As I’m working all of this out in my head, I also realize that while Dylan has denied being with Reid, he’s not denied the possibility of him being with another man.
“Really working something out in there, huh?” Dylan points lamely at my head.
“No, not really. Just feeling like a jerk for making an assumption that’s all.” Dylan looks like he wants me to say more, but I’ve already said too much, made too much of a fool out of myself for one night.
He hears the coolness of my words, can tell there’s a dismissal hidden there and he walks back through the gym and into the locker room.
By the time he comes back out, I’m all ready to lock up and head home. We walk out the door together. I turn left to the small lot where I parked earlier, leaving the larger lot open for the swarm of customers I’d hoped would have shown up today.
Dylan walks the other way, nodding a silent goodbye.
I’m just going to go ahead and blame my stupidity on my exhaustion. Me, of all people, should know better than to assume that someone’s gay, to call them out on it without knowing for sure.
That’s something that has nearly gotten me into trouble on more than a few occasions.
Trying to erase those memories from my already-screwed-up-beyond-belief head, I start my car and pull to the front of the gym. Dylan’s still there, leaning up against the wall of windows in the front.
I pull up to the curb and push the button to lower the passenger’s side window. Wrongful assumptions aside, I can’t let him sit here by himself. Sure, he’s a grown man, but he’s hurt. “Can I give you a lift?”
Dylan picks his head up from his phone, looking tired and beat up. “Nah, it’s okay. I’m sure I’ll get a cab company soon enough.”
I should pull away. I should let him figure it out on his own. I don’t owe him anything, and he sure as hell doesn’t owe me anything, but I feel obligated somehow.
Or maybe it’s that I feel like I need to know more about him.
“Come on. Don’t be ridiculous. Let me give you a lift. It’s the least I can do for assuming you were gay.”
Dylan combs his good hand through his hair before bending down and scooping up his bag. I hit the button to unlock his door and feel marginally better that he’ll at least let me do this for him.
He gets in the car and, with his arm still in the sling, gawkily pulls the seatbelt across his lap. When he’s situated and facing forward, he kicks his gym bag with his feet, making room for his long legs. As I shift the car into drive and pull away from the curb, Dylan keeps his eyes focused on the road ahead of us.
Without even looking over at me, he says, “Who said your assumption was wrong?”
Shifting in my seat, I look at the gorgeous man sitting next to me. But rather than garnering any reaction out of Conner, my words almost have a non-effect on him. He simply keeps his eyes on the road. His hands, however, are in a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. “I−well, I just−it’s…” he stutters as he attempts to recover.
“Are you?” I’m not sure what’s come over me. My attraction to him? Gay or straight, the man is gorgeous.
“Now, who’s assuming things?” He lifts an eyebrow.
“Not assuming, just curious.” Though, if I’m being honest, there’s no way he’s not at least a little into me. It’s in his voice, vibrating in the space between us. It’s in his eyes, staring straight through me.
“Yeah, I am,” he answers with no shame or desire to hide anything in his words.
Nodding, I turn back to face the road, letting the last five minutes replay in my head, looking for anything that will help me figure out what the hell just happened.
“Where are we going?” Conner’s voice cuts through the end of a song.
It takes me a few seconds to realize he’s asking for directions. I start to give him directions to my apartment when I remember that my car is still at work. Reid really screwed me over good, but I think he knew exactly what he was doing. The jerk.
“I need to pick up my car, actually.” Listing off a few more directions, we head toward the office. When a sharp turn launches me against the door, my arm burns in pain.
A car whizzes past us, tires screeching, and horns honking. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. That car came out of nowhere.” Conner apologizes as my arm throbs painfully.
“Maybe you driving home isn’t such a good idea,” he suggests as we pull into the lot where my cars is sitting all by itself.
“No, I’ll be fine,” I add as I rub my arm. “Your driving is no safer.” I dismiss his concerns even though they mirror some of my own. It’s doubtful I’ll be able to turn the car at all with my right arm completely immobilized.
With the strap of my gym bag looped through my good arm, I reach over to open the door. Conner’s hand on my shoulder stops me dead in my tracks. “Don’t be an ass. You can barely open the door. Let me drive you home. I’d feel like a jerk if something happened to you.”
