I am not a victim. At least that’s what I wanted to believe. What I wanted the world to see. Five years of trying to find the girl I hid from the world. I wouldn’t let the bullies win. I couldn’t. What was I supposed to do when he walked into the building? He’d made my high school years a living hell. But, he doesn’t recognize me. How do I prove he didn’t break me? Simple, take him home for a one-night stand. At least it sounded like a good idea at the time.

Regret. I’m a man living with regret. It eats at me night and day. Eights years ago, I ran from Reagan instead of facing the music. I was sure he would shut me out if he knew the truth, so I beat him to the punch. I left and never looked back. Or at least I tried not to. To this day, Reagan is always in the back of my mind, trying to make me remember the fun we had. I always wonder what he would have thought if I’d told him everything. The regret echoes in my head. Now he’s standing in front of me, looking for answers I doubt he’s ready for. Can Reagan accept me for who I really am? Warning: Contains sexual situations between two men.

It started out as a favor. I couldn’t resist the heartbreak in those emerald green eyes. I never expected to wind up in her bed. Now we're back on tour and I can’t get Jenna out of my head. Every time I close my eyes or step off stage, she’s there at the front of my mind. There’s nothing I can do. But then she leaves me a message. A message that leaves me with more questions than answers. Now, distance doesn’t matter and I’ll fight for her with every breath in my lungs. She doesn’t trust anyone to stay. Somehow I need to get her to believe in me.

Vegas At least, it sounded like a good idea at the time. I mean what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right? Not so much. Not when I make rash decisions and the whole world was there to catch my stupidity on camera. But this time... This time, I took someone down with me and she didn’t deserve any of the sh\*t being thrown her way. The band is pissed I screwed up again. She's being unfairly hounded by the paparazzi. I regret everything that's happened. What happens in Vegas doesn't always stay there. But the bad press isn’t my fault. Things have to go right at some point. Don’t they?

All women are liars. Well, maybe not all women. Over the years, I’ve only met a few who cared about anyone other than themselves. Seven years had passed since the last time I saw her. The one who lied to me. I might pretend it doesn’t bother me now, but the scars are as fresh as the day she disappeared. Hopefully, someday I can forget the pain she caused. Or, until I literally run into her—if only that were the last time. It seems destiny wants to torture me. How am I supposed to move on when I can’t escape her?