Jesus, he was turning into the clingy, psychotic girlfriend.
But, damn it, he wasn’t stalking Alec. After days of no contact, Dylan was simply dropping by to ask if Alec had changed his mind about the poker run. Man to man. Friend to friend.
Nothing girly about that at all.
He dismounted, pausing before he flipped the kickstand down. The neighborhood skirted the edges of questionable, so he pushed his bike up the walk, grateful he’d driven his beater Yamaha instead of something he valued more. A large RV was parked on the side street, the words Mobile Medical Unit in red lettering on the side.
After a few seconds of deliberation, Dylan left his motorcycle along the right side of the building’s walkway and pulled open the front door. Done in basic, boring gray, the office just met the standards for functional. Scuffed linoleum. Basic furniture. The walls were blank other than a few posters proclaiming the importance of using condoms.
Dylan passed through the empty waiting room and headed for the utilitarian front desk. A middle-aged lady sat in front of a computer, her salt-and-pepper hair pulled back. The baggy sleeves of her scrubs flapped at her shoulders as her fingers flew across the keyboard.
Without even looking up, she said, “Can I help you?”
“I need to speak with Dr. Johnson.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Uh, no,” Dylan said. “Can you tell him Dylan Booth is here to see him?”
Her fingers finally stopped clacking away on the computer, and she shot Dylan a lethal look she’d probably spent years perfecting. Dylan adopted his most charming smile. Unfortunately, she was less than impressed.
She peered around his shoulder before returning that fierce gaze to his. “The walkway isn’t a parking lot.”
“Huh?”
“It’s a walkway.” When Dylan simply blinked in confusion, she continued as if participating in a spelling bee. “W-A-L-K—”
“I know how to spell walkway,” Dylan said drily.
Man, the dragon lady was one tough customer.
He smiled again. “If you’ll just speak with Dr. Johnson—”
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to make an appointment.”
She returned her focus to her computer with more concentration than a Friday afternoon at five o’clock deserved. Either she was an overly dedicated employee or she was intentionally giving Dylan the brush-off. Heck, much more of this and his ego would start taking all these rejections personally.
Dylan leaned his elbows on the counter. “Just tell Dr. Johnson his boyfriend is here,” Dylan said and had the distinct satisfaction of watching Dragon Lady’s expression freeze.
The sight was definitely worth the risk Alec would consider Dylan the backup boyfriend that wouldn’t go away.
“What did you say your name was again?” she asked.
His grin grew bigger. “Dylan Booth. D-Y-L—”
“All right. All right.” Dragon lady pushed her rolling chair back from the desk. “No need to be a smartass.” She waved her hand at the empty waiting room consisting of a dozen plastic chairs and end tables with piles of magazines. “Have a seat.”
Dylan shot her his most charming smile. Again. “Thanks.”
She lifted her eyes heavenward in a what-a-piece-of-work expression.
Fifteen minutes later, Dylan fidgeted against the hard seat. He’d done a lot of thinking lately and come to the conclusion that, for the first time in his life, he had regrets. Or more accurately, one very big regret. Which was a strange feeling after a long-standing commitment to living in the present—because screw the past. She was a done deal. And screw the future cuz she was a fickle bitch.
No getting around the truth though. He’d messed up royally. As much as he’d enjoyed the life-altering sex, he’d found he missed Alec’s company more, enough that he’d trade in the un-fucking-believable memories just to have Alec back in his life.
As someone who appreciated good sex and happily spent most of his downtime alone, the thought was friggin’ disturbing.
“Dylan?”
Dylan looked up and did his best to keep the groan from escaping. How many conversations was he gonna have to suffer through before he spoke with Alec?
Tyler stood in front of him. His smooth, black hair just reached the tops of his ears, and the man looked watchful, all emotion carefully barricaded behind those iced-gray eyes.
“I’m here to see Alec,” Dylan said.
Well, duh, no shit, Sherlock.
A small smile briefly flickered across Tyler’s face. “I guessed as much,” he said. “I know the relationship started out fake. But you two looked pretty serious by the end of Noah’s party.”