It was Astro’s first party. His friends had ditched him hours ago, and now he lay sprawled on the bathroom floor, too drunk to move. At twenty-one, with soft features and a pretty face, he could pass as a girl if you didn’t look too closely— and in a place like this, that made him a target.

The music pulsed through the walls, syncing with the pounding in his skull, but he’d stopped hearing it. The party kept going without him, like a train pulling out of a station he’d missed.

The room spun. His stomach lurched. Too much liquor, too fast. He’d been so eager to keep up— and now his body was trying to abandon ship.