Then someone moved, and there was Dorian. I saw the silver rings on his fingers first, and the crease of his dark brow next. His navy blue jacket was off, thrown over a chair somewhere. Shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing two tattoos. His smile was abundant. A painting of joy. His eyes were closed with heavy laughter. Strands of hair fell forward like branches as James held onto his arm trying to finish a story. It was how I found him the night we met, but wildly different in so many ways.
