“I know, but they behave like some.”
“Agreed. Now, why are you pissed at me?” Because clearly he is, and I’m a little surprised by the cold shoulder I’ve received.
“Your stupid boyfriend texted me to say he was sorry I was going through something like this,” he says with a hard smile.
“Fucking Bruce.”
“He also added I shouldn’t look at him the way I do because it makes you uncomfortable,” he adds sharply. “Care to tell me what that’s about?”
I could tell him Julie told Bruce that Dex wants to fuck him, but that would just make things worse between them, or I could protect my girl and throw Bruce under the bus. I choose option two.
“He has it in his head you want to fuck him,” I say.
“I would find that funny if he didn’t used to be my type.”
I don’t miss when Dex glances in my direction, and a smile spreads on my face. I wrap my arm around his shoulders to bring him closer to me.
“Come on, little prince, let’s go back to your father’s house and have a beer, all right?”
“Luke, I need to do something.”
“No, you don’t. You don’t need to take care of me.”
“I beg you. And you know I don’t beg.”
Dex and I are sitting on his father’s expensive-looking leather couch and drinking beer. He wants to hear the business problem I encountered last week at the parlor so he can get his mind off his father. His stepmother forced him to go home to rest, as it seems he’s barely slept. I insisted that he lie down, but of course, he refused. You don’t tell Dex what to do. You can’t even hint at a suggestion. He knows better. At least he thinks so.
We’re slouching toward each other, our shoulders almost touching and our hands extremely close. All I want to do is rub my nose on his neck and hold his dick. Of course, thinking of that makes me hard, and I don’t miss the glance Dex sends me, or his smirk when he sees the bulge in my pants. My brain screams danger, so I adjust my posture and put a little more space between us.
“I don’t know how it happened, but we forgot to order black ink, so we ran out. I was furious. A tattoo parlor without black ink? It wouldn’t have been such a problem if Dan and his band weren’t coming for new tats. Then our computer system went down for two days. Our calendars were such a freaking mess. We rely way too much on technology…” As our gazes meet, I lose track of what I’m saying. My problems are far less interesting than the desire in his eyes.
A heavy silence falls between us. The intensity of his look would make me uncomfortable if I weren’t trying to talk myself out of him kissing me. I shouldn’t. I can’t be a friend with benefits anymore, and it’s not the time to ask for more. Also, I haven’t resolved my Bruce problem.
Dex wets his lips, and I bite mine, confused by what I know I should do and the action my body is begging to be part of. He leans forward and brushes his hands against mine. I’m light-headed and can’t stop what could happen in the next second. I’m like a squirrel in the middle of the road, with my dick as high as its tail and the rest of me petrified by what’s coming.
He moves closer, erasing the little distance I had put between us, and my hair rises on every part of my body. Forget the squirrel, I’m a porcupine, my beard displaying my quills. I hold my breath, waiting for his next move, but close my eyes to block it. I feel his breath on my lips, and at the moment I know will forever change what I think of myself, his phone rings.
“I should take this,” he whispers, his lips brushing mine.
Relieved, I let out the breath I was holding and open my eyes. Dex is looking at me with narrowed eyes, his head cocked to the side. I send him a reassuring smile, but in my head, I’ve fucked him a thousand times. I hate myself for it. I’m a lot of things, but a cheater isn’t one of them. I’m loyal from head to toe and especially with the tip of my dick. I need to let Bruce go, even if it means nobody will protect my heart anymore.
I glance at Dex, and I see the instant he learns something happened to his father. A grave expression crosses his face, and his eyes become empty. He loses all his careful posture, and his body seems to melt.
“I should have been there,” he says in a shaky voice. He nods a couple of times before hanging up and walking outside of the house.
Virginia and Ryan are outside, chatting on the driveway. Dex runs into her arms as if she’s the only one who can comfort him now. I know that’s not true—I know I could as well—but I envy her for having all of his heart. I take out my phone and send a group message to Ian and Julie, telling them to come over. Ryan envelops Dex and Virginia, and I wait patiently for any indication that I should come closer.
Asher and Emma arrive, already crying. They join in the group hug with no hesitation whatsoever. Ian and Julie do the same when they get there, holding Dex so he doesn’t fall. I see Ryan backing away, and that’s my cue to come in. I grab his shirt and push him back into the huddle. We’re all here for Dex, and nobody should be left stranded when we unite our forces to help a friend in need.
We hug for a long time until Dex lets Virginia go. Asher is the one holding her now. Ryan leads them to Ian’s house. I should be worried about the kid, but all I can see is Dex. I want to take his pain and carry his burden.
“Do you want me to drive you to the hospital?” Ian asks.
Dex shakes his head. “Ellen took care of everything. There’s nothing for me to do.”
Ian squeezes Dex’s shoulder and waits for his friend to process the fact that he’s not needed.
Clearly feeling her brother’s distress, Emma wraps her arms around his waist. “I love you, Dex.”
He kisses the top of her head, and a tear rolls down his cheek. “I love you too. I’ll always be there for you.”
He walks away with her glued to his side. Ian, Julie, and I stay standing in the driveway, not really knowing what to do next.
Dex stops and turns around to face us. “Luke, are you coming?”
It’s more a plea than a question, and I can’t disappoint my boy. I nod and jog to him, then wrap my arm around his neck while Emma holds his waist. I have no idea where we’re going, but at least we’re going together.
14
Dex
Something isn’t right with me. I’m drinking gin, having a stupid bonfire on the beach, my best friends are laughing, and I’m almost enjoying myself, but my father is dead. What the fuck am I doing?
I hate gin.
I hate bonfires.
And I certainly don’t care to hear stories about how great Johanan Livingston Crawford the Third was. I already know. He’s the one who taught me all I know. He never let the nannies or house staff teach me things a father should; he did it. He fought our mother to prevent Clay and me from attending boarding school. He taught us how to drive and shoot a gun, made sure I knew how to hold my alcohol, and once I came out, he became the biggest gay rights supporter the country has ever had.
My father didn’t care about family traditions and didn’t follow the rules about naming his child after an ancestor. At least, he didn’t care about that for my sister. Clay and I didn’t get so lucky. Belinda was in charge back then. I still remember how she reacted when she learned Clay and Virge had named their son Asher. She went on forever about Virginia never being good enough, which was ridiculous. Maybe the Porters didn’t come here on the Mayflower, but they’re as much old money as we are. After all, our ancestors built the damn city where we grew up.