Alec knew he’d screwed up big time. He didn’t need his friend to beat him about the head with the idea.
Noah apparently didn’t care. “And I know Dylan even better than I know you. He’ll seek out the pleasurable activity without a second thought. And you, my friend, are incapable of fucking a guy for fun and keeping your heart out of the way.”
Alec struggled with the need to close his eyes, refusing to share that his heart might already be involved.
Prolonging the end will only make this worse.
Alec dropped his hands to his sides. “Fine,” he said before turning and heading off.
“Where are you going?” Noah asked.
“To the kitchen.”
“What for?”
Alec kept walking, his feet feeling a hundred pounds each. “To tell Dylan goodbye.”
~~~***~~~
As the stainless steel coffee machine sputtered out the last drops into the carafe, Dylan scanned the room containing white tile, mahogany wood, and enough gadgets to supply a kitchen store. Dylan knew the dude liked to cook, but seriously. Somewhere in this well-stocked kitchen there had to be coffee cups. After several tries, Dylan managed to find the right cabinet and filled a mug. He propped his hip against the counter and sipped the black brew, enjoying the scent and the much-needed shot of caffeine.
He was just wondering if Noah was done raking Alec over the coals—and whether it was safe to return to the living room—when Alec entered the kitchen, his bare feet silent against the floor.
Noah’s presence had allowed for zero time to discuss the happenings in Alec’s bedroom, and the low-grade tension now made Dylan uneasy. Without a word, he reached into the cabinet with the mugs and filled a second cup, passing the coffee to Alec.
“Thanks,” Alec said, adding cream from the refrigerator.
The man seemed to be having trouble meeting his eyes.
Damn, this wasn’t what Dylan wanted.
“I didn’t mean to—” Dylan began, just as Alec said, “I shouldn’t have—”
They both fell silent, and Dylan raised his coffee in Alec’s direction. “You first.”
“Noah’s right. Last night was a mistake.”
Annoyance started its engines low in Dylan’s gut. He wasn’t sure why Alec’s statement ticked him off so much. Yes, he’d had the same thought. Yes, he was now feeling more awkward and antsy than a prostitute at Sunday mass. And, okay, so they were just now starting to sort through the consequences of their actions. But, damn it…
Dylan refused to regret his choices.
“I think we should take a breather,” Alec said.
Dylan frowned in confusion. A breather?
“I mean…” Alec rubbed his eyes. “I think we shouldn’t see each other for a while.”
Dylan set his mug on the counter with a clunk. “Why not?”
Holy Christ on a stick, now he sounded like a clingy woman.
“Come on, Dylan. Things are weird enough. I don’t think continuing with the one-on-one motorcycle lessons is a wise move.”
Dylan massaged his forehead, ignoring the headache blooming in the background. “Why don’t we just chalk the whole thing up to some Guys Gone Wild thing and pretend the night never happened?”
“You can do that?”
Heck, no.
“Absolutely,” he said instead.
The flash of emotion in Alec’s eyes was brief but still managed to twist Dylan’s gut into knots. Great, now the vulnerable look on Alec’s face was courtesy of Dylan, not Alec’s ex. And the knowledge didn’t sit well.
“Maybe in a couple of months we can see where we are,” Alec said, but Dylan got the distinct impression Alec had no intention of following through. “But, for now, I think it’s best if we don’t see each other.”
Alec was giving Dylan the brush-off. Politely, of course. But still a brush-off.
An unfamiliar sensation crept up Dylan’s spine. Hunh, so this was how it felt for a woman when he reminded them that one night was all he’d agreed to. In the future, he’d have to remember how much it sucked to be on the receiving end.
But, for some reason, Dylan wasn’t ready to give up. “What about the poker run?”
Dylan wasn’t sure why, but he really wanted Alec around for the fundraiser.
“Maybe next year I’ll sign up to participate,” Alec said.
Fuck. Bad enough this was the fifth anniversary of the run. Now the event Dylan had been looking forward to for weeks felt less and less like the much-needed distraction he’d require to survive Rick’s birthday without going bonkers.
Still, even though sleeping with a guy didn’t threaten Dylan’s masculinity, acting like a clingy, psychotic girlfriend sure as heck would.
“Okay, man. If that’s what you want,” Dylan said. He studied Alec’s blue eyes before moving his mug to the sink. “See ya around.”
Without looking back, Dylan headed out of Alec’s house.
Chapter Eight
Two weeks later, Dylan parked his motorcycle in front of the Front Street Clinic.