Tyler sat quietly with his beer, losing himself in the pulse and the beat of a busy night at Scarlet. Not even a year ago, he'd stood in this very spot, lost and helpless, barely any money in his pocket. And even if he had just a little bit more money in his pocket, even with all the things he went through and overcome in the longest few months of his life, he still felt lost and helpless.

He sat there alone and looked out into the crowd. A sea of sweaty bodies, dancing with each other in a space barely bigger than his living room. He was overwhelmed by the smell of Abercrombie cologne pouring off the Hollister clad bodies of posturing boys, each prettier than the next. A few months ago, he would've given anything to be a part of that sea, posturing along with them. The funny thing was, to Tyler anyway, was that this sea, this posturing, looked exactly the same tonight as it did the first night he'd arrived. Nothing had changed.

A cute guy clad in a deep v-neck tee in jorts approached. "Boy a boy a drink?" he asked. At first glance, this guy seemed like a kid, a mere babe barely out of high school, with his pouty lips and perfectly coifed hair. On closer inspection, Tyler would have posited that they were the same age.

"No thanks," Tyler grinned, remembering the first time someone had asked him that.

"What? You got a boyfriend?"

"I... no... I don't."

"You think you're too good for me?"

"Nope."

"Because you're not."

"I never said that I was."

"So why won't you buy me a drink?" cute guy asked, as if someone had told him no for the first time.

"Because it'll taste better if you buy it yourself." Cute guy walked away with a huff and an eye roll and Tyler couldn't help but chuckle. His phone vibrated and he ignored yet another lame apology text from Brad. Instead, he ordered another beer. And on the first sip, he discovered he was right: it did taste better.

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