“We did a few seminars there for work. After our contract was up, the boys didn’t want our time to end and neither did I. I had really grown to like them, so when they told me about wanting to join the local little league, I knew I had to help them. I pulled a few strings with the league and covered in costs what the home couldn’t. When they asked me to be their coach, there was no way I could say no.”
“That’s really amazing of you, Dylan.”
I roll one shoulder, deflecting his compliment. “So,” I venture nervously, “was that what you had in mind?”
“Nope.” Curtly, he dismisses me. He laughs before adding, “It was way more than I expected.”
I reach across the small fifties-inspired laminate tabletop, and lightly graze my fingers over the back of his hand. “I’m full of surprises; I promise.” His eyes widen at my suggestive comment and I see his throat work as he swallows; his Adam’s apple bobbing is sexy-as-fuck.
The waitress returns with our meals, not affording him anytime for a lusty comeback. Over a few plates of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon, we learn about each other’s favorite movies, books, hobbies, and interests.
“Wait a minute, how have you never seenField of Dreams?” Incredulity flows out of my mouth at Conner’s admission. “Every American boy has seen that movie,” I mumble around a mouth full of toast.
“Wasn’t much into baseball growing up, sorry.” His tongue licks along the seam of his lips, catching a drop of coffee before it drips to his chin. “I started wrestling in middle school, and didn’t stop until I had to.”
“Baseball was in my blood.”
“Was?” His confusion is clear. “Don’t you mean is? I saw you out there today.”
Thoughts of Shane haunt my vision. The more time I spend with Conner, the more I realize I’ll end up telling him about Shane, and how his death still affects me, but now is not the time. Deflecting for now, I avoid answering his question and pose one of my own. “What did you want to be as a kid, like when you grew up?”
A loud, full-bellied laugh bursts out of my mouth when he responds, “Superman.”
“Really?” I spit out through my laughter.
“Yes, really.” He crosses his arms in front of him, pushing his cleared plate to the side. “I always wanted to be the strongest, fastest, most unbeatable man out there. Worked my ass off to get there, too.” A sad tone begins to filter through his words. “I was so close, so fucking close and it was all taken from me.” Though he tries to keep it at bay, his anger hovers at the surface.
Channeling my inner Dr. Baker, I ask, “What do you want to be now?”
Anger recedes and is replaced by a flash of light-hearted goodness. “Now? Now, I just want to be happy.” The sudden seriousness of the conversation would have normally turned me off, made me bite my tongue, but not now. So when Conner asks, “What about you?” I grin back at him, more than ready to answer.
“Happy, too.”
“Maybe we can help each other out then.” His face brightens, as does mine, I’m sure.
We exchange a hopeful look across the table as the waitress approaches with our check. He argues about paying, again, but since this is my date, I insist and he defers.
The minutes of our time together tick away as my car approaches his apartment building. I walk him to the door, half-hoping he’ll invite me in, but when he stops in the foyer, turning on his heel, I know extending our time together isn’t his intention.
He eyes the stairs. “Look, I’d invite you up, but Rachel had a late night last night. She gets these really bad migraines.”
A bubble of disbelief flies out of my mouth. “You don’t need to make excuses.” Raking a hand through my hair calms some of the nerves I’m feeling. Angling my head back toward the door, I explain, “It’s okay. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Dylan,” he calls me back, “I’m not lying.” He walks over, stopping only inches away from me, the heat of his body filling the limited space between us. A work-roughened hand goes to my neck. A calloused thumb traces the neckline of my t-shirt. Conner’s scent – woodsy and fresh from our time outside – curls around me, melting me almost instantly.
His eyes probe mine, begging me to believe him. And I do. My mouth just doesn’t want to work to say that I do. “There’s nothing I’d rather do than spend the rest of my day with you, but I need to check on Rachel.” A warm breath bathes over my cheek before he presses his lips there. “What are you doing tomorrow night?” he asks before moving his lips to the corner of mine.
Words are impossible. My mouth is focusing on one task right now, and it’s not speaking. I shake my head, silently saying “nothing” and he moves to the other side of my mouth, pressing his lips to the opposite corner. “Good, then,” he smiles smugly. “I’ll be in touch.”
Not so patiently, I wait for him to attack my lips, to plunge his tongue into my mouth, to pull my body into his. But he doesn’t. The absence of his warmth is noticeable as he takes a step back. Holding up two fingers, he chuckles, “That was only two.” He wiggles them back and forth, mocking my crazed lust and me.
A deep huff of frustration flies from my un-kissed lips as I scrub a hand over my face. “Oh, it’s on,” I joke. “You’re so gonna get it now.”
He pulls a face at me, one that is at least partially filled with the same desire I know is in mine. “I hope so.”
Making sure to keep my voice low, I greet Rachel with my standard, “Morning, sunshine” as she stumbles out of her bedroom. The curtains are all drawn, keeping out as much of the light as possible. “Medicine help any?”
She holds up two fingers, meaningno. “Wow, must have been a bad one if you don’t even want to talk.” One finger flies up, indicating an adamantyes. Lamely, we worked out this nearly uncrackable code for when her headaches are really bad. “Coffee?” One finger.
