Why is her brain so stuck? Following last night, she'd woken to a mezcal-thick headache and thoughts of Bear— only thoughts of Bear, naturally. Goddammit, their interruption. Godammit, Jack! He had no way of knowing, but he'd intruded on a very long fantasy about about to become realized. Instead, she'd all but slunk home. Awoke to a bright sun, family excursions, the hike, a headache, and the thought that Bear might not remember their night at all.

All that touching, and grinding. He'd barely looked at her today! Was it just the mezcal? Had the alcohol washed away his memory her like footprints in the sand? Or had he awoken of it and thought better— decided he wasn't really going to sleep with a family member of Jack's. Even though she can't blame him, it makes her chest fall, honestly, the thought of him avoiding her.

Ugh. Maisie needs him. Maisie had touched herself in the shower after getting out of bed— thinking of Bear, of them dancing together. Thinking of those perfect hands on her ass. It hadn't been enough. Her frustration had stewed, simmered, boiled over, and she'd crept off after midnight, headed to the beach to stew in her frustrations once more. Didn't Bear want her? Didn't he feel the same need heating up in his abdomen? She understands what had happened with Jack— why he might think better of it now, but. Ugh! God. Maybe she just needs to talk to him alone.

Maisie, hair unbound, snaps at the white string of her bikini in frustration— then nearly falls into the surf when she spots Bear, in the dark, at this very same beach! As if she'd summoned him by thought and desire alone! God. He fucking looks good, too.

"Oh. Jesus!" She blinks rapidly. "There you are."

There you are. Something open in her tone, wanting— like she'd been searching for him all day. Which. Well. There's truth in it.

And then, because Maisie had packed her white bikini for a reason, turns where she's standing on the surf— angling herself so that she's facing Bear fully. So he can see her more fully. Bare stomach, and breasts, hips cut out by the thin straps of her bottom.

Her chin raises. She kicks at the water, for the sole excuse of extending her leg.

"...Haven't seen you all day."

Ryder couldn’t believe that after one call that started as an innocent kitten rescue, which the kitten was saved and is now in a good home, turned into a flirty encounter with a handsome good looking local animal shelter owner, which then turned into a hot and heavy make out session against the truck. Which he was now sitting against the wall of the firehouse flirty sexting Finn. The man he met at the call. The man he made out with and wanted more with. Was this just a stroke of luck and in the morning when he woke up it would be gone? Or was this really happening? He hoped it was the second option. Ryder wanted more of this.

As they continued to text back and forth, Finn asked Ryder to bring him dinner. How could he say no to that. He would be able to see him again. They could even possibly pick up where they left off since they were so rudely interrupted by Ryder having to leave to another call. He was a puddle though seeing the shirtless selfie that Finn had sent and the dirty text that came with it. Ryder had to leave now. He stopped by the restaurant grabbing the food for Finn and made his way to Long and Pawsper Animal Rescue. Nervous but excited. @finnaaustin

He did seem to enjoy messing with her.

There’s no hope of retreating, however. Her eyes eventually land on the top of Aven’s head, and a flush unrelated to the weather seems to threaten to color her cheeks.

Celia marches over before stopping at the table, eyebrow lifting several severe degrees. Hmm.

“I hope you’ve used these last twenty-four hours to work on your silent contemplation,” She says in lieu of hello.

A very excited Honey whips her Bentley into the parking lot of the venue her fashion show would be held in. The old Playboy Club where she had her birthday party. A place that she would eventually like to buy and put it under the Tejada Holdings Corp business label.

Honey had to calm herself down before she's stepped inside this building. She was too excited. Almost to the point she's shaking. Honey knew what was on the other side of that door. Her dream fully realized. The staff she had hired was busy at work getting everything ready for tonight. She couldn't walk in there freaking out, they'd think she's an amateur.

She parks the car, yanks the keys out of the ignition, and just sits there thinking. She made it, this was all real. After a brief closing of her eyes and deep breaths, Honey finally leaves her car. The moment she's inside she's over whelmed as she see's the half set up venue.

The clear glass circular runway was half way finished, the Tejada Collective Logo was emblazoned on almost everything she saw, the technical team was going over lighting ques, and her friends names were on cute place cards in the front row. It's exactly how she pictured it.

Honey climbs up on the runway in order to get backstage where she see's make up artists and hairdressers setting up products and chairs. It makes her weak in the knees. She leaves the backstage in order to let people do their jobs. Her job doesn't start until the models get done with hair and make up.

He shook his head, then moved to sit on a bench to get his bearings before going inside. There were going to be several people in there that he hadn’t seen in years. People he wasn’t entirely sure would want to see him, and he wasn’t sure how he’d respond if certain topics were brought up. Almost as if on cue, right as he was on the edge of calling another Uber back to the hotel, a tall, familiar, attractive brunet stepped out of another car, and Sebastian felt his stomach flip. Hunter was always there for him in ways he would never understand, or even be aware of. He stood after taking a breath and walked over, sliding his hands down into the pockets of his dress pants. “Fancy seeing you here,” He teased, his signature smirk curving the corner of his lips.

Blaine does not text first but that doesn’t surprise Sebastian in the slightest. He probably has to behave like covert ops in his own home because Kurt is somehow the noisiest boyfriend alive at the same thing that he’s completely disinterested in the life Blaine leaves. Sebastian doesn’t have to know what their realtionship has been up to lately to understand that.

It’s not like he’s waiting by his phone or anything; he’s lived a life without Blaine Anderson so the fact that he’s run into him on the subway doesn’t change his daily routine. Even though he does think about him. Often.

He glances at his cat, Taco, who blinks at him with her one eye since the other is missing. She was a throwaway at a shelter Sebastian was doing an internship at and she only seemed to like him compared to any other vet or assistant. Naturally, he brought her home.

“What?” He asks her and Taco just merely trills before going to lay down on his phone, as if that’s an answer enough. He rolls his eyes and takes a sip from his coffee before prying the phone out from underneath her. He takes a photo of her and quickly sends it to Blaine with the message of: my cat is insisting she knows whether you’re busy tonight or not.

It’s not like Blaine doesn’t have repeat costumers--he sees men sometimes twice, three times at most when he’s working the corner or takes a job at the bar. Never does he see them more than that.

He’s seen Sebastian Smythe a total of ten times now and it doesn’t seem like either of them want to stop very soon.

He’d like to convince himself it’s all about the money--and the cash is great and plentiful, don’t get him wrong. Sebastian’s got deep pockets and he’s always willing to pay him what he’s worth, sometimes more than that when Blaine teases about not being able to leave the corner or bar for the night.

It’s...it’s more than that, though, when Blaine allows himself to think for too long. He enjoys spending time with Sebastian, someone who seems interested in talking to him and whether or not he gets off. Some guys can be such control freaks and sasholes. It’s usually over Blaine saying ‘no’ or not being interested in some sort of kinky idea.

Not all guys are as gentle as Sebastian or caring.

Sometimes he gets hurt. Sometimes a night goes wrong.

Which is why he hasn’t been texting or calling Sebastian back.

Sam sighs softly as he holds up an ice pack to Blaine’s face, gently tipping his chin. “I told you---“

“I know,” Blaine says after a moment, wincing as Sam checks to make sure his cheekbone isn’t broken. “Start trusting my gut more.” If he would have trusted his gut, he wouldn’t have gotten into a truck with someone who hit him so hard that he saw stars. His ribs are bruised, he’s got a split lip and a purple mark on his cheekbone.