The Backup Boyfriend (The Boyfriend Chronicles) (22 page)

He loved Dylan.

The knowledge was sharp, brutal, and unforgiving. Dylan had started this relationship on a lark, and Alec had fallen in love. Alec’s lips twisted wryly, biting back the hysterical laughter threatening to bubble to the surface. Noah had been right all along.

Damn, there’d be no living with his friend when he learned the truth.

The words from Dylan and Alec’s first time in bed came back.

It’s just sex. It doesn’t mean anything.

It doesn’t mean anything.

Alec tried to wrestle the growing fear into submission, feeling about two seconds away from a mental meltdown. He loved a man who had yet to define his sexual orientation, a man who called himself Alec’s backup boyfriend because, as far as Alec had been able to ascertain, he’d never even been in a serious relationship with a woman. Ever.

Jesus, Alec couldn’t even touch him in public.

Good God. Panic appeared to be the only viable option.

The throb at Alec’s temple felt powerful enough to burst a blood vessel. But of all the choices he had, coming unglued wasn’t one of them, not when Dylan had shared such an important part of his past. And, as Alec struggled to find the right words, Dylan finally went on.

“The last time I turned a trick, I just wanted enough money to buy a hamburger.” Dylan let out a bitter bark of laughter. “And not just any hamburger. I wanted the deluxe double cheeseburger from Swanson’s Diner.” He shook his head and looked at Alec. “Isn’t that the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard?”

“No.”

Dylan ignored Alec and kept on talking. “But the shithead was big, and he got rough, and I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I was choking.”

Alec’s eyes burned, and his words came out hoarse. “How old were you?”

“Fifteen.”

Christ
.

Alec gripped Dylan’s shoulder, but Dylan shifted until he was just out of reach, and Alec’s hand dropped to his lap. Any physical act of support wouldn’t be welcomed by Dylan, especially not in public, no matter how much Alec hurt for the boy Dylan had been. The reminder of the one-sidedness of their relationship left Alec feeling drained.

“I friggin’ lost control over my mouth and throat, no coordination at all,” Dylan went on. “So when he came, I thought I was drowning.”

Pulse pounding now, Alec struggled to keep the pain and the fury on Dylan’s behalf from showing.

“Anyway,” Dylan said with a shrug, “it turned out fine in the long run.”

“How the hell can you say that?”

Dylan sent Alec a small smile. “Cuz I stopped selling blowjobs after that. And a few hours later, I’d mentally recovered enough to hunt the SOB down. I found him getting rough with Rick.”

“The night you two met.”

“Yep,” Dylan said. “Gave me an even better reason to punch him. ’Course, the coward got me with the broken bottle in the back.” A grin crept up his face. “But the fight was fun while it lasted. Afterward, Rick patched me up, and I bought him dinner at Swanson’s Diner.”

At fifteen, Dylan had dealt with a horrendous experience by saving a stranger from an abusive john, making a new friend, and eating a deluxe double cheeseburger.

“I said so before, and I’ll say so again,” Alec said, slowly shaking his head. “You are an amazing person, Dylan Booth.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

Despite everything, the return of the cocky light in Dylan’s eyes made Alec smile, the mix of self-confidence and embarrassment in Dylan’s expression overwhelmingly endearing. A familiar flutter under Alec’s breastbone made him painfully aware of his predicament. And, as he tried to wrap his mind around all that had been shared, only one question remained.

How to survive loving Dylan without losing his mind.

~~~***~~~

The Wednesday after the Tigers game, Dylan entered the combination into the keyless entry on Alec’s front door and let out a sigh.

Man, what a sucky day.

His air compressor had finally taken its last gasp, and the replacement he’d purchased had been missing vital parts. He’d assumed the brand-new one would come complete with a regulator as stated on the box. He’d assumed wrong. By the time he’d made his way back to the hardware store and returned to the garage, missing regulator in hand, Dylan had been about three hours behind on an already busy hump day. The rest of the afternoon he’d scrambled to catch up, a feat he never quite accomplished.

Fortunately, everything was about to take a turn for the better.

With a prolonged beep, the lock released, and Dylan entered the house, inhaling the scent of garlic, herbs, and tomatoes. Alec’s afternoon off usually meant dinner would be especially delicious and sometimes included dessert. Today proved no exception. From the smell, Dylan guessed the oven contained his favorite: eggplant Parmesan.

How in the hell he’d wound up loving a meatless recipe Dylan would never know. He supposed he owed Tyler for the friggin’ fantastic variety of meals Alec loved to cook, half of which contained no meat. But neither an extraordinarily crappy day nor the thought of the ex could ruin Dylan’s mood.

Dylan tugged at his laces and toed off his boots before padding down the hallway toward the kitchen. He paused in the doorway and took in the familiar scene. Alec stood at the center island chopping vegetables for a salad, his back to Dylan. Studying Alec’s economy of movements, his efficiency in the kitchen, Dylan crossed his arms, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.

Used to be when Dylan looked at Alec, he saw the lean body of an academic. Then he began to appreciate the nicely formed ass and thick, dark hair great for burying fingers in during sex. Alec’s blue eyes broadcasted his every emotion—whether he was confident, babbling nervously, or completely mute— and Dylan found them totally compelling.

He especially loved to watch Alec’s eyes as he came.

There was no doubt the man enjoyed the sex too, but he also liked every other aspect of having a companion in his home. Alec oozed domesticity, enjoying simple activities like cooking for two or talking about his day over dinner. Despite Dylan’s protests, Alec even insisted on helping with the cleanup, preferring the company in the kitchen to relaxing in the living room alone. He always waited for Dylan to settle in front of the TV before picking up whatever reading material he chose for the evening. After years of living by himself, Dylan should have needed time to adjust.

Odd how comfortable he felt here. Over time, his spare tools had slowly made their way to Alec’s garage. Dylan had purchased a utility bench, setting the stainless steel table up in the corner. Dylan had claimed a rack along the wall and was now well on his way to filling the shelves. Alec had made a comment about breaking the sucker in, and Dylan had rolled his eyes, secretly pleased.

Sex with Alec defined the word awesome.

And now Dylan could choose between that quick, sharp hit of pleasure he craved or a long, slow burn that left him dying for more until he came. The relief of release was almost as thrilling as the orgasm itself.

Several days had passed since his confession, and Dylan felt lighter, freer, and more comfortable with Alec than he’d ever been with another person. He’d never shared that part of his past with anyone. Not even Rick.

Dylan braced himself for the crushing pain that always followed thoughts of his friend, but today the sensation resembled more of a dull ache. The gaping hole felt smaller and less sharply defined—about bloody time after five years.

Alec turned to reach for a red pepper and saw Dylan. “Hey. You’re home.”

Home.

Dylan’s lips quirked. “I got behind today, so I skipped changing the oil on the Ducati as planned.” No need to share he’d rescheduled the task, choosing to come home early because he knew Alec would already be here.

“Does she really need it?” Alec asked.

“Nothing but the best for my babies.”

Alec smiled, crinkles appearing at the corner of his eyes. “So I’ve gathered. What’s on your agenda for tonight?”

“You.”

Alec laughed, and a familiar light lit his gaze.

“Good,” Alec said. “I want to discuss something with you.”

The words plowed into Dylan like a speeding bus.

Shit. He recognized that look on Alec’s face, and it had nothing to do with sex. Dylan had seen the same expression on Alec several times since the football game. Dylan couldn’t be sure, but he had a feeling the things Alec wanted to talk about involved the future.

His chest grew tight, and Dylan cleared his throat, forcing a light tone. “You want to discuss switching to a new brand of lube?”

“No.” Alec nervously tucked his hair behind his ears. “I’m hoping you can pry your mind out of the gutter for five minutes because there’s something I want to ask you.”

Fuck. He hated being right.

Needing time to regroup, Dylan said, “We can talk over dinner. I’ll just snag a beer and go wash up before we eat.” He pulled open the refrigerator door and grabbed a bottle, escaping into the garage.

“I’ll finish the salad,” Alec called after him.

Heart hammering at a stupid rate, Dylan stood and stared blankly at his wall of tools, wondering how he’d gotten himself into this predicament. Questions clogged his thoughts and left him unsure what to do next.

As far as Dylan could figure, Alec had wanted to have this discussion for several days. Dylan, being the friggin’ coward he was, had never encouraged Alec to share his thoughts. Only one possibility made sense. The man was going to ask him to move in, for them to live together like a
couple
.

Jesus.

Dylan didn’t know which to do first, laugh at the absurdity of his situation, panic, or give the idea serious consideration. The thought of laying claim to half of Alec’s bed held a definite appeal, and for more than just the obvious advantages.

Dylan took an insanely embarrassing amount of pleasure in sleeping next to Alec. In fact, Dylan had come to hate waking alone. He craved the heat and loved the feel of skin on skin. Wrapping himself around Alec, or vice versa, came as naturally as breathing.

But he sure as hell didn’t want to be someone’s significant other.

He pushed the conflicting feelings aside and headed for his Indian Blackhawk parked next to the workbench, which had tools spread out across the top. He picked up an Allen wrench and absently rubbed his thumb along the metal tool, his head swirling.

“Thirty more minutes till dinner,” Alec said as he entered the garage. “Maybe we should talk now.”

Dylan tensed, still unprepared for the possible discussion.

The look returned to Alec’s face, and he stepped closer. “Dylan—”

“My old air compressor finally died today.” Heart wedged in his throat, Dylan turned and knelt at the motorcycle, running his finger along the chain as if testing the tension. He should have bolted for home, like
ten minutes ago
. “I had to buy a new one.”

There was a two-second pause before Alec responded. “From what you’ve said, the event was well overdue.” He sounded hesitant now, almost guarded.

Dylan fought to remain calm, at least on the outside.

“Yep,” Dylan said. “It got to the point where fixing the sucker cost more than purchasing a new one.”

“Dylan,” Alec said. “I—”

“I meant to ask you earlier. How’s Tyler?”

Dylan kept his eyes on the bike. Clearly he’d gone off the deep end if he was asking about the ex to dodge the conversation. Dylan suppressed the scoff threatening to escape. Next he’d be calling and inviting Tyler over to share their meal, just to delay the inevitable.

“He’s fine,” Alec said. “Noah’s still giving him shit. And he’s bummed Logan can’t make it to awards ceremony.” He cleared his throat. “Which reminds me, there’s something I want to ask—”

Alec’s cellular rang, and Dylan gripped the chain and closed his eyes, grateful for the delay, his mind scrambling. How would he avoid the discussion without pushing Alec away? Dylan glanced at Alec from the corner of his eye as Alec answered with a hello.

Immediately Alec’s expression fell. “Hi, Mom.” He turned, his profile facing Dylan as he went on. “I told you, that’s not necessary.”

Dylan could just make out a female voice droning over the phone, and he pretended he wasn’t straining to hear the words. Now he was sorry they’d been interrupted because, while he might be a complete chicken shit about discussions involving the future, he hated seeing Alec upset.

Alec’s lips grew tight. “I know, it’s just—”

The words died as his mother’s voice continued, and Alec stepped away from the table—away from Dylan—and began to pace. Dylan watched Alec walk back and forth. A few more minutes passed as the telephone conversation continued, and the tension in Alec’s shoulders never eased. Unfortunately, Alec’s mumbled one-word answers gave no clue as to the topic.

Alec finally said goodbye and slipped his phone into the pocket of his khakis, heading back to Dylan. “My mother.”

“Yeah,” Dylan said with a small smile, hoping to cheer Alec up. “The ‘hi, Mom’ was kind of a giveaway.”

Alec didn’t go on, and Dylan gnawed on his lip. Should he let the moment pass? Employ an evasive maneuver and bolt for home, as planned? Or should he ask Alec about the phone conversation? In the end, Dylan couldn’t ignore the dejected look on Alec’s face, the eyes bleeding vulnerability.

Not when the expression made Dylan’s chest ache.

“What’s up?” Dylan asked.

Alec met his gaze. “My parents are still planning on coming to the awards ceremony.”

“Well, hey, that’s good, right?”

Alec rubbed his forehead with both hands as if to scrub away his worries. He seemed unsure of his answer.

“Or not,” Dylan went on softly.

Tyler knew why having the parents attend the reception was a problem, but not Dylan. The ex knew, and Dylan didn’t have a fucking clue. The realization annoyed the hell out of him. And the fault clearly belonged to Dylan.

Alec dropped his hands to his side. “I purchased a new mirror for my bike. I’ll go get it from my car.”

He disappeared out the side door leading to the driveway, and Dylan stared after him. He could spot the evasive maneuver from a mile away, especially since his personal superpower was Avoidance. Dylan was still debating what to do about Alec when he returned to the garage, a rearview mirror in his hand.