Mikey snickers, appearing on my other side. "Yeah, Danny-boy, that key's not gonna submit no matter how hard you stare at it. Gimme."
“Uh-huh,”I respond, happily giving up the fight.
I hand the card over gratefully, leaning against the wall as Mikey slots it in with one smooth motion. The lock beeps, and the door swings open. Cool air from the room rushes out, smelling faintly of hotel soap and my own cologne. Taylor guides me inside with a firm grip on my arm, Mikey flipping on the light.
"Alright, newbie, let's get you sorted," Taylor says, his tone half-amused, half-brotherly. "Can't have our forklift king passing out in the hall. Xander wouldkillus."
I laugh—or try to—but it comes out as a hiccup.
"I'm fine. Totally...fine."
But my legs feel like jelly, and the room's doing that spinny thing again. We must have closed down O’Malley’s. The band's last set is still echoing in my ears, all drums and guitar riffs.
I behaved, though.
Mostly.
No trouble, just beers and pool and more beers.
Olivier's warning rings in my head—behave yourself, Danny—and I grin stupidly at the memory. That man... God, even thinking about him now makes my skin tingle.
“I’m a big boy, I can handle my beer!” I protest, unsure why I’m even saying that out loud but doing it anyway. “I can drink all the beer in the world if I want!”
Mikey shuts the door behind us. "Sure you can. C'mon, off with the jacket." He tugs at my zipper, and I let him, shrugging out of it like a kid being undressed for bed. Taylor's already pulling off my boots, his big hands efficient from years on sites where you help your crew no matter what.
"Guys, I can—" I start, but Taylor cuts me off with a chuckle.
"Nah, you'd end up sleeping in your jeans and hating life tomorrow. Trust us, we've all been there." He pulls my shirt over my head, tossing it onto the chair. My skin prickles in the cool air, but it's not uncomfortable.
These guys are Littles too, right?
No judgment from them, and certainly none from me either.
At least, that's what I tell myself as Mikey helps me out of my jeans, leaving me in just my briefs.
I sway a little, and Taylor steadies me again, guiding me toward the bed. The sheets look so inviting, crisp and white. I flop down onto the mattress with a groan, the world finally stopping its merry-go-round.
"Thanks, you two,” I say. “You're... thebestestof thebestest."
Mikey pulls the covers up over me, tucking them in like a pro. "No problem, Danny. Get some sleep. Site's calling bright and early."
But as I sink into the pillow, something's missing.
My brain's foggy, inhibitions drowned in beer, and the words tumble out before I can stop them.
"Wait... where's Lexi? I need my stuffie,” I say. “Lexi’s gotta be here somewhere."
There's a beat of silence.
I blink up at them, the room swimming.
Did I just say that out loud?
But I'm too drunk to care right now—too tired, too needy. Lexi's my purple dragon, my secret keeper, the one friend that always makes the world feel right when it's spinning out of control.
Taylor doesn't miss a beat. He scans the room, spots my perfect little dragon on the couch where I left him this morning, and picks him up gently.
"This Lexi? Cute dragon." He tucks Lexi under my arm, the soft fur brushing my skin. I hug Lexi close, burying my face in his jazzy tail.
