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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.”

He chuckles, reaching for a shaker. “Coming right up. New in town?”

“That obvious, huh?” I watch as he expertly mixes something electric blue.

“Nah, just a hunch. Plus, I’d remember a smile like that.”

I feel a flush creeping up my neck, grateful for the mask. “Smooth talker. You must rake in the tips.”

“I do all right.” He winks, sliding the drink toward me. “But seriously, welcome to Burlington. You picked a hell of a night for your debut.”

I take a sip—it’s sweet with a kick that makes my eyes water. Perfect. “Thanks. Figure I might as well start the year with a bang, right?”

“That’s the spirit.” He nods approvingly. “Any resolutions?”

I pause, thinking of Mom. Of her encouragement to chase my dreams, even when they scared me. “Yeah,” I say finally. “To be brave. To grab life by the horns and all that cliché stuff.”

“I’ll drink to that.” He raises an imaginary glass. “Now go on, cutie. Your year of bravery awaits.”

I raise my very real, very blue drink in a toast and then turn back to the dancefloor. Here’s to you, new year. Let’s see what you’ve got.

I take another sip of my drink, the sweet burn lingering on my tongue as I scan the pulsing crowd. The dancefloor’s a sea of masks and moving bodies, everyone riding the same electric current of anticipation. New year, new possibilities. My heart beats in time with the bass, a giddy energy bubbling inside me.

Alright, Caspian, Time to put your money where your mouth is.

I down the rest of my drink in one go, wincing at the burn. Liquid courage acquired. With a deep breath, I push off from the bar and dive into the throng.

The music wraps around me like a second skin as I start to move. It’s been too long since I’ve let loose like this, and for a moment, I’m worried I’ve forgotten how. But then the beat shifts, and suddenly, my body remembers. I close my eyes, letting the rhythm take over.

My hips sway, arms reaching skyward. I can feel the energy of the crowd, the press of bodies all around me, but in this moment, I’m in my own little world. This is what I came for—this feeling of freedom, of endless potential.

I’m so lost in the music that I almost don’t notice when a presence materializes behind me. Almost. But it’s hard to miss when said presence radiates heat like a furnace and smells like cedar and something spicy I can’t quite place.

I open my eyes, turning slightly, and—Oh, hello! Tall, dark, and holy biceps, Batman.

He doesn’t say a word, just raises the corner of his mouth in a silent question: Can I join you ?

I nod, grinning. Why the hell not?

We move together, finding a shared rhythm. It’s effortless, the way we fit. His hands find my hips, gentle but sure, and I lean back into his solid warmth.

Who are you ? I want to ask. But the music’s too loud, and besides, there’s something intoxicating about this wordless communication. The anonymity of it all, especially with the masks.

So, instead, I lose myself in the dance, in the feeling of his body against mine. For once, I’m not thinking about tomorrow, next week, or the big move. I’m just here, in the moment, alive and electric and free.

And as the stranger spins me to face him, his masked face lit by flashes of neon, all I can think is how this is exactly how I wanted to start my year of being brave.

His eyes catch me off guard—they’re the kind of blue that reminds me of photos I’ve seen of the Mediterranean Sea in Greece, deep and endless, with flecks of lighter color that dance like sunlight on waves. Even through the mask, I can see the warmth in them, a gentleness that contrasts with his imposing size. Looking into those eyes feels like diving into summer despite the winter chill outside.

The song ends, and the stranger leans in close, his breath warm against my ear. “May I buy you a drink?”

His voice is deep, rich like molasses. It sends a pleasant shiver down my spine.

“Absolutely,” I reply, unable to keep the eager grin off my face.

We weave through the crowd to the bar, his hand on the small of my back, guiding me. It’s oddly intimate for two strangers, but hey, I’m not complaining.

At the bar, he orders two whiskeys, neat. I raise an eyebrow. “A man after my own heart.”

He chuckles, and even with the mask, I can see the crinkles around his eyes. Kind eyes. Warm eyes.

“So,” I say, sipping my drink, “come here often?” It’s cheesy, but I can’t help myself.

He laughs again, a rich sound that makes me want to curl up inside it. “A gentleman doesn’t tell, but I’ve certainly picked the right night.”

As we talk, I can’t stop myself from appreciating his figure. He’s tall, towering over me even when we lean against the bar. His arms are ridiculous—I’m pretty sure each bicep is the size of my head. But it’s not just for show. There’s a quiet strength about him, like he’s used to hard work.

And then there’s that little belly. Just a hint of softness that makes me want to run my hands over it, to press against him and feel the contrast between hard muscle and gentle curves.

I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I almost miss the countdown starting.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

He looks at me, those kind eyes twinkling. “Ready for the new year?”

“Seven! Six! Five!”

I nod, suddenly breathless with anticipation.

“Four! Three! Two! One!”

The club erupts in cheers. Without thinking, I push onto my tiptoes, closing the distance between us. Our lips meet, and it’s like fireworks exploding behind my eyelids.

When we break apart, both a little breathless, I grin at him. “Happy New Year.”

He smiles back, a soft, genuine thing that makes my heart skip. “Happy New Year.”

“So,” I say, feeling bold, “what did you wish for this year?”

He pretends to think for a moment, then leans in close again. “Honestly? Right now, I’m wishing we were somewhere else. With fewer clothes.”

I burst out laughing, delighted by his frankness. “You know what? That sounds like a pretty good wish to me.”

As he takes my hand, leading me toward the exit, I think this year is already off to an amazing start.