Alex opened his eyes to bright sunlight. His head hurt, and for a moment, he didn't know where he was.
Then it all came rushing back. The men in clothes. The black bag over his head. Melissa with her FBI badge. But he wasn't trapped anymore. He was in his own bedroom, in his own bed.
Had it all been a bad dream?
His phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was a text from Ethan: "Bachelor party tonight. Don't forget."
Alex sat up too fast, making his head spin. Bachelor party? But what about their parents? What about the FBI?
He called Ethan right away.
"Morning, sleepyhead," Ethan answered brightly. "Ready for your big night?"
"Ethan, what's going on?" Alex asked. "What happened with Melissa and those men? Where are our parents?"
There was a pause. "What are you talking about? Your parents are at home, planning your wedding. Are you okay, Alex?"
Alex's mouth went dry. "But the restaurant... the men in suits... the FBI..."
"I think you had a bad dream," Ethan said, sounding worried. "We had dinner with your parents and Sophia's family last night, remember? Everything was fine. You agreed to get married in four weeks."
Alex felt like the floor was tilting under him. Had it really all been a dream? It had seemed so real.
"I... I guess I did have a dream," he said slowly. "It felt real."
"Well, shake it off," Ethan said. "Your bachelor party starts at eight tonight. Just the guys, some drinks, nothing crazy."
After hanging up, Alex sat on his bed, trying to make sense of things. The dinner. The wedding plans. The FBI. Which parts were real?
His bedroom door opened, and his mother peeked in.
"Good morning, dear," she said with a smile. "Big day today! Your bachelor party tonight, and then just four more weeks until the wedding."
"Mom," Alex said slowly, "is everything okay with you and Dad? With the business?"
Her smile faltered for just a second. "Of course, sweetie. Everything's great. Your father and Mr. Martinez are very happy with how things are going."
There was something in her eyes—a flicker of worry or fear—that made Alex think his dream might not have been just a dream.
Later that evening, Alex stood in front of the mirror, fixing his hair. He still felt confused and worried, but he'd chosen to go along with the bachelor party. Maybe it would help clear his head.
The doorbell rang, and Alex went to answer it. Ethan stood there, looking handsome in a blue button-up shirt and dark pants.
"Ready for your last night of freedom?" Ethan joked.
Alex forced a smile. "As ready as I'll ever be."
They went to a bar downtown, where a group of their friends was waiting. Someone put a plastic crown on Alex's head that said "GROOM" in big letters. Everyone laughed and ordered drinks.
"To Alex," Ethan said, raising his glass. "My best friend since forever, who's about to make the biggest mistake of his life."
Everyone laughed, but Alex felt a pang in his heart. If only Ethan knew how true that was.
The night went on, and Alex found himself drinking more than normal. Each toast to his upcoming wedding made him reach for another drink. His friends didn't seem to notice, but Ethan kept giving him worried looks.
"Maybe slow down a bit?" Ethan recommended after Alex's fourth drink.
"I'm fine," Alex said, his words a little slurred. "It's my bachelor party, right? I'm supposed to get drunk and do stupid things."
"Not that drunk," Ethan said, taking Alex's glass away. "Let's get some food in you."
They ordered nachos, and Alex picked at them without much interest. His mind was still spinning with thoughts of the weird dream—or was it real? —and his feelings for Ethan, which seemed to grow stronger with each drink.
"So," one of their friends asked, "are you excited about the wedding?"
Alex looked up, feeling everyone's eyes on him. He should say yes. He should smile and act everything was great. But the alcohol made his mouth loose.
"No," he said. "I'm not excited."
The table went quiet.
"That's just the drinks talking," Ethan said quickly. "He's nervous, that's all."
"It's not just the drinks," Alex maintained. He looked at Ethan, his vision a little fuzzy. "Can I tell you guys a secret?"
"Alex," Ethan warned. "Maybe not now."
"I don't want to marry Sophia," Alex continued, ignoring him. "She's nice and all, but I don't love her. I love—"
Ethan stood up suddenly, knocking his chair backward. "Okay, I think that's enough for tonight. Alex needs to go home."
He grabbed Alex by the arm and pulled him to his feet. Alex swayed, bumping into the table.
"What? The party's just starting," Alex objected.
"And you're ending it," Ethan said firmly. "Let's go."
He led Alex outside, where the cool night air hit him like a splash of water. Alex took a big breath, feeling a little more clear-headed.
"You almost made a fool of yourself in there," Ethan said, hailing a cab. "What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking I should tell the truth for once," Alex said. He leaned against Ethan's shoulder. "I'm tired of lying, Ethan. Tired of pretending."
Ethan's expression relaxed. "I know. But there's a time and place, Alex. And your bachelor party, surrounded by drunk friends, isn't it."
A cab pulled up, and Ethan helped Alex inside. The ride to Alex's place was quiet. Alex leaned his head against the window, watching the city lights pass by.
"I had a weird dream last night," he said suddenly. "About our parents. About the FBI. It felt so real, Ethan."
Ethan stared straight ahead. "Maybe it wasn't a dream."
Alex turned to look at him. "What?"
But Ethan just shook his head. "We're here."
He paid the driver and helped Alex to his flat. Inside, Alex stumbled to his bedroom and fell on the bed.
"You need water and aspirin," Ethan said, going to the bathroom. "You're going to have a nasty hangover tomorrow."
He returned with a glass of water and two pills. Alex sat up and took them, his fingers brushing against Ethan's as he reached for the glass.
"Thanks for taking care of me," Alex said. "You always take care of me."
"That's what best friends do," Ethan responded. He sat on the edge of the bed. "Now get some sleep."
But Alex didn't want to sleep. He wanted to talk. The alcohol was still making him brave—or maybe just careless.
"Ethan," he said, his voice low. "I need to tell you something."
"It can wait until morning," Ethan said. "When you're sober."
"No, it can't," Alex protested. He took a deep breath. "I don't love Sophia. I love—"
"Don't," Ethan cut him off. "Don't say something you'll regret tomorrow."
"But I won't regret it," Alex said. He reached for Ethan's hand. "I've wanted to tell you for so long. I love—"
A loud crash from the living room made them both jump. Ethan was on his feet in an instant, moving toward the door.
"Stay here," he whispered to Alex. "Don't make a sound."
He vanished into the dark hallway. Alex sat frozen on the bed, his heart racing. The alcohol fog in his head was clearing fast, replaced by fear.
There were sounds from the living room. Angry sounds. Then a thud, like something heavy falling to the floor.
"Ethan?" Alex called, his voice shaky. "Ethan, are you okay?"
No answer.
Alex crept out of bed and tiptoed to the door. The flat was dark except for a strip of moonlight coming through the window. In that silver light, Alex could see a figure lying on the floor of the living room.
"Ethan!" he gasped, rushing forward.
But before he could reach his friend, strong hands grabbed him from behind. A rag was pressed against his nose and mouth, smelling sweet and chemical.
Alex tried to fight, but his limbs felt heavy. His view blurred. The last thing he saw before darkness took him was Ethan's still form on the floor, and a pair of shiny black shoes stepping over him.
"Got him," a man's voice said. "Tell the boss we have Rivera's son. Now let's see if they'll talk."