Page 20 of Fall for Him

Derek mumbled something, and Olive mumbled something back. After one more short hug, he ruffled her bun. She kissed him once on the cheek and left. When Derek turned back to the room, his eyes were glassy.

Dylan snapped his head back down to focus on Gus. Dylan never wanted to be the type of person who had so much internalized toxic masculinity he felt weird around another dude crying, but yeah, this was awkward.

Mostly because he was still supposed to hate this guy. This guy who just spent twenty minutes saying goodbye to his best friend in this tragic, tender way and eating her mushrooms, and all of it made Dylan want to tuck the man into bed, brew him chamomile tea, and put on that strange dance movie he had three copies of.

This was probably worse than thinking about him in bed for other reasons.

Well, not worse.

Certainly different.

The fact remained that Derek had always been an asshole to him even before he crashed through his ceiling. He’d yelled at him for taking too long at the shared mailbox. He’d lost his shit once when Dylan was doing the initial work on Uncle Sean’s apartment, and he was “making a racket” at nine A.M. How was Dylan supposed to know he worked nights sometimes and had been trying to sleep?

And then there was what happened during that unexpected downpour back in May.

Dylan had been working on Uncle Sean’s bedroom for hours, so he’d had his earbuds in, the addictive audiobook making the time fall away as he finished the last sections of drywall repair. He’d only noticed the pounding from the front door because it vibrated the entire apartment.

Derek stood there.

Soaking wet. Looking like he’s just gotten back from a run.

As that memory replayed in his mind, Dylan recalled how much he hated Derek’s thin workout tank and mesh shorts that left little to the imagination. He’d hated that model-perfect, smug face that had several inches of height on Dylan.

Unfortunately, Dylan’s own face had always been an open book. Derek hadn’t missed any of Dylan’s “hatred.”

Could anyone blame a guy for looking?

Probably not, but the worst part was that during those delusional ten seconds of silence, Dylan had wondered (read: lost his mind) whether Derek could be coming up to ask him out or maybe even for other stuff… Yeah, it must have been Dylan’s baseline sex starvation sending his thoughts straight to that bottle in his bedside drawer which lately had been only for personal use.

Derek had leaned suggestively on Dylan’s door, letting water sluice down his corded biceps and forearms and smiled.

Derek’s smile showed Derek knew exactly what Dylan had been thinking—just like he knew last night too—and he made Dylan feel even smaller.

That smile scoffed as if to say “Dream on, loser” very loudly.

“Gallagher, did you know your Jeep’s sunroof’s open, and it’s raining on your laptop?” Derek had pointed to the parking lot. “A friend of mine noticed as he left earlier. Just texted me about it.”

Obviously, Dylan didn’t know. He was so annoyed at himself and how he had been caught gawking that he couldn’t stop himself from muttering “A friend. Suuuure. Riiiight,” under his breath.

“Yeah. Friend.” Derek scowled.

Maybe it was because Dylan was frustrated (in every sense) and exhausted or maybe it was because Dylan’s years-long relationship with Chase had also turned out to be exactly this kind of “friendship,” and Dylan had just gotten the wrong idea somehow, but Dylan stared back at Derek and shrugged.

“You of all people have something to say about my behavior in my relationships?”

Huh?

While Dylan was in one of the longest sexual dry spells of his life, was this jerk seriously implying that Dylan never could have success in this area? Who just says something like that to a complete stranger?

Hiding actual hurt and trying to parse the full meaning of the insult, Dylan glared. “What? Me of all people because I’m nothing like the bonanza of blond, brainless, beefy, boring…”

Derek cocked an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Just waiting to see how long you can continue the insult alliteration.” Derek’s tone was infuriatingly unfazed.

“What the hell did I ever do to you? Just say ‘Hey, Dylan, your sunroof’s open’ like a non-complete asshole would.”

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