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Chapter 22
Dylan was distracting himself from the monotony of laying flooring with another of Felicity’s favorite audiobooks. The cuts and double-checking spacing became monotonous without the smutty fantasy males growling and chuckling darkly in his ear. Unfortunately, this reminded him too much of Derek and the fight.
After leaving Derek’s apartment, Dylan called Cal. He admitted that yes, a couple years ago their two oldest brothers had asked their only gay friend (again, Jake Murphy) to tell them “which gay sex dating site was the most awesome” and then secretly made a profile for Dylan. All three brothers were sick of Dylan “acting like he was married to an old pile of bricks in the middle of nowhere” because, apparently, they “all thought you needed a reminder that refurbished stained glass can’t love you back, Dilly, no matter how hard you rub it.”
He’d hung up on him at that point.
Those dicks. Strangely well-intentioned, but Dylan still wanted to kick Brooks and Anderson in the balls. Maybe starting the barbeque with a well-timed nard-kick would set the right tone for the event.
First thing tomorrow, Dylan would apologize to Derek. He’d been oversensitive. After what happened to Jake, of course Derek put the guy on a pedestal. He and Olive had been friends since they were kids, so he’d probably looked up to Jake.
Tonight, Dylan had been the McDickhead.
Realizing he’d stopped paying attention to his audiobook, he paused to sip his drink and skipped back a chapter. At first, Dylan thought the weird tapping noise meant his earbuds were crapping out. But the knocking was coming from inside his apartment, as in, directly behind him.
He spun around on his kneepads.
Derek stood in the kitchen doorway. Dylan wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Derek looked like absolute shit. His shiny black hair stood up at weird angles, like he had tossed and turned instead of sleeping. The shiner around Derek’s eye had faded to a sickly green and neon yellow, but now both eyes were bloodshot.
“Are you okay?” Dylan clutched his energy drink tighter.
“Those things are bad for you.”
“I’ll add it to the list.”
“What list?”
“The list of reasons why my insides feel so screwed up right now. I think there’s a lot of them.” Dylan set the can down. He started to apologize, but it wasn’t what came out. “I had one single date with Jake, and—look, what happened to him with that accident was awful, and I’m genuinely sorry for it. But did you ever consider that maybe there’s a good reason I’m not telling you what happened? But whatever Jake told you, I didn’t lie to him, and I hate how easy it is for you to assume the worst of me.”
“I know it seems that way. But I don’t think you’re a liar. I think there’s a lot of stuff I never processed, not that that’s an excuse. I’m sorry.”
“My jackass brothers were the ones who made that profile that I guess you saw. I had no idea it existed until tonight.” Dylan’s voice didn’t sound bitter so much as resigned.
Derek sat cross-legged, just across the threshold into the living room. “Can I help with the floor?”
“Would you mind sorting those pieces into the two piles? We ended up with boxes that have a couple different patterns.” Derek shuffled through the pieces of vinyl tile.
They worked in silence for twenty minutes before either spoke again.
“Kissing you wasn’t a mistake, Derek. I was just stressed and scared. I’m sorry for shutting down.”
“You don’t have to be sorry about not being sure. You’ve been under a lot of stress.” Derek’s shoulders slumped. “Is the stuff about that asshole that used you at your old company why it’s been all hot and cold with you?”
“Partly?” Dylan crossed his legs beneath him and took a deep breath. “Truth is… I promised myself a long time ago that I’d stop dating guys who were just looking for no strings. When I date people like that, I always end up feeling like a broken mess. I don’t want to feel like that again. Also I’m living above you, and so…” He frowned. “I’ve seen the kind of guys you… spend time with. I’m not judging. I’m just saying… me and them. There’s a stark contrast.”
“What?”
“Seriously, does Shonda Rhimes run the HR department at your hospital? You expect me to think I can compete with sandy-haired surgical superheroes in skintight scrubs?”
Derek chuckled. “Always at the alliteration.”
Dylan laughed in spite of himself. “Felicity told me I was being stupid.”
“Good for her.”
“She never misses an opportunity.” Dylan twisted his hands together. “So after we kissed, I was annoyed at myself and feeling insecure. We haven’t talked about this yet, but I have pretty debilitating ADHD. Diagnosed recently. Before that I had a bunch of other diagnoses, but none of the treatments worked. It messed with my head and led to some major insecurities… Finally getting on the right meds has helped, but I’m still trying to retrain my brain after years of bad coping mechanisms.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through all that. I don’t know what that must have been like, but I do get the insecurity part.”