“Christ, Mom,” Alec said at the same time Dylan blurted out, “Hell no.”
The suffocating feeling reached its zenith. Five heartbeats pounded painfully by as two sets of identical blue eyes—Emily’s a blank, blinking stare and Alec’s more of a horrified gaze—remained firmly fixed on Dylan. He finally succumbed to the desperate need to bolt.
“Excuse me,” Dylan said hoarsely and pivoted on his heel, taking off in search of air.
~~~***~~~
“Mom, I’ve got to go,” Alec said.
“But—”
Alec ignored whatever she’d been about to say, heading for the French doors as he followed Dylan’s path. Once outside, he paused on the brick patio.
The evening was beautiful, crisp and clear. The lights of the city spread out below, headlights streaming by like ribbons of light. He spotted Dylan standing in the corner between the wall and the metal railing that provided protection from the considerable height, his hands pressed against the top bar.
Alec came to a stop and crossed his arms against the pressure beneath his sternum, fighting not to fall apart. There was so much riding on the next few minutes. His future. Dylan’s future. Their happiness. Alec knew Dylan played the part convincingly, but prior to their relationship, he hadn’t been happy.
“Your mother is really something,” Dylan said.
“I know,” Alec said softly, but this wasn’t the conversation they were about to have.
The cool, nighttime breeze smelled of recent rain and ruffled Dylan’s hair as Alec waited.
Dylan still didn’t look at him. “At least I’m more convincing as the backup boyfriend this go-around.”
If Alec heard that term one more time he’d puke.
“Christ, Dylan. We’ve spent every night together for the past three weeks. We’ve tried every sexual position in my repertoire, and a few that were new to me—”
“Really?”
For some inexplicable reason, Dylan looked pleased, as if succeeding at sex was a mission to be accomplished. Nothing wrong with admirable goals and all, but seriously.
“Yes,” Alec said. “But that’s not the point. The point is you’re still hell bent on pretending this relationship isn’t real.”
“Whoa.” Dylan threw up a hand as if to stop traffic, eyes wide with shock. “Nobody said anything about a relationship—”
“Bullshit.”
Alec watched Dylan’s mouth work, jaw clenching and unclenching as he scanned Alec’s gaze. And then Dylan shifted his focus to the door beyond. Hoping for an interruption? Looking for an escape route?
The pain beneath Alec’s ribs made every breath hurt.
“Because I don’t know about you,” Alec went on, “but this began to feel real a long time ago.”
Dylan looked as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to run screaming from the building or throw himself over the rail.
“Dude, I’m not…” Dylan plowed a hand through his hair. “We don’t…” He dropped his hands and began to pace along the low brick wall. “I am not your boyfriend.”
Alec inhaled, trying to rein in his frustration. And his pain. He watched Dylan stride to the end of the small patio and return, waiting until Dylan was close enough to hear the words that came out low.
“Do you enjoy spending time with me?” Alec asked.
Dylan frowned. “’Course I do.”
“Do you, or do you not, enjoy having sex with me?”
“Dude.” Dylan whirled, his frown bigger as he strode closer, coming to a stop in front of Alec. “I am not gonna dignify that with a response. But that’s just friendship with…with…” He rolled his hand in the air, as if the motion would help him find the right word. “Extras.”
“Benefits.”
He threw his hands up. “Whatthefuckever, man. Does it really matter what it’s called? The bottom line is, I don’t want to be labeled as anybody’s boyfriend.”
Alec forced himself to steadily meet the turbulent green gaze, debating his next move. He could say no. He could go on pretending it didn’t matter. At least he had Dylan in his life. But he was tired of Dylan referring to himself as the fake boyfriend.
And Alec couldn’t live in limbo anymore.
“And what if Tyler claimed he wanted me back?” Alec asked, and Dylan’s features froze. But the man said nothing, so Alec pushed forward. “What if I told you I was going back to him?”
“Fuck a duck,” Dylan said, scowling as he moved closer. “Is that true?”
Alec held his gaze and refused to step back. Or back down. “Does it matter?”
“Oh, heck yeah, it matters.”
“So what would you say?”
Dylan’s chest rose and fell with every aggressive breath. “I’d say you don’t belong with him.”
Hope flared bright, almost consuming the pain. “Then who do I belong with, Dylan?”
Me, Alec wanted to hear him say. Me.
Instead, Dylan said, “How the heck should I know?”
The clamp around his chest grew tighter, and Alec pretended to remain calm. “You’re not the first man who’s struggled with his sexual orientation.”