Ukiah didn’t even want to go to this stupid party, but Victor and Layla dragged him out of his house, and he had nothing better to do, anyway. His parents were in Tunisia on some archeological dig, and his awful brother Caleb has brought home his skank girlfriend Stephanie from college, and the first thing they did as soon as they got in was lock themselves up in Caleb’s room to bump uglies. Gross.

He didn’t want to be home for any of that. Usually, he went to his best friend Stella’s house, but she has cousins from the Philippines visiting for a month, and he didn’t want to intrude. There was also his friend Michelle, but she lived in a two-bedroom apartment with her overworked mother and her douchebag unemployed older brother. If he were Michelle, he’d want to get away from there all the time, too.

Valentine’s party featured its usual cast of posers, assholes, school sluts, dickheads, future date rapists, regular people, and an assortment of jerks who should be locked up in juvenile hall or federal prison. Valentine’s ragers were legendary because he never spared any expense on booze or food, there was plenty of weed and coke

if that’s what you’re into

, and he always hired professionals to cater these events. Kaya had always wondered how he explained his expenditures to his parents. “Oh, just put it under social networking.”

But Ukiah’d had enough. He didn’t even know where his friends were. The last time he saw Layla, she was playing tonsil hockey with Mike Peters by the pool. He’d bet Victor was in a room somewhere hooking up with someone from the drama club. He was such a shameless, horny bitch, and sometimes Ukiah envied his freedom and courage to live as he wanted.

Ukiah was out, but he wasn’t out-out like Victor. Victor was everybody’s gay best friend at school, while Ukiah chose his friends carefully and didn’t reveal his sexuality unless he was asked about it. Ukiah wasn’t ashamed of his gayness, but he didn’t want every Tom, Dick, and Harry talking about it, either.

Oddly enough, he felt like taking a nap. He always napped when he was bored. Valentine Esposito’s mansion had fifteen bedrooms, so maybe he could sneak into one of them and sleep. He could just Uber in the morning or something. Val’s house was so big he wouldn’t even know if Ukiah used one of the rooms. Ugh, he had a throbbing headache.

He headed upstairs—a grand staircase that reminded him of Gone With the Wind—ignoring the couple practically doing it against the wall on the second floor landing. He sighed. Sure, he had urges like any other teenager, but it seemed his generation was obsessed with hooking up. He imagined the Summer of Love in the sixties was something like this. Everywhere you looked, people are playing tonsil hockey with each other.

He trudged down the corridor with bedrooms on both sides. It reminded him of a hotel. Rumor had it that this old house was a bordello in the nineteenth century. Maybe old-timey prostitutes haunted the halls at night. How could Valentine live in a place like this? According to Zillow—he loved going on Zillow to look at houses he wouldn’t be able to afford someday—the entire mansion was 8500 square feet. He knew Val’s parents and siblings lived in California, so Val was alone in this mausoleum. He was like Kevin in “Home Alone” except the mother never realizes he was left behind, so no one goes back for him.

Ukiah supposed that made Valentine’s life kind of sad. Maybe that was why he threw parties all the time.

He opened a few bedroom doors that had people having sex in it. After he got an errant shoe thrown at his head, he decided it was probably best to knock first. He found an empty room next to the double doors that led to the second-floor veranda. He only realized it was Valentine’s bedroom when he walked out of the adjoining bathroom wearing only a towel while rubbing his head with another towel.

“Oops, sorry,” Ukiah said, retreating to the door. “I’m gonna—”

“Hold on a minute.” His voice was raspy and sexy, with a hint of a British accent. “What are you doing here, Ukiah?”

Ukiah swallowed. He’d never really dealt directly with Val before. They were friend-adjacent. He only got invited to the parties because he was friends with people who went to them. Valentine was a big dude. Six-five, probably two hundred pounds of muscle, and had the face of a Greek god. His curly blond hair complemented his aquamarine eyes framed by long, almost girly eyelashes. In short, Valentine Esposito was one handsome son of a gun.

“I was just exploring,” Ukiah heard himself say. “I’m sorry for barging in—I didn’t know this was your room. I was looking for a place to take a nap.”

His half-naked host grinned at him. “Nap, huh? That’s new. Most people use our extra bedrooms to fuck in. So rude.”

Ukiah couldn’t look directly at him. The moisture that remained on his skin from his bath made his muscles glisten in the moonlight. He had really nice pecs. “Don’t you mind when they do that? They’re… disrespecting your home or something.”

Valentine shrugged. “This house is too big for one person. It’s like a hotel. Anyway, I always get it deep-cleaned the day after a party.”

“Well, I’m sorry I disturbed you,” Ukiah said, backing away toward the door. “I’m gonna go back to the party.”

“Wait.” Valentine walked up to him and put his hand on his shoulder. “You said you have a headache, right? I’ve got paracetamol and you can chill here for a bit if you want to get away from the noise.”

“Umm…” What’s going on? He wasn’t even a speck in Valentine’s periphery. Was he messing with him? “No, that’s okay. I’ll just go home, I think. I can Uber.”

Valentine sat on his enormous bed and lay back against the pillows, folding his hands behind his head. “Are you sure? Why don’t you hang out with me for a second?”

Kaya’s stomach dropped to his feet. He was trapped in Valentine Esposito’s room—trapped with Mr. Big Man on Campus himself. Girls fought with each other for a chance to date him. There were rumors that even teachers want to get with him. “Why? Are you going to kill me? Look, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have been snooping—”

“Come here, Ukiah.” He patted a spot on his bed next to him. “Let’s get to know each other.”

Wait… did Valentine even swing his way? Kaya hadn’t heard anything about Val being bisexual or anything. He was a true-blue hetero stud. “Okay, now I know you’re messing with me. I’m sure my friends are looking for me, so I should—”

“Do you like me?” Valentine asked in his sexy, raspy voice. “I’ve seen you looking. You stare at me at school. I feel your eyes on me.”

Okay, fine, he had a little crush on Valentine Esposito, but who didn’t? The man was grade-A slab of prime rib. “Valentine, what is this? Are you fucking with me?”

The beautiful English boy chuckled and the sound sent shivers down Ukiah’s spine. “I think you’re cute, Ukiah. I like that you look at me.”

This was a nightmare… Valentine had to be high. Kaya saw him and Nathan Gomez smoking from a giant bong in the games room. People tried to join them, but they were off in their own little world. Afterward, they played foosball. Valentine basically ignored the rest of his party. Kaya figured he’d found someone to hook up with when he suddenly disappeared. He wasn’t with Nathan anymore because Kaya saw the other boy in a cabana getting a blowjob from Tiffany Chen.

“I’m gonna go… Sorry for bothering you.”

Valentine flew across the room and slapped the door above Ukiah’s head before he could open it. “I told you to hang on a moment. What’s the rush?”

His bare chest was inches from Ukiah’s face and he had him trapped against the door. Ukiah held his breath. “Let me go, Valentine. Don’t mess with me like this. It’s not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny.” Valentine cupped Ukiah’s face in his hands. “You are really pretty, you know that?”

His breath tickled Ukiah’s cheek and it smelled like spearmint toothpaste. “Okay, I get it. Ha ha, make fun of the gay kid.” He shivered as Valentine lowered his head and brushed his lips over the pulse in Ukiah’s throat.

“Shut up, gay kid. I’m going to kiss you now,” said Valentine before he covered Ukiah’s mouth with his own.