I spent the rest of my night sitting in my bed watching TV, Kendall miserably lying beside me, hugging my waist with his head in my lap, sleeping off his intoxication. He had thrown up only once in the toilet before waking up enough to let me dry him off (somewhat of an awkward experience) and dress him in dry clothes.

From the bed I could see the beach, and imagined James and Carlos playing out there, laughing like kids. But the rain had stopped and the beach was dark, the waves reflecting the moonlight, the stars invisible through the clouds. I guessed James and Carlos had gone to get a beer without me.

By then my chipper and whimsical mood had faded with the realization of what happened that day with James. Reality had set in, leaving me feeling sad and lonely. I really wanted to go home then, feeling like I wouldn't have any fun here from then on. But Kendall was having the time of his life- the least I could do was not drag him down.

I was a customer to James. A younger customer. He had some fun with me, joked around, made me loosen up, because that's what he's paid for. I was nothing special to him- I was another customer.

The fantasy I had in my head might as well be forgotten. I would never dance with James, be kissed by him, hear him tell me that he loves me. Hell, I might never see him again.

Tomorrow I would tell sober Kendall about James and my time with him, and he would say that I needed to pursue him further. But I wouldn't. I couldn't be such a burden to James- he wouldn't want to see me anymore. He probably assumed I knew that our time was over, just as all his other customers.

In attempt to cure my homesickness, I called my mom and told her about how the flight went the day before and the hotel and finally James. She said she was happy that I at least met him and tried to pursue him, and that she would be beyond happy if I found a boyfriend someday soon. Then she said that she was sorry, honey, but she had to go to bed. Then she said that she loved me and that I needed to try to have fun before my savings was wasted on a trip that I hated.

After hanging up, a felt a little better but still wanted to go home.

James' POV

My body was absolutely drained, just as it always was after a day of work. It was a good drain- like I spent my day doing something I love and I accomplished something and made money. But sometimes being drained wasn't good, because sometimes that little silver Maserati was parked in the parking lot of my apartment complex and a sense of doom washed over me in realization that my "dear" fiancé was there waiting.

Mercedes Griffin. Yaaaay. Cue the sarcasm, please.

"Fuck," I whispered, frozen in the passenger seat of Carlos' black jeep. "She's here."

"James. You better get used to it- you're marrying her," Carlos said sternly.

"Stop reminding me."

"You can't complain," he sang. "You have the power to break it off, you're just too scared."

"I'm not scared," I snapped. It was no use- Carlos had been my best friend since I moved here in high school and he knew me all too well.

"Besides, she's rich and famous and fucking hot."

"Maybe for you. You take her. Please?"

"I don't want her. Maybe for a night. But not forever," he said, hands up in surrender. "You wouldn't have this problem if you'd just come out."

"It's not that easy, Los."

"Yes it is. 'Mom. Mercedes. Mr. Griffin. I'm gay. Sorry, I can't marry this brat, I like cock,'" he mocked. "Easy."

"You know it's not like that," I snapped, more angrily now. "Gay isn't okay with Mom and it would mean letting her down."

"You're all she's got. She has to love you either way."

"You'd think."

"Want me to come in with you?" Carlos asked.

"No- I'm a big kid now, I can handle it," I sighed, dragging myself out of this jeep.

My apartment was nothing big- probably what you would expect of a surf instructor, plus a little from "Mommy's money", which I'm weaned off of now.

My apartment has just one bedroom and all the necessities with a few beach decorations that came with it- paintings and seashell décor. There were a few of my personal surfboards against the wall with a wetsuit, and everything else was pretty messy.

"Mercedes?" I called, knowing she was probably rifling through my bedroom for used condoms or panties that didn't belong to her or something like that. Of course she wouldn't find any. I've never even had sex with Mercedes herself- I convinced her that I was into the whole "abstinence" thing, but in reality I couldn't care less. I just didn't want to have sex with her. Like I've established, I like men.

I didn't plan on changing that for Mercedes, even once we were married. I would always look at men, always think about men, always want men.

I guess, then, you're wondering why I'm even marrying the witch. Why I've been engaged to her for a month now and "dated" her for six before that.

My mom's a powerful woman. Brooke Diamond- CEO of Brooke Diamond Cosmetics. She makes millions of dollars every year and is well-known and well-advertised.

Arthur Griffin is Mercedes' dad, and he's even more powerful. In fact, he's the fourth most powerful man in the world. He makes billions a year and pretty much owns the world.

So it's only natural that the son and daughter of the two get married and eventually combine their inherited companies, make billions and billions of dollars, and have powerful babies that will marry the children of other powerful people. Sort of a "Diamonds take over the world" thing.

Except I don't give two shits about power or money or Mercedes. I want to find love with a man, spend my days surfing and being with him, and be happy.

I've never expressed that with my mom. I've told her that I don't like Mercedes, but she told me to stop being so selfish, that this was important. I could never tell her that I like men. She's very religious- the scary type where she thinks that gays all go to hell.

Telling her that I'm gay means losing the woman the birthed me. The only woman I love. My only family.

"James, honey, where's my toothbrush?" Mercedes asked, coming out of the bathroom, her voice immediately making me dread the rest of the night. Most likely she wouldn't go home- she would demand she stay the night with me. She would try to seduce me. When that doesn't work, she'll settle with snuggling all night.

If Mercedes was any other woman in the world, I might be able to fall in love with her. There are times that I do crave a woman's touch, like I had in high school a few times, that I look at a set of boobs and sort of like it, that a woman is attractive to me. Mercedes doesn't do any of that for me.

"I don't know," I said, confused, as I pushed past her to my bedroom. I normally tried to be polite to her. She's still a human being, even if she was that mixed with some sort of monster.

"Well I have one here," she said. "For when I stay the night. And now it's not there. Where is it?"

"I probably threw it out," I said, tossing my phone and keys on the bed before kicking off my shoes.

"You are so inconsiderate," Mercedes steamed. I'm inconsiderate. Right.

"Sorry," I grumbled.

"I hoped we could have a romantic dinner together."

And by that, she means I take her out to a five-star restaurant with three-course meals and valet parking and pay for whatever she wants out of my pocket. Like I'm the rich one. Like I'm not paying out of my own pocket with the little bit of money I earn surfing.

"I already ate," I said. "I had a burger with Carlos."

"So inconsiderate!" Mercedes repeated. "You never think about me."

"I try to avoid it when I can, you're right," I said frankly, leaving the room, her trailing behind me.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"Nothing, baby," I said through my teeth, wishing I could just go off on her and kick her out.

I gave her a cute little smile, mixed with a bunch of nastiness. She didn't pick up on the nastiness. She never really does.

"Well I still need dinner," Mercedes said to me in the kitchen, where I had retrieved another beer in addition to the one I had at dinner with Carlos, knowing she hated the smell of alcohol on my breath and wouldn't kiss me. "Cook me something."

"Wish I could, sweetheart," I sighed with mock apologies. "But all I have here is macaroni and a few cans of tuna."

"Ew!"

"I mean, I can make you a tuna sandwich," I said, knowing she'd never bite.

"I'll just go out," she said.

"Fantastic."

"Should I come back?" she asked seductively, her manicured nails lightly raking up and down my chest.

"You should go home and get some rest."

She pouted out her glossy bottom lip, pressing herself closer to me. I simply took another sip of beer, making her back up, hands out.

"That's disgusting. You need to stop drinking like this before something bad happens to your kidneys."

"Liver, darling," I sighed. She was sort of stupid, too, by the way.

"I'm just concerned for you, baby," she said. "And if you keep this up, I'm never going to kiss you."

"What a pity," I said sarcastically, going to sit on the couch. She perched on the arm of the couch beside me, ignoring my remark.

Mercedes really does love me. Well, she says she does, but she's manipulative like that and might be lying. I don't know how she would ever love me- I never show any interest in her, barely kiss her, and never have sex with her. I've never told her I love her- sometimes when she says "I love you" I just say "you, too" and that's the end of it.

With that, she leaned down and tapped her cheek, making me sigh and kiss it before she happily left. Finally.

Logan's POV

"If you're not going out, I'm staying here with you," Kendall said the next morning, me still wrapped in my blankets having been awake for an hour while Kendall took a shower and shaved and tried to get over his hangover. Apparently he was feeling well enough to go out.

"No, you go have fun," I said, peeking out from beneath my covers.

"I can't just leave my Logie when he's feeling sad," he said, kneeling beside my bed to look in at me.

"I'm not sad."

"Yes you are," he said. "You're sad about that surf instructor, aren't you? What happened? Did he turn you down?"

"No. We never surfed- it rained. Then you showed up and passed out and he carried you up here. He invited me for a beer with him and his buddy, but I turned him down," I said.

"That's so awesome! Logan, how can you be sad about that?" Kendall asked excitedly. "I mean, you should have gone with him!"

"I couldn't just leave you passed out here," I reasoned. "And I'm underage. He told me he would sneak a beer to me, but I said I had to stay with you."

"Don't even worry about me."

"Who else would clean you up after you puked and strip you naked and change your wet clothes?" I asked frankly.

"You did all that?" he melted. "You're so awesome. You saw my junk?"

I rolled my eyes and laughed a little. It wasn't like I hadn't seen it before.

"Well I deserved to be left alone and miserable in wet clothes," he said. "I was drunk and I'm sorry."

I shrugged, not wanting to be the party pooper and tell him not to drink anymore.

"So why are you upset, then?" he asked.

"I'm not upset."

"Yes you are."

"I'm just homesick," I said. "And feeling really lonely."

Kendall twisted his lips and dropped his eyes.

"Okay," he said. "So let's just go home. We can spend the rest of our money on a roadtrip- wherever you wanna go. Or we can just keep it."

Although that sounded great, and I wanted to do it, I hated to see how sad that made Kendall. But then I realized that he wasn't sad to be leaving- he was sad about me not enjoying myself.

"And I'm not leaving your side," he said, green eyes sincere. "We can just stay here and book a flight back home and watch some movies. Oh, and order pizza. Okay?"

I smiled gratefully, loving that Kendall was sacrificing so much for me. But I was just the same and I didn't want him to be unhappy.

"One last day," I said. "So you can soak it up before we go."

"I'm not leaving you, Loge."

"I'll go with you," I said.

"Really?" Kendall asked excitedly. "You wanna go party with me?"

"Maybe I should soak it up, too," I smiled. "See what you're enjoying so much."

Kendall and I had a lot of fun playing beach volleyball for a few hours with a mixture of guy and girls. I found out that I was actually pretty good at volleyball and was able to get out of my shell a bit to play.

After that, Kendall and I walked along the shore in search of another group to join.

"I think you belong here," I smirked, looking out over the ocean.

"How come?"

"You just get along so well with everyone, and you seem to love being social," I answered.

"Well I could say that about you, too," he said. "Once we got going with the game, you seemed like you were having a ball. Were you?"

"Yeah- it was really fun."

"See what you've been missing?"

From there we joined a little party at a hotel pool, which we needed special bracelets to get into but we sneaked in illegally.

After just a few minutes I was ready to leave. This party wasn't anywhere near as fun as the volleyball party, but Kendall was loving it. I ended up sitting in a tanning chair, watching as girls practically gave the other guys lap dances, including Kendall.

Kendall was against the wall of the pool making out with a blonde girl. It wasn't rare there- pretty much everyone was making out with a stranger.

Then the manager of the hotel came out and broke up the party and threatened to call the police, and I pulled Kendall away.

Finally we just sat in the sand and decided to make a sandcastle. I was enjoying just doing something relaxing if not a bit childish with my best friend.

But that was all ruined when some teenage guys with boogie boards ran up and jumped on our castle, yelling "FAGGOTS!" before scrambling off.

And that's when I was ready to go home- now.

I got up and started walking back toward our hotel, though I knew we were almost a mile down the beach from it.

"Logan!" Kendall called desperately. "They were kidding!"

"This isn't my idea of a vacation, Kendall. This is Hell. For me, at least."

"But Loge-"

"I should have never agreed to come here- I knew I'd hate it!" I steamed.

"You were just being a good friend!"

"A good friend doesn't let his best friend run wild to make out with strangers and get drunk and God knows what else," I retorted. "A good friend would say, 'No, Kendall, let's go skiing in the mountains!'"

Kendall said nothing, moping and almost physically pouting.

"I'm sorry, Logan," he finally said. "It was selfish for me to drag you here when I knew you'd hate it."

"Damn right."

Okay, I shouldn't have said that. That was just plain hurtful.

"I just wanna go home," I sighed.

"You know I love you, right?" he asked desperately. "You're my best friend in the whole world, Loge."

"I know."

"I know I've been a horrible best friend to you with leaving you for the girls and getting drunk and making you take care of me," he said apologetically. "But I've been really trying to make it up to you."

"I know, Kendall."

"You're still mad."

"I'm not mad. I just wanna go home."

"Just one more stop. Please? For like ten minutes, then we'll go pack and get booked for a flight in the morning and order a pizza and watch movies."

I looked up to see where he wanted to go. It looked like an outdoor club with a dance floor and hanging lights, which weren't on yet, and a fire and a DJ.

"What is that? There's no bouncer or anything," he said.

"Maybe a birthday party or something."

"Can we crash it?"

"No."

"C'mon, Loge. One more. You used to be fun, you know."

I sighed and rolled my eyes.

"Ten minutes," I said sternly.