“Okay,” Alec said, drawing out the vowels. “But he is in charge this year.”
Plowing a hand through his hair, Dylan said, “I know.” He turned to face Alec and dropped his arm to his side. “But now he wants to run the whole thing in teams. Which is a ridiculously dumb idea. And the food he’s serving at each stop is friggin’ weird.”
Gaze intense, Alec said, “Dylan, why are you really here?”
Dylan stuck his hands in the back pocket of his jeans, running through his response in his mind. As the fifth anniversary of the poker run slowly drew near, the antsier Dylan grew. Five years without his best friend felt like a milestone—a really depressing milestone. The dark thoughts left him biting back the real answer to Alec’s question and the words that were filling Dylan’s chest, itching to get out.
Because I wanted to see you again.
Because I’ve missed your company.
Because I need you as a friend.
Fuck, the creepy melancholy was seriously mucking with his brain.
All Dylan could come up with was pretty lame. “I came because I hoped to talk you into being the fifth on my team for the poker run.”
“Dylan.” Alec blew out a breath. “I think—”
“Hands to myself.” Dylan held up his arms, palms facing Alec, as if taking a two-handed solemn pledge. “I promise. Besides, you don’t want to miss out on all of Noah’s hard work, do you?”
Dylan wasn’t sure why getting Alec to ride along felt so important. More important than work. More important than even the poker run itself.
“Come on, Alec.” Despite the urgency pounding its way through Dylan’s brain, he sent Alec an easy smile, hoping to take the edge out of the moment. “You got something better to do next weekend?”
Alec’s lips quirked. “Not really.”
“Good,” Dylan said, pouncing on the admission as though Alec had said yes. Best just to keep moving forward. “I’ll plan on meeting you at the starting point.”
Alec hesitated, looking if he was about to protest, so Dylan quickly went on. “Trust me, you don’t want to miss Noah wearing his hot pink T-shirt with the words Drama Queen In Charge.”
Alec laughed, his eyes crinkling in the corners, and Dylan smiled his first real smile since landing at the Front Street Clinic.
Dragon Lady appeared from around the corner, a large tote slung over her shoulders. “Good night, Alec.”
“’Night, Martha,” Alec said. “See you Monday.”
When the woman narrowed her eyes at Dylan, he smiled. “Careful you don’t trip over that motorcycle parked on the walkway,” Dylan said, enjoying the visual daggers she lobbed in his direction. “And thanks for all your help.”
Martha let out a snort as she passed by and pushed her way out the front door.
“Good employees are hard to fine,” Alec said with a wry twist of his lips. “Next time you drop in to say hello, I’d be most appreciative if you wouldn’t piss off my staff.”
The words next time echoed in Dylan’s head, feeling almost like a victory and easing the two-week-old tightness in his chest. “Sure thing, man. Whatever you say.”
Alec hesitated. “There’s a football game tonight.”
Instead of interrupting, this time Dylan knew to keep his mouth shut, feeling hopeful as Alec went on.
“Ole Miss versus Vanderbilt,” Alec said. “Should be good. You want to go grab some dinner and watch the game?”
Dylan grinned at Alec, the victory officially real. “Absolutely.”
~~~***~~~
The day of the Fifth Annual Vintage Memorial Poker Run began with a glorious sunrise and the buzz, buzz, buzz of Alec’s cellular against his nightstand. He barely stifled the moan. No need to check the number to see who was calling.
“Mom.” Alec’s pillow muffled his voice as he answered. “It’s five o’clock in the morning.”
During the pause that followed, Alec pictured her blank face, the subtext in his comment completely lost on his mother.
He tried again. “And it’s a Saturday.”
The added information didn’t seem to help.
Alec shifted to a more comfortable position in bed. “Why are you up so early?”
“I’m working on an article I’m writing for the Journal of Nanoscience and Nanotechnology.”
As usual, a stab of guilt followed. He couldn’t fault his mother for being, well, her. Like his father, she was a brilliant researcher and the ultimate geek, but loving in her own odd way. She hadn’t batted an eye when, at the age of sixteen, Alec had announced he was gay. He’d spent months working up the courage to come out to his family, and their reaction had been awfully anticlimactic. Suddenly he couldn’t turn around without being inundated with supportive pamphlets and facts and figures about gay teens, all courtesy of his mother.
She’d applied the same energy to overturning DOMA and Proposition 8.
“What are you and dad doing tonight?” Alec asked.
“Preparing our presentation for the Nano Fundamentals and Applications Conference next month.”