Cortez

"That's your fifth shot of tequila. Are you okay?" The bartender asked from behind the counter where Cortez stood, wearing a sympathetic expression.

He tipped his head up, struggling to hold his gaze on the bartender, his mind a muddy mess. Cortez barely could've made out the bartender's features. He dropped his head back on the counter with a groan.

"Fan-fucking-tastic," He slurred.

The bartender frowned, deciding not to question him further.

"Are you gay?" Cortez asked, peeking through his mess of curls called hair to study the bartender's face.

The bartender merely regarded him with raised brows, his blue eyes so radiant in the darkened room. How Cortez made that out in his drunkenness was beyond him.

"That's a bold question," He chuckled.

"Which requires a yes or no answer," Cortez pointed out, belching afterwards. Damn, he felt like he was floating in the clouds.

"I'm bisexual," He tapped Cortez on the nose, rousing a giggle out of him.

"That's hot," Cortez said frankly, feeling his cheeks darken in response to the alcohol and the bartender's good looks. Wow, that's new. He never felt attracted to anyone else besides Jacob. Maybe it's the alcohol.

"You're drunk," He shook his head with a grin. "I think it's time for you to call it a night. Are you here alone? Do you want me to call you an Uber?"

Cortez huffed, rolling his head from side to side on the counter. "I don't wanna go home! The memories there aren't pleasant."

"Hey, hey. It's okay." The bartender gently patted my arm. "You can stay in one of our spare rooms upstairs for the night. How about that? You're not in a state to drive alone anyway. I'll have one of our employees assist you in getting settled in. How does that sound?"

Cortez sniffled, asking instead, "Do you think I'm ugly?"

His expression suddenly darkened. "Let me guess, you got dumped? Or your boyfriend cheated on you?"

"My boyfriend cheated on me with my best friend's cousin. The most hurtful part is, he had sex with me that same night he had sex with him." Cortez's chin wobbled as he held back a pathetic sob.

"What an asshole," He said distastefully, a scowl cutting across his handsome features.

"You're so beautiful. I'm sure you have a personality to match. He's stupid to cheat on you and break your heart like that." The bartender said genuinely. 

"The only thing that matched his tastes is the hole he plundered while I was worried sick about him." Cortez's chin wobbled as he held back tears.

"Shit. That's awful." He replied.

Someone slid onto the stool beside him, bearing the most intoxicating scent he had ever smelled. His head tilted up a bit to see who it was, and he gasped.

"Hey, Chad. Long time no see." The man with the velvety voice said.

The bartender's expression brightened. "Hey, bro, you're back in town?"

"Yep, and I'm here to stay." He said, flashing a toothy smile that showed gorgeous dimples.

This bitch. Cortez saw red. Before he could utter another word, he punched him sloppily in his side. The man grunted, snapping shocked eyes on him before Cortez landed a stinging slap to his face. He hissed in pain, and the bartender stood, staring agape.

"What the hell?" He gripped Cortez's wrists effortlessly, preventing another slap.

"You!" Cortez seethed, trying wildly to free his wrists. "You boyfriend-snatcher!" The man looked confused by his outburst and Cortez's attempt to assault him again.

The bartender apologized, blaming Cortez's aggressive behavior on his drunkenness. His emotions were all fucked up, causing fat tears to stream down his face. "I hate you," He sobbed. "I hate you so fucking much, it hurts."

The man lowered Cortez's hands, staring at him pitifully, "That's a strong word you're using there," He said, albeit softly. "I'm sure I haven't met you before, especially to bring you to tears." He wiped Cortez's tears away with his thumb. Cortez let him, feeling tired and defeated.

"I have nothing now," Cortez whimpered. "You took it all from me."

Both the man and the bartender shared a glance before he spoke, "Can I get you a cab? You've had enough for the night. And I'm positive you have mistaken me for somebody else."

Cortez shot him a malicious glare, "I'm not blind! It was you who was fucking my boyfriend just a few hours ago in a filthy bathroom stall! That blasted face of yours isn't forgettable. Why did you have to be so handsome!? Oh goddddd!" He wailed.

"Hey, hey. Don't cry. Come on," He glanced at the bartender for help.

The bartender shrugged, "I offered to call an Uber, or he could've crashed upstairs in one of the guest rooms. From the moment he stepped foot in here, he was a mess. Whatever happened to him has him crushed."

The handsome son of a bitch had the nerve to scoff, "Whoever did this to him deserves to be punched square in the face."

"Shut up," Cortez mumbled, dropping his head in his hands, groaning. "My head's on fire."

"You're his problem now. I suggest you get him to the nearest hotel. Judging by the way he's dressed and the amount of drinks he tossed down his throat, he's not short on money," The bartender said, giving a salute before going off to serve a customer.

"Damn. How did I even get mixed up in this shit? All I wanted was a cold beer," He muttered, grasping Cortez's arm. "Come on, let's get you home safe. Where do you live?"

"Don't touch me!" Cortez snarled, yanking his hand away. "I don't need your help." 

He raised his hands in the air, stepping back, "Listen, I don't have to take this. I'm just trying to help, despite you accusing me of stealing your boyfriend. And for the record, I'm straight."

Cortez didn't have the strength in him to snarl his disagreement with him. He groaned as his brain rattled in his skull at the slightest movement. Shit, why did he drink so much? His head felt like a merry-go-round.

"Where do you live?" He asked again, concern lacing his face.

It took Cortez a few seconds for his brain to register his question. The hell he was allowing this man near his home. "You can drop me at the nearest hotel."

He frowned, "Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?"

"What do you want? To warm my bed for me? You wanna make sure that I'm tucked in?" Cortez rolled his eyes, groaning at the pressure he suddenly felt behind them.

"No," He stretched the word, raising a brow at his sarcasm. "As a concerned bystander, I wouldn't want my conscience to eat me alive knowing I was capable of ensuring your safety if something were to happen to you."

Cortez glanced at him from under his lashes, barely keeping his eyes open. He felt dizzy, nauseous, and exhausted.

His stomach churned, and he tried to swallow the burning, acidic feeling in his stomach. He let out a low groan as his vision started to blur, and suddenly, everything around him began to tilt. The last thing he saw was strong arms reaching out towards him before darkness engulfed him.

***

Cortez woke up with a pounding headache that felt like a marching band was playing inside his skull. It was so intense that his stomach rolled with nausea.

"Ow," He pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes, rubbing them. They ached terribly. Swallowing excessively to keep his stomach from erupting like a volcano, He sat up slowly, blinking the blurriness from his eyes. As they regained focus, Cortez frowned, realizing he wasn't in his bedroom.

The room was a decent size, featuring light grey walls and navy blue curtains drawn tight, which left the space shrouded in shadows. The only source of light came from a small bedside lamp on the opposite side of the bed, illuminating the broad back of a man who lay facing away. It was a cozy yet mysterious atmosphere, perfect for a chill evening. Oh my goodness, what did I do!? Cortez shrieked internally.

He yanked his gaze from the man sleeping beside him and bit his lower lip in worry. What happened after he left the bar?

He went through a film of memories in his mind. He started backtracking to the last thing he could remember, trying to piece it all together. He was at the bar, totally wasted, to his dismay and embarrassment, yelling at some random guy that looked like the man Jacob cheated on me with, and then...

He scrunched his brows, racking his brain to remember what the hell happened afterwards. This is not happening! He screamed internally.

He pulled back the quilt, staring at his fully clothed body. Well, at least he was still dressed. There wasn't any telltale aches or pain down below, so he guessed he passed out before getting down to business. He released a sigh of relief. Never had he ever had a drunken hookup, and that was not on his to-do list. Slowly pivoting out of bed, Cortez snatched his phone and wallet from the nightstand, placed his feet down on the floor, and searched for his shoes after shoving them in his pockets. The place was nicely decorated with fresh plants, figurines, and beautiful modern furniture. Family pictures framed the walls, which gave Cortez pause when his eyes landed on a particular one sitting on the center table in the living room. His heart dove into his chest, and his face blanched.

He stepped closer to the picture, picking up the frame with trembling hands. Three young guys were huddled together, arms casually draped over each other’s shoulders, grinning from ear to ear. You could feel the good vibes radiating off them. In the middle was Christian, his best friend, and to his sides were an identical set of twins. Oh my God, that's right.

'Remember when I told you I had twin cousins living in Miami and they were hotties?' Christian's words rang in his head. Oh, shit. He slapped the other twin!? Cortez covered his mouth in shock, his eyes darting around to see if he was suddenly awake.

"I gotta get out of here," Cortez whispered, placing the frame back down and scurrying to the front door. Cortez's shoes were lined up beside his neatly, a tremendous contrast to his larger ones. He snatched them up and quickly laced them, his heart racing in his chest.

What possessed him to slap the man like that? He's innocent. It's his brother who's sleeping around with other people's boyfriends. This isn't like him to get emotional and hurt innocent people. Urgh, he won't think about it. He needs to get out of here. Carefully, he unlatched the chain sliding across the door and unlocked the deadbolt and knob, slowly turning it, hoping not to wake him. As he pushed the door open with the speed of a tortoise, bright sunlight splashed onto his face, amplifying his headache.

Cortez bit back a groan, stepping out and closing the door with a relieved sigh. His front lawn was impeccably trimmed and maintained. To the left, parked in the driveway, was a black BMW, the latest model. He probably was as well off as Cortez. Snatching his gaze from his car, he pulled out his phone and frantically dialed an Uber to collect him, giving the driver the directions he saw on a street sign. To play it safe, Cortez walked down a few blocks in case the unnamed twin came outside looking for him. He lived in a quiet, suburban neighborhood. Hardly anyone was outside, except for the occasional joggers who passed him by, bidding him hello. The Uber came ten minutes later. Cortez entered the vehicle so fast that his head spun.

"Where to?" He asked after greeting Cortez.

"Cinna Hills," Cortez said, leaning back and closing his eyes to stave off the headache that throbbed behind them. The darkness soothed the pain a bit.

Realizing that he was going to the house where he shared so many memories with Jacob made his throat ache with emotion. He would have to pack Jacob's belongings as soon as he gets home. Cortez couldn't spend another moment of his life with Jacob, knowing what he did, seeing in living color his betrayal.

Tears stung his eyes, and he furiously wiped them away. He won't allow another man to hurt him the way Jacob did, and that's on his deceased parents. The kind of heart he has, douchebags like Jacob don't deserve it. They'll only mishandle and mismanage something beautiful that's reserved for someone who'll truly cherish it.

With his mind made up and a flood of emotions and memories rushing through him, Cortez let the tears fall silently, staring out the tinted window as the world flew past him in the blur of his tears.