I was indignant when he was initially telling me about this. It sounded to me like they were trying to force him to sell the business he’d built and loved. In the end, they allowed him to keep it. Dylan promised that when I retired, we’d return, and he’d want his business back.
It’s not something we’ve talked about, but I’m looking forward to it. Maybe I’ll build a rink and train locals to play hockey. Kala is a bit far away to become a part of the league, but I’m sure I can think of something.
For now, we’re here. Together. Happy.
Dylan’s phone dings, and he looks down. A smile spreads across his face, and he turns the screen to me. It’s a picture of Tomy next to a dartboard with the ref’s picture on it and covered in darts.
Perhaps the most interesting thing to happen is that Dylan and Tomy have become besties. Even more interestingly, Dylan is training Tomy in photography, and he enjoys using me as a subject. Was it awkward when Dylan had the idea that Tomy should take photos of us fucking? Stylistic photos, of course. Tasteful. Artful?
Yes, it was fucking weird. And yet, I forgot he was there within minutes.
Even weirder is that Dylan likes to use our photos as art around the house. Which means we’ve had to learn not to miss any of them when people come over. That leads to some colorful interactions.
“See? Even Tomy knows the ref is stupid,” Dylan says.
“Tomy didn’t watch the game. That particular ref wasn’t on tonight.”
“How do you know that?”
“The number on his arm is twenty-eight.” Dylan looks at his phone. “Twenty-eight wasn’t here tonight.”
He begins tapping away on his phone, and the only noise in the car is the road and the sounds of him texting.
“Tomy says they all look alike in stripes,” Dylan announces.
I snort.
“He’s coming over tomorrow. He’ll prove his point.”
Tomy’s moved to Detroit recently so he can be close to his new bestie. Dylan is still trying to set him up, though he says he’s at a disadvantage now since he doesn’t know everyone locally, but he has his eye on a man down the road.
A straight man, mind you. Dylan’s convinced that he’s not straight; he’s just been indoctrinated into believing that’s the only option.
I don’t get involved. Tomy is totally crushing on this man, so he goes back and forth on whether he’s humoring Dylan or trying to convince Dylan to let it go.
Dylan is in my arms as soon as we’re out of the car, and I cover his mouth with mine. “Say goodnight to Tomy,” I instruct.
“Aw, baby. You know you’re my entire world, right? Tomy is just a little star that I love to dress up.”
I laugh. He’s more than that. I think Tomy is the friend Dylan has always wanted. He’s pretty opposite of Dylan, which makes them a perfect pair in friendship.
“I love you,” I tell him, loving the way his breath catches every single time I tell him. “So, so much.”
Dylan sighs and rests his forehead against mine. “I think we need to thank Tomy more.”
“Tomy, Tomy, Tomy,” I tease.
He grins. “If he hadn’t booked that photoshoot, we’d never have met,” Dylan says. “I can’t imagine a life without you.”
I hug him a little tighter. Deciding to leave my bag in the car for the night, I head for the door. I don’t want to let him go, even for a second, so I’m not going to.
“You’re right. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to go,” I admit.
“Do you think if you’d not gone, we’d have still met?”
“I ran into you at the sports shop that same afternoon,” I remind him.
He gives me a demure expression that has me laughing. “I saw you walk in and followed. And before you bring up the boattour, I illegally looked you up in the scheduling system to see where you were going to be.”
