Two years had passed since that night. It was now the last day before spring break, a vibrant Friday afternoon, and Dakota was a world away from the frail, bandaged boy who had arrived at the de la Cruz home. He was taller now, a striking 6'3", and had developed a strong, athletic build. Broad shoulders, defined arms, and a six-pack were all a testament to the hard work he'd put in. He constantly wore baseball caps backward, a style heâd adopted that suited him perfectly, and his wardrobe was full of bright, colorful muscle shirts, cargo shorts, and sneakers. Today, he was wearing a pink cap, a sky-blue shirt that ended just above his navel, gray-blue shorts, and gray sneakers. Tattoos covered his arms, and a pair of blue stud earrings and a silver bar necklace completed his look. He was a head-turner now, but his eyes were only for one person: Alejandro de la Cruz, his savior, friend, and, for the past two years, his boyfriend. In English class, Mr. Addisson sat at his desk, grading papers and allowing the students the last thirty minutes of class as a free period. Dakota, sitting at his desk, took out a small diary and wrote for a few minutes, signing his name with a flourish before tucking it away. He then pulled out his phone, a smile spreading across his face as he typed a message. A soft giggle escaped his lips, and he looked up, his gaze drifting out the window. He wasn't focused on the clock counting down the seconds to freedom; instead, he was lost in thought, See more