Weston has two older brothers, him and Dalton. Dalton is only three years older than us, but stuffy as fuck. He’s always been the wet blanket of the family. He got married pretty early on and is an anesthesiologist, just like their dad. He lives in New York with his equally stuffy wife. I’ve seen him probably five or six times since high school. He doesn’t visit much, and even when he does, he’s not any fun. King and West have always been the closest out of the three. They’re so similar, it’s insane. Which is part of the reason Weston moved down here as soon as he graduated college.

Three shots later, Weston and Enzo are dancing while King and I hang out at the table. We can see them from where we’re seated. They are… interesting. I can’t get a read on Enzo or Weston with Enzo. Are they just friends or more? I chance my luck with King.

“What do you know about Enzo?”

“Not much,” he admits, bringing his drink to his lips. “He’s only been here twice, as far as I know. Why?”

“Curious. Weston’s never mentioned him before, and they’re interesting, to say the least.”

“Pretty sure they’re fuckin’,” he nonchalantly states.

It doesn’t entirely surprise me. Weston was always known for being somewhat of a playboy in college who never had any trouble getting plenty of ass. He’s never shown interest in men, at least not around me, but if anyone’s aware of how fluid sexuality really is, it’s me. I mean, is anyone one hundred percent straight these days? Probably not.

We’re observing them. They’re both grinding on each other, but neither one of them appears to be more in charge than the other. Both of them seem to be calling the shots. They’re close to the same height, faces close to one another as song after song plays. The sexual tension is thick, even from all the way over here, and it’s no surprise when Weston finally wraps his palm around Enzo’s nape and crashes their lips together. Kingston and I look at each other, both of us shaking our heads with matching smirks as we turn away from their intimate dance floor moment.

Not surprising at all. It does make me wonder what Stone is doing, though. It would be fun as hell if we were here together. Although, knowing us, we’d most definitely be doing more than making out on the dance floor. We’d probably be banging in the bathroom by now. Lord knows we can’t keep our hands off each other for any period of time.

******