“Yeah. My mom will be back, and we go every year to the Fresno Greek festival. It’s like a big family reunion for us, with all the relatives in that area.”
“Sounds fun.” Dylan refused to feel hurt that there was no way in hell Apollo would ask him along, no way he’d ever be introduced to the family as anything other than Dustin’s little brother.
“It is.” Apollo frowned, mouth going tight and eyes distant. “You know...never mind. I’m sure you can’t miss the last day of camp.”
“Of course not.” Dylan’s throat scratched like the sequin-and-lace cape he was sewing. The only thing worse than Apollo not asking was Apollo asking out of some different, equally awful sense of guilt. The guy seriously looked like he was chewing straight pins at the thought. “They’ll need me there. But thanks.”
“Dustin’ll probably be back before the end of summer too. No guarantees but I’m thinking he may be back around the same week as my mom.”
“Great.” Like Dylan needed another reminder of how limited their time together was. Apollo’s mother would be back before the end of camp, and he had a feeling that her return to her mother-in-law flat over the garage would spell an end to any potential sexy times.
“Hey.” Ironing finished, Apollo came around the table to crouch next to Dylan’s chair. “You’re right, though.”
“About what?” Dylan paused the sewing so that he could turn and face Apollo.
“About how we should seize the summer while we have it.” Apollo tugged Dylan down for a soft kiss.
“Me and my big ideas,” Dylan said, the self-recrimination in his tone very much real.
“I just don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry—”
“You won’t,” Dylan lied, sour feeling giving way to a sharp burn. He didn’t need Apollo’s apologies. And if all he got were these kisses, these few moments, well, he wasn’t going to turn them down. He wasn’t that strong.
“You’re pretty wonderful, you know that?” The affection that had been in Apollo’s gaze all weekend was back, and the force of it nearly knocked Dylan off his chair. I could get lost in you. He’d never been one for drugs or hard partying, but Apollo was every bit as addictive as the adrenaline from a soccer match, any potential pain worth the effort of chasing that rush.
He leaned in, returning Apollo’s kiss with no regard for the fabric or pins surrounding him, only the knowledge that he had to seize this chance. And Apollo met him, fierceness for fierceness. Their lips and tongues tangled and Dylan nearly slid off the chair, but he clung to Apollo, who had a tight grip on his waist.
“What can I do to help you finish faster?” Apollo growled as he finally pulled away.
“I could pack this away and finish up tomorrow night—”
“Tell me where stuff goes.” Apollo went into mission-control mode, homing in on what needed to be done, even as his eyes made Dylan dark promises.
“Me. In the shower. With you.” Dylan couldn’t resist as he made fast work of cleaning up all the pins and folding fabrics. “Race you to the closest bath.”
“The shower in the hall bath down here is tiny.” Apollo made a face. “The master is bigger...” He made a different face as he trailed off, more startled than pained, like he’d only just figured out what he was proposing and wanted to yank the words back, protect his sacred space, but was too polite to do so.
“I’m going with closer. We can squish in, then dash up to my room,” Dylan said easily, trying to give Apollo space to deal with his conflicting emotions. He didn’t want to rush Apollo into anything he wasn’t ready to offer, no matter how much Dylan wanted it all.
“Sounds like a plan.” Apollo winked at him, but some of the sparkle was off his expression, the affection of a moment ago replaced with wariness.
Not liking that, Dylan tugged him closer. “It’s okay,” he said firmly. His chest squeezed, wishing there were a way to take some of Apollo’s pain, even if only for a bit. “You don’t have to be ready for anything more than this. There’s no timetable here.”
“Thanks.” Apollo kissed him soundly. “I’m sorry—”
“What you are going to be is the one stuck in the cold part of the shower.” Dylan cut him off, not wanting Apollo to feel he had to apologize for his grief and its limitations. He stuffed the rest of the sewing stuff away and sprinted for the bath, Apollo fast on his heels. His deep laugh was exactly what they both needed, and Dylan would do whatever it took to keep it coming.
Chapter Seventeen
“I’m not sure any part of me is cleaner than when I got in.” Dylan laughed. It was true—they were both wet, but the shower really had been too small for any fun and even soaping up had been a challenge.
“Hey, it’s not for lack of trying on my part.” Apollo groaned as he stepped around him. He opened the linen cupboard next to the sink only to discover a single blue towel. “Oh f—heck. There’s only one towel in here. I’ve been off my cleaning game lately—”
“Not a bad thing.” Dylan handed him the lone towel. “You’ve been having fun. And recuperating your back. It doesn’t always have to be work-work-work.”
“I know.” Apollo blotted off with the towel then handed it to Dylan.
“And you can ask me to do more than help with the girls and heat up food. I’m good for a load of laundry or whatever.” Dylan dried his hair first.
“You’re a guest,” Apollo protested.
Dylan’s face drooped and his exhale was one of defeat before he schooled his expression.
Crap. Way to fuck up, Lieutenant.
“Yeah, well, I’m a guest who can help.” Dylan scrubbed at his damp chest and stomach.
“I didn’t mean...” Apollo sighed. Did they really need to have this conversation right then? “We’re friends now, right? You and me. I just meant I don’t want you feeling obligated.”
“Yeah, well, I kind of like obligations.” Dylan handed the towel back again.
“You do?” Apollo couldn’t think of any other twenty-three-year-old eager for structure.
“Yeah.” Dylan shrugged, seemingly impervious to his nudity. “I like routine. Rules. Expectations. Growing up as the youngest, people never seemed to expect much from me and there wasn’t much routine I could count on. I know you think it’s nuts, but I really dig your systems.” His tentative smile made Apollo’s chest flutter. “When they’re not getting in the way of fun, that is.”
Dylan opened the bathroom door, looking back over his shoulder with a wink.
“Wait! You’re naked!”
“So are you.” Dylan plucked the towel from Apollo’s grasp.
“We can’t run naked through the house,” Apollo protested.
“I can be very, very fast. And quiet.” Dylan’s laugh was infectious. “And I’m planning to stay naked, soon as I lock my door behind you.”