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After the dog walker picked up Gus, the mess in Dylan’s brain made it impossible to tackle the mess in the apartment. After feeding Gus his dinner, Dylan gave up and hopped in the shower. Why was it sometimes so easy to remember all the things that he needed to do while he was in the shower? He needed to wash out the glasses and mugs so that Derek would stop the passive-aggressive tidying. Dylan’s mother always did the passive-aggressive tidying thing, and it drove him bananas. Dylan could get everything done if he managed to focus. He needed to run out for laundry detergent that didn’t smell awful.
Not in a million years.
He wished he could stay in the hot shower for a million years so he wouldn’t have to face Derek and pretend he hadn’t found out Dr. Abercrombie & Fitch had discussed inviting Dylan down to join in whatever those two got up to and Derek had rejected the suggestion like it had been ridiculous.
A million years.
Dylan pressed a palm against the tile. He’d already decided that things with Derek were a no-go, so why did it sting? The rejection should have been no surprise. Because of the way Uncle Sean’s kitchen window pointed, Dylan had a front-row seat to the type of men Derek had over. He and Felicity had even made something of a game about inventing backstories for the men emerging from the garden apartment door when they hung out there. Unsurprisingly, none of the well-muscled men looked like Dylan. Seriously, what in the Grey’s Anatomy hot-people bullshit was going on at Derek’s hospital?
He forced himself to give his body a final rinse and shook out his hair in an attempt to slough off that instinctive feeling of worthlessness. Awkward social interactions created small fractures in his mental armor. Every crack allowed old insecurities to slide right back into his brain.
Shit, his fingers had crinkled into raisin flesh.
He needed to get out. Dishes. Cleaning. Laundry. He said he’d take out the recycling too. Ugh. Dylan nearly slipped on the tile because he wasn’t paying attention and knocked Derek’s towel to the floor. He’d come back and grab it when he started laundry. He could put Derek’s other things in too. He’d probably get to it before Derek got back from whatever he was doing…
With all the muscles between those two, they were probably into some kind of weird gay tantric-Sting-level shit. This wasn’t an outcome he’d considered when he helped get Derek’s bed set up in the living room.
Dylan shuddered and eased the bathroom door open enough to be sure he was still alone in the apartment. No sounds except for Gus’s snoring. Dylan’s ears strained, but he 100 percent wasn’t trying to hear if there was noise coming from the apartment beneath him. He absolutely wasn’t.
The mirror had completely un-fogged, which meant he’d been standing half-naked longer than intended. After a frown at his reflection, he slipped on his smudged glasses.
Olive was right about your eyes.
What the hell had that meant?
Muffled vibrating came from the couch cushions. His phone must have fallen out of his pocket. The text wall from Chase used more than the typical amount of profanity and exclamation points. Grumbling, Dylan adjusted the towel he was wearing and grabbed his laptop.
Chapter 13
DYLAN
Gus is whining. The dog walker took him out like usual and then I fed him, but he’s still restless.
DEREK
Put on a movie for him.
DYLAN
You dog likes movies?
DEREK
Gus is a connoisseur of many forms of media. I brought one of his favorites up. Probably still in your uncle’s DVD player.
Derek put the manila appliance information folder on the counter and grabbed the Kodak-yellow photo envelope sitting there. This must have been one of the last rounds of film he ever developed. As soon as he saw the photo on top, he froze.
Oh. These photos…
How far had his mom been digging in the boxes? He smiled at the photo on top—Olive and Derek flanking a barely teenaged Michelle in front of gilded stage doors at a New York City theater. He’d forgotten his camera that weekend. They had bought a cheap disposable on the way to the city. Michelle wore a heavily sequined costume and cradled roses. That elite intensive was supposed to be a first step toward an impressive career. God, he missed those intense, confident grins Michelle had worn so often before her injury.
For the next month they broke out that camera during big moments. Apprehension knit in his gut as he flipped through photos shifting from cheesy NYC tourist shots to a townhome in Baltimore.
Derek fell in love with Jake when Derek was a skinny, pimply teenager, but he hadn’t seen Jake for years while Jake went to grad school in Massachusetts or when Jake was working that first job. He was always traveling then. Jake only came back to the town house for short stretches. Derek suspected he’d gotten it so Olive wouldn’t have to worry about rent while racking up nursing school student loans. He had told her he needed someone to keep an eye on it while he traveled. What a load of bullshit. He was always doing things like that for her.
Olive had a group of friends over that night. Derek saw Jake across the room, looking just as tall and devastatingly hot as he had when Derek had been a closeted, pining teenager. But when their eyes met, Jake threw Derek an unfamiliar and irresistibly charming smile. That wasn’t the smile he’d ever used on the scrawny sixteen-year-old kid he taught to drive. But after a moment, Jake’s expression lit with a sudden spark of almost-shocked recognition.
He downed half of whatever was in his tumbler glass. “Well, it’s Derek Chang. As I live and breathe.”