No way am I drinking anything on my first official night outside of North America. I'm in Dublin! my mind shouts, but it's hard to enjoy it when my boyfriend is drinking himself into a stupor—while my four other boyfriends hang out upstairs in a hotel room. “The bar is closing,” I whisper as I reach out and brush some blonde hair from his forehead. Last night, on the plane, Pax was … not himself. It was a six plus hour flight and he barely spoke a word. “I love you, Pax.”
