hot desert sand, but my legs don't cooperate. They're heavy, rigid lumps of clay. The best I can manage is a medium-paced walk. Frustrated, I grab my legs to see if it'll make me move any quicker. It doesn't.

  As I cross the thirty or so feet to where my boys are, I spot a massive tree to their right.

  All right, game plan time.

  First, I make sure they're alive and uninjured. Second, I get us out of the scorching sun and under that shady tree.

  Ulysses is lying closest to me, so I reach him first. He's rolling around on the ground, groaning, but it seems to be more from disorientation than pain. I think. I crouch down next to him. "Ulys, Ulys, can you hear me?"

  His head stops bobbing, and he turns to face me. "Burls." His voice is scratchy, probably dried out from this insane heat.

  "Yeah, it's me."

  "What happened?"

  "I have no fucking idea."

  A small smile lifts his lips. "Always wanted to be with you when the world ended."

  "The world hasn't—" I stop because I'm not entirely sure how to finish that sentence. Has the world ended? I shake my head. "We don't know what's going on, but yes, it's good that we're together. Can you move?"

  He looks down at his body. There are drowsy signs of physical response, fingers twitching, feet moving. That's good. He's like I was a few minutes ago, which means that he should, in time, come out of whatever body haze we've been subjected to.

  I glance over to the others. They're slowly stirring to life, too.

  "What the fuck edible did you give me, Courts?" I hear Rigsby ask.

  "Dunno." Courts sounds just as out of it as Rigsby.

  "Guys. It's me," I call out.

  "God?"

  "You can call me that if you like, Manning. I also go by Burleigh Williams. Or Burls."

  "Ohhhh… Burleigghhhh." Rigsby tries to lift his head, but it's too much movement, and he drops back down onto the sand with a heavy thud. "Hey, man. Do you know anything about the edible Courts gave me?"

  "You're not having a trip," I say loud enough for them all to hear. "Something weird has happened, and we've all landed here."

  "And where is here?" Edge asks, carefully propping himself onto his elbows, shaking his head out, managing to look as broody as ever.

  "That I don't know," I answer.

  "Need coffee," Courts grumbles. "Is there a Starbucks anywhere?"

  "Are we even on Earth?"

  "Why am I wearing a white shirt? I never wear white."

  "Are we positive this isn't a THC trip?"

  "Guys!" I yell since they're all rambling at once. "All of you, shut up and get up. We have to get to that tree and out of the sun or else we'll burn."

  "He's right," Manning concurs, slowly lifting one arm. "I've got one-eighth New England blood running through these veins. I do not tan well."

  Rigsby rocks his head from left to right, slowly coming to. "God, I hope I tanned evenly, otherwise I'll have to book a session at the salon when we get back."

  Beside me, Ulysses rolls his eyes and gestures that he's ready to stand. At least I can rely on my bestie for some normality. I extend my arm, his palm slides into mine, and I help him get to his feet.

  "Whatever the fuck we just went through," he says when he's on his feet, "it hasn't cured these dumb-dumbs of their dumbness."

  "Heard that," Courtland mutters.

  I shake my head, suddenly overwhelmed by a strange wave of emotion. It's got nothing to do with the predicament we're in, and everything to do with the idiots I'm with.

  In spite of their success, most people look down their noses and view these guys as a bunch of airhead himbos, supermodels with nothing more going for them than their looks. Sure, they're not the sharpest tools in the shed, and yes, most days I feel like I'm running a daycare center, but they're more than just clients I PA for.

  They're not even just friends.

  They've become my family.

  Not by blood, but by choice.

  We're all so different and come from different backgrounds, but when you've been through pain, you recognize it in others. All six of us have endured some really heavy-duty shit in our pasts.

  They may drive me crazy, but we've seen each other through ups and downs before, and no matter what the fuck is going on here, we will get through it.

  Together.

  Because that's what family does.

  "I assume you have a plan of attack?" Ulys nudges me with his elbow, bringing me back to…wherever this is.

  "I do. And the first thing we need to do is to get out of the sun and under that tree."

 

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