Zayn Cox

Zayn grew up poor as dirt in a trailer park. How he survived the meth labs, skinheads, sex offenders, and toothless sociopaths is a story that he's not interested in telling. The past is gone, it's a waste of time to dwell on it.

Not interested in complaining how he never learned to drive because his guardians couldn't afford classes, or even their own car. He doesn't want to talk about the fact that he somehow got a scholarship to college, promptly dropped out within the first year, and then managed to get fired from every job after that until he finally got a gig go-go dancing at a gay club. And don't you dare ask him about the future, either. Zayn doesn't know what he wants to "be when he grows up."

All that matters is tonight. Right now. This momentary reprieve. The vibrations of bass as the music blasts through the club. The neon colors of the strobe lights reflected in his eyes as he looks down at you and writhes his body to the beat, a little closer to your hand until you finally tuck the cash between your fingers into the elastic of his underwear...