8Dylan
Going to a pub quiz on a Sunday was a regular event for some of the Heaven and Hell Club dancers, including Dylan. Hunter had been the one to invite him along when he’d been new at the club. Between that and going to the Vibe on Wednesdays, it meant a core group of them saw each other every day of the week. Hunter had decided they were like an extended second family, but Dylan didn’t like that comparison. His experiences with families had never been good, not that his friends at the club knew that. They thought his childhood had been perfect.
For all that he teased Jag about keeping secrets, he had more than enough of his own. But Jag had open secrets, the kind everyone knew existed but were never given entry to. Dylan’s secrets were hidden behind a webbed veil of lies. He was a man covered in a shiny veneer that hid all the cracks and imperfections of his past and present. No one at the Heaven and Hell Club really knew him. If they did, they’d abandon him like everyone else had. The real Dylan was unlovable. The fake Dylan was at least likeable; most of the time.
As usual, they were playing cards while they waited for everyone to turn up and for the quiz to start. Hunter was shuffling the deck, while Logan got the second round of drinks in. Taylor had won the last hand and hadn’t stopped gloating about it.
Just as Hunter was about to deal out four hands, Jag and Michael arrived. Dylan wasn’t entirely comfortable with their boss coming along each week, but the two men were a couple, so obviously wanted to socialise together. At least Michael didn’t come to the Vibe. Michael seemed like a good guy, but Dylan didn’t want or need an authority figure in his life. Not that he could get away from that type of guy if he wanted to hold down a job.
“Are we planning on winning tonight?” Logan asked as he brought the tray of drinks to the table. He smiled apologetically at Jag and Michael. “You should have arrived a few minutes earlier.”
Michael shrugged. “No worries. I’ll get more drinks in when Kyrone and Jared get here.”
“I think they’re bringing Callum with them,” Jag said, taking a seat opposite Dylan.
They’d snagged the biggest table in the pub, which was just as well considering they were going to end up as a team of nine.
Dylan had raised his eyebrows before he could stop the reaction. He schooled his expression and pretended indifference. The trouble was, hedidstill fancy Callum, even if they had agreed to just be friends. Normally, if a guy wasn’t interested in him, he walked away and that was the end of that, but Callum was different. Dylanwantedto be around him, although he couldn’t explain why.
Jag smiled knowingly, but instead of making a comment, he turned to Hunter. “Deal me in?”
“Are you in, Michael?” Hunter asked.
“No, I’ll watch.”
“You know you’ll lose,” Taylor said.
“Hey, Hunter,” Logan said. “Don’t deal Taylor in this round. The cocky shit needs to take a back seat and let someone else win.”
“Sore loser,” Taylor said in a stage whisper.
“There’s only one thing worse than a sore loser, and that’s a bad winner,” Logan retorted.
“We’ll only have time for one more hand anyway,” Dylan pointed out. “The quiz starts soon.”
Hunter dealt everyone, except Michael, in and they started to play. They never gambled for money, just for the kudos of winning.
They’d almost finished the round before Kyrone showed up, with Callum but without Jared. Jag’s eyebrows pinched together in concern.
“Everything okay?” he asked Kyrone.
“Jared’s got a migraine.”
When Kyrone had first started seeing Jared, Dylan had been horrible about Jared’s migraines, something he still felt guilty about. Not that he’d known about Jared’s accident back then, but that wasn’t an excuse.
“I’ll get drinks,” Michael said, standing.
He took orders and then went to the bar.
Kyrone sat next to Jag, leaving only one spare seat next to Dylan, which Callum took.
“Who’s winning?” Kyrone asked.
“Who do you think?” Dylan asked, using his thumb to motion in Taylor’s direction.
“You’re not invited next week,” Logan declared. “It’s not like you’re any good at the quiz anyway.”
“He’s better than Hunter,” Dylan smirked.
