ADRIAN'S POV The phone buzzes against the polished wood of the nightstand, shattering the silence of the apartment. Adrian glances at the screen. Brian. It’s a name that used to appear daily, a signal for a quick, hard fuck to blow off steam, but lately, the frequency has dropped to near zero. Adrian swipes to answer, his thumb hovering over the end button as he considers declining. He hasn't called Brian in weeks, not since Ryder crashed into his life and took up residence in his head, crowding out everything else. But the voice on the other end is insistent, inviting him to the club. Adrian agrees, the decision mechanical. He needs to get out of his own head, and if a crowded, sweaty club is the cure, he’ll take it. He stands in front of the full-length mirror, pulling on his favorite leather pants. The material is tight, hugging his thighs and restricting his movement just enough to keep him constantly aware of his own body. He selects a mask, a simple black number that obsc
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