Jag half shook his head as though doing a double take.
“Is something wrong?” Kyrone asked.
Jag smiled thinly. “No. I used to know someone by that name, but I haven’t seen him in years. Hearing the name reminded me of him, that’s all.” His expression became distant.
“Good memory or bad memory?” Dylan asked. When he received a cagey glare from Jag, he held his hands up defensively. “Hey, I’m only asking. You’re so tight-lipped about your past I think this is literally the first thing you’ve let slip about it.”
“Lay off it,” Kyrone said.
Dylan dropped his hands and shrugged. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”
Jag sighed. “The guy I knew was a really good friend in school.” His stare dropped to the floor, and his shoulders slumped. “But we lost touch.”
“It sounds like you regret that,” Kyrone said softly. “But you know, it’s never too late to look someone up. I bet your friend has a Facebook profile. Get on there and find him.”
“No. I’m happy letting my past stay in the past.” Jag let out a soft sigh. “Even Jared.”
Kyrone narrowed his eyes a fraction. “Was he a boyfriend?”
“Sort of, but it was a long time ago, and like I said, we lost touch.” He smiled, but it looked forced, and then turned away from them, grabbing the pot of silver body paint and sponge.
Kyrone watched the younger man for a moment. Clearly, there was more to the story than his friend admitted, but that was Jag through and through. For all that he was friendly and cheerful, he let very little personal information about himself slip unless it was about hiscurrentlife at Heaven and Hell, with Michael. Kyrone knew nothing about Jag’s past at all other than the fact that he didn’t like to talk about it and often got a haunted look in his eyes whenever anyone asked. Whatever had happened to him to make him that way, it must have been bad. It definitely hadn’t been okay for Dylan to call him out on his secretive behaviour.
“Will you come on Sunday?” he asked Jag. “To the pub quiz? I’d like to show my man off toallmy friends.”
Jag paused, his hand holding the sponge against his collarbone. He looked at Kyrone via the mirror. “Maybe.”
“Bring Michael,” Kyrone suggested.
“The more, the merrier,” Dylan agreed.
“I’ll talk to Michael,” Jag said, although there wasn’t much conviction in his voice.
“Great,” Kyrone said, trying to ignore the obvious brush-off.
“Did you manage to get a quick fuck in before coming here?” Dylan asked him.
Chuckling, Kyrone shook his head. “He’s got a migraine. I left him tucked up in bed.”
“A migraine?” Dylan rolled his eyes. “That sounds like an excuse. Are you sure he’s not getting bored of you?”
“Quite sure,” Kyrone said in a tetchy tone.
“You two have been fucking for what? Three weeks?” Dylan asked. “Seems like a bit of an imposition to get you to take care of him while he’s ‘sick’.” He made air quotes with his fingers.
“You realise you can be a total jerk at times, right?” Kyrone asked. “He didn’t ask. I insisted.” He shook his head in annoyance. He’d always known Dylan was both fickle and shallow, but his words had really wound him up.
“Things are getting serious?” Jag asked. He was starting to cover his face up with the body paint.
“About as serious as any three-week-old relationship can be,” Kyrone replied with a shrug. “I like him. He likes me.”
“And the sex is good?” Dylan asked.
“Yes, the sex is great. But that’s not all we do.”
“Uh-huh. That’s all I’d be doing with a guy after three weeks… going at it like rabbits.” Dylan sighed dramatically. “I miss having a man. Do you fancy sharing yours? He is such a pretty twink.”
“No,” Kyrone growled. “And you’re going to make me change my mind about bringing him on Sunday.”
