We walk to the back room and I want to ask him if he’s okay that Reid just left him here when he’s obviously hurt, but I know that would be overstepping my bounds. Considering that I don’t even know him, yeah, asking him about the ins and outs of his relationship would definitely be weird.
I stay focused on the task at hand, customer service. And in this case, there’s the added bonus of not being sued. Even though I know Dylan signed all the releases and consent forms, and even though my insurance covers minor injuries, I still worry about losing everything over someone getting hurt.
“Hey, Eddie.” I step into the training room where some loud rock music is playing as Eddie, the in-house trainer, is setting up his equipment. He turns down the music, and puts away the last of the medical tape he’s in the middle of unpacking.
When Eddie sees Dylan holding his arm, obviously in pain, he helps us over to an exam bench. “What happened?” he asks as Dylan hops up on the table, trying desperately not to wince with the movement.
Dylan pulls the ice pack off his shoulder. “It’s an old baseball injury. Must have overdone it with the weights. I think it should be fine if I just rest and ice it.” Eddie pokes and prods at Dylan’s arm while Dylan sits there with his jaw clenched as he tries to stifle the pain.
Eddie asks him to move it this way and that way. He’s able to comply with most of the requests, but I can see the stiffness of his movements, the need for some kind of relief. “I think you’ll be okay. You seem to have good mobility, but if you’ve aggravated an old injury, I really think you ought to go see your doctor tomorrow and make sure that you don’t need any kind of physical therapy.” Dylan nods as Eddie finishes up the rest of his instructions on how to take care of it for the night.
Eddie rifles through a drawer to the side of the exam table. “Where the hell…” his words trail off as he tosses around a few items in there. “Ah, here it is.” Eddie pulls out, opens a sling, and helps Dylan slide his arm into it. “This should help keep some of the strain off it. Try to keep it on through the night. You might have to sleep sitting up a little.”
Dylan inches his way forward on the bench before sliding down. I notice his shorts slide up a little, exposing his upper thigh – his firm and nicely muscled upper thigh.
He has a partner.
He has a kid.
You’re an asshole.
I shake away my own foolish thoughts as Dylan and Eddie finish up.
By the time we get back out onto the main floor, Carla’s class is wrapping up and the space is pretty much empty. Dylan glances up at the clock and curses. “Shit.”
“Everything okay?”
He shakes his head, hiding a small laugh. “Reid drove me here. My car’s at the office.”
“Oh.” I mentally flip through the options here. Should I offer to call him a cab? Somehow, volunteering to drive him home seems wrong.
Awkwardly reaching across his body with his left arm, he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. After a few swipes and taps on the screen, he starts talking to who I’m assuming is Reid. I turn my attention back to the front desk and the end-of-the-night procedures that are awaiting my attention.
Through my yawn, I hear bits of their conversation, not that I’m trying to listen in or anything like that.
“Really…you’re shitting me…you suck, asshole…” I can’t help but laugh at the parts I’m hearing and I can only imagine what’s being said on the other end of the line.
When the conversation stops, I look up from what I’m doing to see Dylan tapping on his phone some more. He looks like he’s looking something up, not dialing another number.
“What’s wrong? Boyfriend leave you high and dry?” I joke.
Dylan lifts his eyes from his phone, tilting his head to the side as he shoots me an odd look. “Boyfriend?” he asks, skeptically.
“Yeah,” I tap a stack of papers on the desk before dropping them into a manila folder. “Reid’s your boyfriend, right? Partner. Husband. I mean whatever you guys call it.” The stupefied look on his face intensifies, as he continues to stare at me like I’ve just sprouted horns or something.
Dylan walks over to the desk, placing his phone down on the counter. “Let me get this straight. You think Reid and I are,” he pauses before saying, “together.” The last word comes out like a question, a ridiculous question accompanied by an amused chuckle.
“Uh, yeah.” I answer, dumbly, not really sure how I could possibly be wrong. “Aren’t you?”
He shakes his head as a crooked smile dances across his face. It’s a daring smile, one that extends a challenge, while concealing a deep dark secret at the same time. “No, we are most definitely not together. He’s married, but not to me. To his wife.”
I’m sure the look on my face says what my mouth is incapable of uttering. When I finally regain some ability to speak, all I can spit out is, “The kid?”
Dylan leans against the counter, resting his good elbow on the black granite top. “That was Braden.” A proud look takes up residence on Dylan’s face. “Reid’s son and my nephew.”
It all makes sense. The closeness and the playful ribbing I saw going on between the two of them. While I’m laughing at myself for misreading the situation, I notice one major omission on Dylan’s part.
Assuming Dylan is with Reid means that I’ve also presumed he’s gay. I won’t lie; there is something about him that calls to me on a basic level, something that maybe I initially misread as a need to hook up, but maybe it’s something more.
