The Backup Boyfriend (The Boyfriend Chronicles) (28 page)

He was living the life he wanted, but he’d let a sense of obligation to be the “perfect” gay color the details along the way. Even his decision to live with Tyler and his desire to make their relationship legal.

“I don’t understand the sudden change of heart,” his mother finally said. “You fought for months so you could get married.”

“No.” Frustrated, the words came out more forceful than he intended. “I was fighting for my right to
choose
.” He reigned in the emotion, easing his tone. “There’s a difference.”

Alec scrubbed his face with his hand, letting the truth in his words sink in.

He knew his mother just wanted him happy. Unfortunately, she also believed society’s opinions mattered to him. Or maybe they simply mattered to her. Either way, he couldn’t afford to care anymore.

“But ultimately,” Alec said, “I don’t need a piece of paper with the government’s stamp of approval to validate my feelings.”

Labels.

Dylan was right. They didn’t need labels. Or a title. He wanted to grow old with Dylan by his side, and saying “I do” in front of a judge wouldn’t make Alec any more committed than he already was. Neither would Dylan defining himself as gay. Or bisexual. Or any other variant Dylan refused to choose. And if Dylan spent the rest of his life with Alec, all the while refusing to be called a “partner” or a “significant other,” well, Alec would consider himself the luckiest guy on the planet.

When he stripped everything unnecessary away, all that remained was how he felt about Dylan. He was the other half of their matched set, the vital part Alec had sensed he was missing all along.

“Does Dylan love you?” she asked.

Alec’s heart twisted painfully. “I think so, yes.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I’m saying, I’m hoping he’ll take me back so I can spend the rest of my life with a man who’ll never agree to marriage, Mom.”

His mother’s tone sounded doubtful. “And you could be happy with that, Alec?”

Every cell in his body screamed
yes
, forcing Alec to clutch his phone harder just to keep from losing his grip. He’d take a lifetime of uncertainty with Dylan over a sure-thing marriage to someone else. Christ, at this point, Alec couldn’t even count on seeing Dylan again, much less fixing the problems between them.

His mother went on. “You’d be okay, ten years from now, with me still introducing him as your boyfriend?”

A small smile edged up his lips. “He might not even let you do that.”

~~~***~~~

With Tyler’s words in mind, Alec set about to do as suggested: achieve happiness. All in all, a fairly lofty goal for an unremarkable Wednesday evening.

Of course, the only way to truly achieve said condition was to win Dylan back.

With a knot of nerves in his stomach, Alec made his way up the street on his Harley. The knot grew tighter when he rounded the corner and spied the large red sign
Adams’ Classic Motors
.

Conventional wisdom probably stated that, since Dylan was the one who’d left, he should be the one to come to Alec. Then again, Tyler had probably thought the same thing about Memphis. And that hadn’t done Tyler any good.

So, screw conventional wisdom. Nothing about his and Dylan’s relationship had been conventional. Why start now?

Alec rumbled up the driveway, parked the motorcycle, and stepped into the dim light of the garage. Despite the gaping garage door, the building was stuffy, the air humid. A hard rock song echoed in the space, but not so loud as to be obnoxious.

When Alec caught sight of Dylan squatting next to a decrepit motorcycle, inhaling and exhaling became a bit of a chore.

Sweat clung to Dylan’s neck and dotted his T-shirt as he gripped a wrench, straining to loosen the bolt on the front tire. “Shit,” Dylan muttered.

Alec’s heart stalled in his chest, and he froze, convinced Dylan had seen him arrive.

Clearly oblivious, Dylan let out another string of curses as he leaned his weight down on the wrench. Given the amount of rust on the bike, Dylan’s goal seemed hopeless.

Alec came to a stop a few feet from the motorcycle, waiting for Dylan to sense his presence. But, with his eyes tightly closed, his face scrunched in concentration, Dylan didn’t notice. Instead, Dylan’s biceps continued to bulge as he fought the bolt.

“She looks like a fickle one,” Alec said.

The tool slipped from Dylan’s hand and landed with a
clang
, skittering across the concrete. From his squatting position, Dylan met Alec’s gaze, eyes wary as his hand rested on the motorcycle’s exhaust pipe. Alec couldn’t tell if the man was glad to see him, mad at the interruption, or just annoyed with the uncooperative bike in general.

“Yep,” Dylan said, his voice careful. “She’s trying my patience for sure.”

“That’s a Honda CB350.” Alec knew he sounded as nervous as he felt. “One of the bestselling motorcycles worldwide in its time.”

Dylan hiked a brow. “You got the full Wiki on every bike out there?”

Alec enjoyed the teasing a lot more when delivered with a smile. Right now he’d be happy with an easing of the tension around Dylan’s eyes.

“No. Just thought about buying one during my research phase.” Pausing, Alec decided to get down to business. “I spoke with my mother this morning.”

Dylan blinked and then retrieved the wrench, starting in on the tire again.

Alec pushed on, hoping Dylan’s attitude would improve with time. “I told her the truth. About Tyler. About you and me. About everything.”

“That’s great.”

Not quite the reaction Alec had been hoping for. A little more enthusiasm would have been preferable.

Dylan reached for the toolbox lying just to his left, exchanging one wrench for another. “At least you don’t have to keep pretending anymore.”

Alec forced himself to at least
look
relaxed, leaning a hip against the Harley and crossing his arms. “Unfortunately, I have a new problem.”

“Oh?”

Dylan continued to wrestle with the front tire, and his reluctance to meet Alec’s gaze again only made the tension worse. Shit, the man didn’t know how to give an inch. Alec considered walking out. Standing here with his heart pinned to his sleeve approached a form of torture.

But life without Dylan was worse.

“I can’t sleep,” Alec said. “My appetite is nonexistent. And I’m second-guessing every decision I’ve made over the last few weeks.” A bitter scoff escaped. “Actually, I’m second-guessing just about every decision I’ve made since I turned sixteen and came out of the closet.”

Dylan lifted a brow drily. “That’s a hell of a lot of decisions.”

Despite the tension, the corner of Alec’s lip quirked. “Yes, it is.”

“Could take you awhile to work your way through them all.”

“I know, but none of them are as important as the one I already made about you.”

After two heartbeats, Dylan rested his arm on his thigh and met Alec’s gaze as if to say
go on
. And that small movement, the signal that Dylan was willing to listen, encouraged Alec to continue.

For the first time since Dylan had walked out of Alec’s life, he allowed himself to hope.

“I know I’ve been hung up on labels. But, honestly, I don’t care anymore. I just—” Alec shoved his hair back and sucked in a fortifying breath. “I just want to get back to the way things were. We don’t need to call this a relationship. I don’t need you to define yourself as my boyfriend. Or my partner. Or my significant other. Or whatever new term is applied to the role these days. I’m tired of settling, except…”

From his squatting position, Dylan stared up at him. “Except?”

“Except I just want to be with you. So I’ll settle for whatever you’re willing to give.”

Dylan appeared to stop breathing, and Alec could just make out the emotional battle taking place behind the troubled green gaze.

“You—” With a frustrated look, Dylan frowned and returned his focus to the bike, staring at the tire. “You shouldn’t
have
to settle.”

The words sounded like the kiss of death to their relationship.

Oh God. Alec’s heart pumped hard, and he fought to keep his expression under control.

“You kept asking how I felt about Rick,” Dylan said. “And I kept saying I wasn’t in love with him. But since the award ceremony, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” He paused. “And remembering.”

Alec forgot to take a breath in. “Remembering what?”

Dylan frowned again, eyes on the offending bolt.

“Rick and I…Well, it was more than just a simple friendship,” Dylan said. “I never had any brothers, but I’m pretty sure we were more than that too.” He gave a defeated shrug and tossed the wrench back into the box with a metallic
clink
. When he spoke again, his voice came out low. “Fuck, I don’t know.”

Alec waited for him to go on, and Dylan lifted his gaze to Alec.

“But on those nights when I huddled against Rick so we wouldn’t freeze our asses off, the feelings were sometimes all mixed up. I think I might have felt…an urge. You know”
—a sheepish look crossed Dylan’s face, a novel expression for the man—“like a
sexual
urge. But I was never really sure what was a dream and what was real. It was all so confusing.” Dylan sighed and looked away, sounding exhausted. “I’m still kind of confused.”

He wearily wiped a hand down his face, leaving a small streak off grease on his temple. The smear left him looking vulnerable, and Alec’s heart ached.

“But I was terrified of losing Rick as a friend,” Dylan said. When he went on, his tone was bleak. “And I’d been so turned off by my experience with that asshole.”

Alec had never seen him look so defeated and he fought the rising tide of anger, pain, and despair on Dylan’s behalf. Not only had Dylan lost pieces of himself along the way, Alec suspected he’d buried some vital parts as well. Had he repressed his memories of his attraction to Rick? His real feelings for the friend he’d lost?

And,
Christ
, did any of this even matter anymore?

Dylan let out a scoff. “Then again, I was just so goddamned worried about surviving the next day. I could hardly think about anything else. We hadn’t been in the apartment long before Rick met Noah. And I felt—”

Dylan hesitated, his mouth working, his expression focused and intense. He seemed to be struggling to articulate something. Something he didn’t have the words to express. And,
dear God
, watching him wrestle with the process hurt.

Alec stepped closer. “Dylan, you don’t have to do this.”

“It’s okay.” He exhaled and rolled his head, as if to relieve taut muscles. “Shit. Only one way to describe it. There was Rick, and then there was the rest of the world. No one else ever came close.” Dylan finally stood up, looking down at the Honda as he rubbed his finger across a tear in the seat.

His voice rough, Dylan said, “Until you came along.”

Dylan met Alec’s gaze. “Being with you was like being with Rick.” A ghost of a smile came and went from the man’s face. “Only there was great sex too.”

The words expanded in Alec’s chest, the potential killing him.

Dylan blinked. “And I…”

Dying to hear what came next, Alec couldn’t move.

“And I want you back,” Dylan finished.

Relief hit, leaving Alec’s legs clumsy, but he managed to close the gap between them anyway. He moved fast enough that Dylan was still facing the Honda when Alec trapped Dylan’s side against his chest. With a sigh, Alec pressed his forehead to Dylan’s temple. Dylan closed his eyes and fisted his hand in the front of Alec’s shirt.

“Whatever I have to do, man,” Dylan said gruffly. “Whatever it takes.”

With one great cosmic sigh of relief, Alec finally relaxed.

His out-of-control pulse slowed as he inhaled the scent of soap mixed with leather. A minute ticked by as neither moved.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Alec said. “Just don’t walk out on me again.”

In answer, Dylan turned his face and slotted their mouths together, his lower lip settling between Alec’s. The touch was nothing more than a simple press of skin on skin, a shared, damp breath of exhalation.

And exaltation.

But the status didn’t last. Needing more contact, more of
Dylan
, Alec tipped the man’s head, his teeth and lips and tongue leaving a wet path along Dylan’s throat. Dylan arched his neck in encouragement. The stubble was rough, the skin smooth. Alec reached the corner of Dylan’s mouth and nipped—

“Fuck. Alec, wait.”

Dylan turned his body until they were face-to-face and gripped Alec’s hips, walking him backward until his shoulders hit the doorjamb. Dylan threaded his fingers in Alec’s hair, holding his head still as the kiss changed. The intensity brought Alec ridiculously close to the edge.

Dylan pressed in firmly, opening Alec’s mouth wide and then taking his time with each retreat, as though he were starving but didn’t want to consume Alec too quickly. Forceful, yet unhurried. Soon Alec’s jaw ached from the power behind the kisses, but he didn’t mind. Desperate was good. Hungry was excellent.

Enjoying the moment… even better

While Alec struggled to decide between a necessary breath to maintain brain function and continuing to kiss Dylan, Dylan made the decision for him.

Dylan’s mouth landed on the pulse at Alec’s neck, his voice hoarse. “Jesus, I’ve missed you.”

Alec knew what he meant, could hear the truth in his voice. He might not be able to say it yet—in fact, the words might be a long time in coming—but Alec knew Dylan loved him. The idea scared the crap out of the man, but, as far as Alec was concerned, Dylan would just have to learn to adjust. Alec would teach him how.

“So show me,” Alec said.

Dylan stuck his palms in Alec’s back pockets and pulled, their cocks lining up beneath the denim. “Gladly.”

Dylan arched his hips, and Alec moaned, Dylan swallowing the sound with his mouth. The rocking of their hips picked up speed, and what started out as partial hard-ons turned into raging fulls. The friction sent sparks of pleasure up his spine, and the thrusts became more demanding. Desperate, Alec nipped at Dylan’s lower lip again.

Dylan hissed in approval and reached for the front of Alec’s pants.