“Your dad was a Torchwood fan?”
Callum wrinkled his nose. “Nah. He watched Doctor Who but hated Torchwood.”
“Why?” Dylan had never watched either.
“There were openly gay characters in Torchwood.” Callum dipped his chin. “Like I said, my family are homophobic.” His lips twitched into a smile. “I’m really glad yours aren’t.”
Dylan forced himself to smile. “Yeah, they’re great.” The lie felt jarring, even though he was used to painting a picture of a perfect family. For some reason, lying to Callum felt wrong and left a bad taste in his mouth.
“How did you get into dancing?” Callum asked in an obvious change of subject.
“Pole dancing, or dancing in general?”
“Yes.”
Dylan grinned at Callum’s response. “Dancing in night clubs, mostly. I realised I had a decent sense of rhythm and I danced well enough to attract guys. When I saw the advert for dancers at the Heaven and Hell Club, I decided I might as well monetise something I enjoyed doing. If you’ve got it, flaunt it.”
“You learned pole dancing in night clubs?”
Dylan laughed. “No. I sweet talked my way into a job. Hunter and Jag were the ones who taught me how to pole dance.”
Callum glanced at the door to the pub, as though expecting both men to walk back in and take some credit.
“Now I’m one of the best dancers in the club.”
Callum raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
“Hell yeah. You’ve seen us all dance, who do you think’s the best?”
Callum’s cheeks went red. “Uh…I don’t know. I haven’t paid that much attention.” He tripped over his words, looking everywhere but at Dylan.
Dylan swore in his head. What a way to fuck up a perfectly good conversation. “You really don’t dance?” he asked, trying to get things back on track and firmly into the friend zone. “At all?”
Callum shook his head.
“Not even in nightclubs?”
“No. I mean, I’ve tried, but I’ve got zero sense of rhythm and I think my dancing skills were a turnofffor women, rather than a turnon.”
“Wow, you must be really bad.”
“Trust me, I am.”
Dylan pursed his lips. “You can show me at the Vibe on Wednesday.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I do. No one can be so bad they can’t sway to the music in a night club.”
“I am.” Callum finished the last dregs of his beer. “Do you want another drink?”
“Yes, but I’ll get them.”
“You got coffee on Friday.”
“And you bought me two cocktails on Wednesday.”
Callum held up his hands. “Okay.”
