CHAPTER 1
CASPIAN
“Well, Toto, we’re certainly not in Kansas anymore,” I mutter between my chattering teeth.
I turn onto Church Street, my breath puffing out in little clouds as I shiver in the frigid Vermont air. Damn, it’s cold.
Maybe a skin-thin T-shirt, hot pants you could rip off with your teeth, and fishnet tights isn’t the smartest outfit choice. But it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Especially when I saw the way my ass looked in the mirror, all perky and ripe for the taking.
I keep going. The club will be warm, so there’s no point dragging along a bulky coat I’ll just have to keep track of all night. Besides, it’s only a block away. I can tough it out.
My stomach flips as I pick up my pace, excitement and nerves buzzing through me. New year, new chapter. And hopefully, a hot hookup to start things off right. I grin, picturing the kind of guy I’m after—tall, beefy, maybe with a beard I can run my fingers through. Someone to help me work out all this pent-up sexual frustration before I settle into sleepy Maplewood.
Well, I assume it’s sleepy. I’ve never actually been there. But that’s not something for this year’s Caspian to worry about.
It’s been a while since I’ve been with someone, and the long drive to Vermont from Arizona has made me restless. Let’s see if I can work this out of me before the last leg of my trip.
“Woo! Happy New Year!” someone shouts, drawing my attention to the festive chaos around me.
Church Street is decked out in twinkling lights and shimmering banners, packed with revelers who seem immune to the freezing temperatures, ready to ring in the new year. My eyes are drawn to a group near the corner, laughing and clinking glasses as they huddle together for warmth.
“Oh my god, you did not,” one guy exclaims, playfully shoving his friend.
Their energy is infectious, reminding me of nights out with my best friend, Marcus, back in Phoenix. A pang of nostalgia hits me, but I shake it off. This is what I came for—to soak up that vibrant city life one last time.
I smile as I weave through the crowd, excitement building with each step. Maybe one of these strangers will be my midnight kiss. Or more. The possibilities make my skin tingle in a way that has nothing to do with the cold.
I quicken my pace in a feeble attempt to stay warm, my heart racing in time with the thumping bass that grows louder with each step. The club’s neon sign flashes like a beacon, promising one last wild night before I trade this electric energy for small-town cozy charm.
Marcus was the one who told me to stay in Burlington and enter the new year with someone entering me. He even found the club with the midnight masquerade party.
“You’ve got this, Caspian,” I mutter, mustering that signature Lane family confidence. Mom always said I could light up a room—time to prove her right.
As I approach the entrance, the music swells, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the clinking of glasses. I pause at the threshold, fishing the ornate mask from my back pocket. It’s all feathers and glitter and maybe a bit extra, but totally me. It’s time to see if Vermont can take me on.
“Alright, show time.” I secure the mask and take a deep breath. The air’s thick with anticipation and the faint scent of cologne and spilled cocktails.
A bouncer eyes me, his own mask a simple black domino. “ID?”
I flash him my most winning smile as I hand it over. “Happy New Year, big guy. Save a dance for me?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “In your dreams, pretty boy. Have fun in there.”
As I step inside, a wave of heat and pulsing lights washes over me. Bodies writhe on the dancefloor, a sea of masks and bare skin. For a moment, I’m overwhelmed—it’s been a while since I’ve done this.
But then the beat drops, and I feel it in my bones. A grin spreads across my face.Oh yeah, this is gonna be good.
I weave through the crowd, my body already moving with the rhythm. The music thrums through me, each beat washing away more of the tension I’ve been carrying. For tonight, at least, I can forget about the move, about starting over in the place I only know secondhand, about all the what-ifs plaguing me.
A guy in a peacock mask bumps into me, spilling his drink. “Shit, sorry!” he yells over the music.
I laugh, shaking droplets off my arm. “No worries! Consider it my New Year’s Eve baptism!”
He grins, clearly relieved, and disappears back into the crowd. I make my way to the bar, squeezing between two drag queens in fabulous sequined gowns.
“What’s your poison, handsome?” the bartender asks. He’s sporting a Zorro mask, and I can’t help but admire the way it accentuates his cheekbones.
“Surprise me,” I reply, leaning on the bar. “But make it strong enough to make me forget I have to adult tomorrow.”
