“I’m Trevor,” the bartender says.

“Bee,” I reply. It’s amazing how the name automatically rolls off my tongue. It’s almost like it gave me my new identity at eighteen years old. It was my third one, but this one I actually picked. It’s the only one that feels like me. I don’t remember what it was like to be the girl I’d been before I was taken, and once I went back home, I couldn’t be the person I thought I was.

“Bee? As in buzz, buzz?” His question jerks me out of my thoughts. “Did I tell you how much I like honey?”

Yeah, because I haven’t heard that one before. “No, as in the letter B. It’s short for ‘bitch.’ Want me to demonstrate how accurate the name is?” I finish my tirade with the tiniest of wicked grins.

At that, Trevor smiles and holds up his hands. “I was kidding. Kind of. But seriously, that was hot. I think I’m in love with you.”

Before I have the chance to reply, someone yells, “Trev! Stop flirting and get your ass down here. There’s work to do.”

That’s my cue to leave. I toss a ten down and he grabs it before I walk away. I want a nice, empty corner to hang out in and finish my drink. Or, if I’m being honest, I’m not opposed to meeting someone; only that someone isn’t him.

When I spot a small table in the back, I head right for it. I’m surprised no one’s grabbed it yet. I sit down and lift the bottle to my lips and drink the whole thing.

I set the bottle down, and for some reason seeing the lime inside transports me back in time. Rex used to make all kinds of bottle art. He’d tell me sometimes the simplest things could be the most beautiful. We’d fill different colored bottles with different shades of objects until we found one that we thought was the most unique, and then he would let me keep it. I put it on the shelf above my bed with all my other favorite things. The things I couldn’t take with me when they found me.

My hand squeezes around the bottle and I take a couple deep breaths. What’s wrong with me? Why am I thinking about them so much tonight? I’m doing better. I have Masquerade. I need to remember things happened the way they were supposed to and go on with my life.

“Decided not to flirt with Trevor anymore?” a male voice says. I look over to see a guy leaning against the wall in the dark, his arms crossed. There are stairs that go up right next to him, and it’s almost like he’s hiding.

“Is there a problem if I was flirting with him?” I reply.

He has a tribal tattoo around his forearm. It’s pretty nice work but I could have done it better.

“Not my business. I don’t know why I even said anything.” He turns his head and scans the crowd. My first thought is, Now this is the kind of guy I’d be into. He has a trail of dark stubble on his face, a tick in his tight jaw, and black hair. It has a few curls in it. Just enough to make you want to run your fingers through it to see how it feels.

I would put money on him riding a bike. He’s gorgeous and trouble, and from the scowl on his face, he’s probably angry at the world just like I’m confused by it.

Too bad he’s an asshole.

“You’re right. It’s not your business. Since that didn’t stop you from bringing it up, I’ll keep it going for you. Let me guess, I’d probably be a slut or a tease if I was flirting with him? Let’s for a minute forget that he not only came on to me, but also that men do that kind of thing all the time. It’s okay for them to hook up with someone in a bar, but not for a girl to, right?”

I’d dealt with stuff like this all the time when I was in school and I hated it. I wasn’t like all the other people who joined activities and smiled in everyone’s face, pretending to be perfect but then going wild behind their parents’ and teachers’ backs. I was who I was then and I am who I am now. At home I didn’t fit in, which bothered me, so I made sure I didn’t care if I fit in anywhere else.

The guy doesn’t reply to me but continues to look out into the sea of people.

What’s his deal?

I pick up my bottle before remembering it’s empty and setting it down again. I keep glancing at the guy, but he’s not paying any attention to me. It frustrates me, and the fact that I’m letting it bother me annoys me even more.

Finally, he says, “I don’t care who you fuck, or who anyone else does for that matter. Being a man or woman doesn’t make a difference.”

There’s something in the raspy seriousness of his voice that makes me believe him. It makes me wonder what he does care about, if anything, because by looking at him, I’d say it isn’t much.

That makes two of us.

I’m not really sure what makes me do it, but I push to my feet, walk over, and lean against the wall next to him. “Your piece is pretty nice. Could be cleaned up a bit.” I point to his tat.

He huffs. “And you’re an expert, right?” He makes it sound like it’s a ridiculous thought.

I smirk because, of course, that’s the first thing people think. I don’t know why. It’s not like it’s so rare to be a female tattoo artist.

We keep standing there. People are dancing all around, drinking and talking. He’s wearing an earpiece, so it’s pretty obvious to me now that he’s security.

After a few minutes, he tosses a glance my way. “You’ve got some nice work too.” It seems to physically pain him to say the words.

“Thanks.”

All of my work was done by the Professor. He’s the old guy who taught me how to tat. I don’t really talk about the Professor because he’s important to me and I like to keep important things to myself. Most people wouldn’t get it anyway.

“What’s your name?” he asks without looking at me.

“Bee. Yours?”

“Maddox.” I recognize what he’s doing. It’s so much easier to talk to people when you don’t have to look at them. Looking brings you closer, and sometimes it’s too hard to get close. I was like that when I first came home. I’m still like that sometimes.

Standing here, I realize I kind of get this guy. I think he might get me, too, and I don’t remember the last time I thought something like that. It’s not that I need him or anyone else to understand me. Still, in this moment, it feels kind of good.

“Maddox!” a guy yells from a few feet away. “You’re off early tonight. Go ahead and clock out.”

Maddox turns to look at me. My skin sizzles under his stare. His eyes are gray and hot on me. Man, this guy is sexy, and for a second, I consider what it would be like to lose myself in him for a night.

“You here with anyone?” His voice is low.

A good girl would probably tell him she wasn’t interested. The kind of girl I maybe should be. The kind my sister is or my mom is. I don’t think it’s such a bad thing to let myself have a little fun. If I’m smart… safe, what’s the problem?

“No.”

I push off the wall so I’m standing right in front of him when he speaks again.

“Do you want to leave with me?”

“We go to a hotel, not a house. And it’s only one night.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” He smirks. It’s the first time I’ve seen him do anything except scowl.

“I’m all about equal opportunity, remember?”

“Are you drunk?”

“No, just had the one beer.”

Maddox gives me a simple nod, then tells me the name of a hotel and says he’ll meet me there.

To be sure, I walk over to a different bouncer than the one who talked to him and confirm Maddox works here. You never know what kind of scams people will come up with and I need to confirm he’s legit.

A few minutes later I’m in my car and driving to the hotel. Just one night. It’s been crazy and stressful getting everything ready for Masquerade, and I really want to let go and have a little fun, with someone who’s safe because I’ll never have to see him again.