“And how do you propose we do that?”
“Call the poison control center?” Dylan suggested with a shrug.
Alec’s lips twitched. “I am so not making that call.”
~~~***~~~
One Week Later
From his sky-box seat on the fifty yard line, Dylan leaned back in his comfy leather chair, feeling out of sorts and wondering why the hell Jack Davis came to the Tigers’ football game if he preferred to chat with his guests. Enclosed in glass, the air-conditioned room comfortably held two dozen people and protected them from the elements—or, as Dylan suspected, from the unwashed masses busy screaming for their team. Three big screen TVs hung on the surrounding walls and broadcasted the game, just in case anybody wanted to actually watch the activity taking place on the field below.
Noah utilized his time working the crowd of rich guests as they enjoyed the hospitality of the even richer Jack Davis. Most likely Noah intended to secure more donations for the Front Street Housing Fund. Dylan was watching the game, enjoying a mug of beer and a plate of cheese sticks with marinara sauce. Alec sat to Dylan’s left, talking to Tyler.
His ex-boyfriend.
Dylan wrestled the resentful frown into submission as he watched the two from the corner of his eye, hoping his overly attentive scrutiny managed to go unnoticed. But he could barely spell discreet, much less pull the act off.
A hand clapped his shoulder from behind, and Dylan tensed as if punched.
Busted.
Palm on Dylan’s back, Noah leaned in to address Tyler and Alec. “Tell me again who I’m supposed to be rooting for, the blue guys or the red?”
Dylan let out a silent breath. “Jesus, Noah.” Dylan forced his muscles to relax, grateful the overwhelming task of keeping two teams straight had rendered his sharp-eyed friend unusually oblivious to the subject of Dylan’s scrutiny. “The ones with the Tigers on their helmets.”
Despite the first-class environment of the sky box, Dylan preferred Danny’s Suds and Sports for watching football games. Since the start of football season, he and Alec had fallen into the habit of spending one night a week at the sports bar watching the game. On the other nights, Alec cooked, and Dylan cleaned up.
Dylan had existed on takeout for more years than he could remember. As far as he was concerned, the food pyramid should be constructed of Styrofoam containers. Lately, though, Dylan had grown fond of a home-cooked meal. He also preferred the comfort of Alec’s house, which had excellent food and Alec for company. The cooking process provided a whole new variety of ways for Dylan to get his hands on the man while he couldn’t defend himself. Better yet, groping was not only welcome it was actively encouraged. And so what if the touching sometimes held zero sexual intent? Dylan was learning to be okay with that too.
But, right now, what thrilled Dylan the most about their time at home was the absence of Alec’s ex.
“Tigers? Is that what’s pictured on their helmets?” Noah squinted at one of the TVs on the far wall. “No wonder they lose. The cute little cartoon tiger is hardly a kick-ass kind of image.”
Tyler smiled, Alec laughed, and Dylan knew he should too.
He just…couldn’t.
“Tell me again why we’re here?” Dylan asked. “You don’t even like football, Noah.”
“I will always be in favor of a sport with men called eligible receivers or tight ends. Especially when a play involves those men piling on top of one another.” He swiped a lock of brown hair from his forehead. “Though the Catholic in me objects to the term Hail Mary pass.”
Alec stared at Noah as if seeing him in a new light. “You’re Catholic?”
Tyler tossed his ex a look. “Only when the label suits him, which—”
“Is never,” Alec said, completing the thought.
Damn, bad enough the two had decided to become friends again, but did they really need to finish each other’s sentences? Frowning, Dylan concentrated on the football players crashing into each other below.
After two years together— Shit, Tyler and Alec had lived together for two years.
Dylan had never been bothered by that fact before. Why now? Most likely the whole tag-team conversation thing represented a habit more than anything else. But still…
Feeling cranky sucked, and Dylan knew he was being an unreasonable bastard. Technically, he and Alec weren’t even dating. They were just…two friends enjoying some primo benefits.
Dylan chose not to hurt himself dwelling on the thought for long.
Instead, he pretended to be interested in the cheerleaders down below. Women in unbelievable short shorts and what could only generously be called tank tops, doing intriguingly bendy things. He appreciated the view. That definitely hadn’t changed. He just wished he could work up a little more enthusiasm for following through.