“Dude.” Dylan got right in Apollo’s face, height difference be damned. “It’s Friday night in America, and you happen to live in one of the most gay-friendly neighborhoods in the city. We’re going to hit up a few places, see what’s happening. As for the whom, I’m not sure that’s your business.”
“It is if it’s my friends,” Apollo ground out.
Dylan laughed, finally getting it. The big guy was hella jealous, not that he was going to admit that. He dropped his voice to make sure it didn’t carry up the stairs. “What? You afraid of me going out with Maddox and Ben? I’m pretty sure Maddox would let me do him, but—”
“What? Maddox would what?” All the muscles in Apollo’s neck were tight cords. Dylan was enjoying this a bit too much.
“Maddox would let me fuck him.” Dylan enunciated clearer. “And Ben—”
“You are not doing anything with either of them.”
“Or both.” Dylan winked at him. “They might be a package deal—”
“No.” Apollo rubbed at his head, ending by lacing both hands behind his neck as if he was trying to keep from strangling him. Good.
“Why? You got some reason I shouldn’t hook up with them or anyone else tonight? You’ve sure made it clear that nothing’s happening with you.”
“Dustin would kill me if I let Ben have you—”
“Have me? Dude. I’m not some eighteenth century maiden here. And you still haven’t given me a reason not to go out.” Give me a reason. Please. “All week, you’ve avoided me. You haven’t even wanted to watch the show together. You don’t want to hang with me, but I’m supposed to stay in? No, thank you.”
“Sorry. I’ve been...busy.” The lie was evident in Apollo’s twitchy eyes, but the firm set to his jaw said that he wouldn’t be backing down—or offering Dylan alternative entertainment. Truth be told, Dylan would happily stay behind to watch the show and cuddle with Apollo, but that wasn’t on the table.
Dylan’s phone jangled in his pocket, and he pulled it out.
You coming? Allie texted.
There in a few, Dylan replied. To Apollo he said, “That was Allie from work. Only reason I’m telling you is so you don’t go handing down decrees to Maddox and Ben when I’m pretty sure both are on duty tonight.” He didn’t mind using the pair to make Apollo jealous, but he wasn’t going to risk Apollo really going off at his friends. He’d been in friendly text communication with the guys since being in town, and he figured they’d meet up one of these days. Hell, he would have done it sooner if he’d known it meant Apollo losing his shit like this.
“So you’re going out with girls?” Apollo was considerably calmer.
“I’m their ticket to the gay bars they’d rather dance at. And Allie is determined to introduce me to every single gay guy she knows. So you never know.” He gave a practiced shrug. “It’ll be a fun group. Don’t wait up.”
“Wait. What if I get called back to base?” Apollo sounded genuinely panicked and not like he was fishing for a crafty excuse, so Dylan paused by the door.
“I’ve got my phone. And I’m not looking to get smashed. Just to have some fun. I’ll hurry back if you text.” Please text with something other than a work emergency.
“Have...fun.” Apollo looked him over again, dark eyes seeming to sear the clothes right off him. And yeah, he knew he’d dressed like a guy looking to get laid. And yes, he’d rather hoped for this reaction from Apollo. He wasn’t particularly proud of that, but after a week of this stalemate, he’d needed something.
He left even though he’d rather stay—well, rather be asked to stay. To have reason to stay. He loved people and being around them, but he wasn’t much of a partier.
Which was why, a few hours later, he was surprised to find himself on the group’s second bar and having a fabulous time, even if he did keep checking his phone for messages from Apollo. That was only diligent, right? As was wondering if Apollo ever came to this place, either with Neal, or before, when he’d been the bad boy of Dylan’s memories.
The Brass Rail had a pretty mixed crowd—plenty of girls there to dance and hang out with friends, but enough of a singles crowd that a guy wouldn’t have any trouble getting past the ropes and finding company.
“Dylan.” Allie tugged on his arm, interrupting his game of who-would-Apollo-fuck. He bent low enough for her to be able to yell in his ear. “That cute guy over by the DJ booth has been staring at you the last twenty minutes.”
“Huh.” Dylan followed her gaze to the far side of the dance floor, where sure enough an older guy in a sleeveless tee that showed off some major arm muscles was looking their way. Wait. Ben.
Allie grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to take steps in that direction or risk stumbling. Her friends followed as they danced closer to Ben. Oh, this was headed for all kinds of trouble. “You need to forget about whatever’s got you grumpy. Dance with him.”
As if on cue, Ben came closer, eyes still locked on Dylan. There was a moment where he could have shut him down, but the same restlessness that had driven him to go out with the girls made him move, giving Ben room to join their group and give him a welcoming smile. Maybe this was what he needed.
*
Apollo took a long, cool shower as soon as he got the girls to bed, but it did nothing to stop the pounding in his head, which continued as he pulled on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt and kept up as he surfed his way through a marathon of cooking shows. What was Dylan thinking going out?
That he’s twenty-three and single and it’s the weekend and you’ve been a jerk all week.
Yeah, pretty much that.
But did he have to go out looking like something out of Apollo’s fantasies from a decade ago? Man, if Apollo were single, he would have been all over that—brash, confident, built...
You are single. Apollo shook his head as he switched to yet another show. No, he wasn’t. Not really. This episode of Chopped had live lobsters in the basket, but Apollo’s brain scurrying all over the place prevented him from enjoying the contestants’ shocked reactions. He was not supposed to be this attracted to Dylan. And he certainly wasn’t supposed to be jealous, wondering who Dylan was dancing—or worse—with, whether he was laughing, whether his eyes had gone dark with pleasure the way they had Sunday night—
Snick. The sound of a key in the door startled him out of his endless mental gymnastics. Dylan’s footsteps were sure in the entryway—no drunken lurching—and his voice was steady as he came into the living room. “Thought I said not to wait up.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” Apollo wasn’t lying. “I like this screen better than the one in the bedroom.”
Also not a lie. Anymore, he couldn’t stand being in the master bedroom beyond the bare minimum required for sleep and dressing.
“Is this the episode with all the food truck guys?” Dylan flopped down next to him. “I’ve seen it.”