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“Dylan, I wasn’t saying it in a gotcha way, I was just asking. Not weird. It’s fine.” Normally, Derek might have been tempted to tease him a little, but he was learning Dylan’s cues. Seeing when his discomfort seemed to be motivated by embarrassment—not even embarrassment, something sadder… like shame.
Dylan exhaled. “Okay, cool.”
“Out of curiosity, was this a thing with an ex or something?”
Dylan fiddled with the corner of his napkin, flicking his thumb over it again and again while he spoke. “In the Bay area, a lot of people are big foodies because there are great restaurants and everything. It’s actually how I got into the ‘fish tank’ cooking.” Dylan’s smirk sent a floaty feeling into Derek’s stomach. “This guy just kept harping on it at every business dinner. How my taste is like a kid’s. Guess it made me self-conscious. Still working through a lot of that stuff with my therapist. You know. We all have shit.”
“I know I have shit.” Derek leaned forward.
“I think everyone in the building after you drink too much coffee knows you have shit.”
“So salty today with your new haircut.”
Dylan wrinkled his face. “I’m always salty.” He lowered his hand so that it was palm up in the middle of the table.
“I like it.” Derek’s hand pushed forward, leaving a sliver of space between their fingertips.
“I can tell.” Dylan slid his fingers beneath Derek’s.
Derek traced the lines of Dylan’s palm, enjoying the way the man’s eyes softened behind the thick lenses of his glasses. Every time Derek stopped tracing, Dylan’s hand gave a tiny shake as if to encourage him to keep going. It was like when he was petting Gus, and that thought made Derek grin.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Well then tell me something else.”
Derek squeezed Dylan’s hand in his. “It’s been a really long time since I’ve done this. Really, I’m not sure I’ve ever done this.” He twitched his head indicating the space between them.
“Eat delicious Gaeng Daeng after cutting a hot computer nerd’s hair?”
“Now who’s a cocky asshole?”
“Still you.” Dylan let the longer hair on top fall diagonally across his forehead. “And same. I had a few relationships in college, but it was more experimentation. Figuring things out.”
“And recently?”
“I had one long-term partner in California, but things weren’t great. I still work with his company. Chase—he’s the manager of the main team I still work with a lot. And that’s part of the reason I decided to start my own company. My anxiety and intrusive thoughts were out of control. A psychiatrist started me on some new meds, and Chase, that ex, took my mental health symptoms very personally. And the med side effects were… sometimes hard to manage.”
Maybe Joni really was a witch.
Dylan sipped his water. “That’s why trust is a big deal to me.” His voice was confident and clear, almost rehearsed. As if he had mentally scripted this hypothetical conversation. “I have trouble trusting myself, so it’s really important for me to trust a partner even with the little stuff. I… I need to feel safe. If I don’t feel safe, I end up feeling broken.”
“I get that.”
“What about you?”
“Not a relationship guy before, but now… I don’t know.” Derek was not ashamed to say that he was utilizing all his various physical powers to smolder the shit out of the man in front of him. That unsubtle smolder broke the tension of the moment because Dylan seemed to be suppressing a laugh. “Also, I’m trying not to be a jealous jerk and ask whether this douchebag Chase will be at your meeting.”
“He’ll be there, but trust me, nothing to worry about.” A flush spread over Dylan’s freckled cheeks. “That is why I wanted to mention it before I went, though. Just since there’s some history there you should probably know about it, especially since we still work together… but jealous, huh? Now are you saying…”
“Don’t know exactly what I’m saying.” Feeling more uncertain, not about Dylan, but about himself and what he had to offer someone, Derek stroked the pulse point of Dylan’s wrist to remind himself that the person in front of him was real and things had been so… nice since they stopped hating each other. “Are you good with doing this?” Derek couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.
Was this really a DTR moment? There had always been something about Dylan. His disarming smile. The way they could banter but not feel unbalanced. He made that insecure, dad-less, emo teenager inside Derek feel safe. Just as much as the muscled-up cocky asshole side of himself was safe. It was like both halves of who he was and who he’d been could be real. Dylan was this anxious, overly self-conscious nerd half the time, but then he was also this brilliant and sharp-witted guy who could talk shit and take it too. Derek… liked them both.