“Intrigued?” The door opened behind Dylan. Angelo glared at the potential customer, willing them to fuck off already so he could lose himself in a conversation that was making him hot all over. “There ain’t much about me to be intrigued about. Fucking in the club is my jam, and I’m a miserable bastard in reallife.”
“Are you? Or has life kicked you in thenuts?”
Dylan stepped aside without waiting for an answer, and with a cruel twist of fate, the customer behind him had a long list of orders for the estate agent’s office down the road. Filling them took the best part of fifteen minutes, and by the time Angelo was finished, Dylan wasgone.
He trudged home that evening in a warped funk?—torn between the buzz of Dylan’s unexpected visit and the reality that whatever was simmering between them would likely fizzle out once Dylan realised that Angelo was a disaster in just about every way possible. Besides, it wasn’t like he had plans to stick around. Convincing his mother to sell the deli would take time, but as soon as it was done, Angelo was gone. Where to, he had no idea, but Romford was as dead to him as SilvioGiordano.
In the garage, he found a stack of debt collection letters and a bowl of rigatoni ready for him to chuck in the microwave. It was about as close to an apology as his mother ever got, but he couldn’t stomach it. He tossed it in the bin with the letters, bowl and all, and went tobed.
The next morning, Dylan was waiting for him on the street with the morningpapers.
“Wow. Okay. Maybe you are a stalker after all.” Angelo unlocked the deli and waved Dylan inside. “Did you want something? Or are you just checking I haven’t toppedmyself?”
“Why would I think you’d dothat?”
Angelo shrugged and started pulling stools from the tables. “You’ve got that look that social workers give you when your school tells them you’re depressed, and I haven’t exactly shown you my happyside.”
“Do you haveone?”
“I didonce.”
Dylan lifted a stool from the table. “Where did itgo?”
“Dunno. But I do want to know why you’re here.” He gestured at Dylan’s metal tee and jeans combo. “You’re clearly not working, so why are you evenawake?”
“I like earlymornings.”
“Freak.”
“Yup. But you already knewthat.”
It was true, but what little Angelo knew about Dylan had nothing to do with daylight. “Seriously. Why are youhere?”
Dylan took the last stool from the last table. “I don’t know, to be honest. You looked like shityesterday?—?”
“Thanks.”
“?—so I was worried that Saturday wasn’t as good for you as it was for me. And then I realised how fucking self-absorbed that was and figured there might be something actually wrong... you know, somethingreal.”
This rambling version of Dylan was nothing like the poised professional Angelo had met in the debt interview, and he was glad of it. The brief, random moments he’d spent with him outside of the club were like another world, and the bullshit that had brought them together seemed a lifetime away. Angelo smiled and drifted to the kitchen, trusting that Dylan wouldfollow.
He couldn’t describe how he felt when Dylan trailed him and hopped up on the counter, lounging there like he’d done it a thousand times over.Christ, I could fuck him right now.And the sensation briefly won the battle raging in his treacherousbody.
But Dylan’s fast sobering expression ruined it all. “So...,” he pressed. “Are you okay? We’re not supposed to discuss your financial stuff anymore, but I can listen if you want totalk?”
Angelo scowled. Despite Dylan’s assurances that he could get his personal debt wiped, a phone call from the shitty Romford office had fucked it all up, and the looming prospect of bankruptcy was the last thing he wanted to talk about. “I don’t want to talk aboutthat.”
“Okay.”
The defeat in Dylan’s voice did odd things to Angelo’s gut. He paused in the process of retrieving ciabatta loaves from the freezer and went to him, positioning himself between Dylan’s thighs with little conscious thought. “I don’t want to talk about it because I’m not in the headspace right now. Maybe we can anothertime?”
“If you want to. We can pretend it’s not happening if it makes you feel better. I’m not your advisoranymore.”
“And you only were for about five minutes,right?”
“Right.” Dylan licked his lips as Angelo leaned closer. “Now I’m just aplaymate.”
Playmate.In recent years, they’d been the closest relationships Angelo had forged, but something?—everything?—was different about Dylan. The man who’d waited for him in the club wasn’t the same man who gazed at him now, and Angelo had no idea what to do next. His heart screamed at him to kiss Dylan, to wrap his arms around him and chase down the warmth Dylan’s presence had teased him with so far, but then what? Dylan was the sun, but Angelo was deadinside.
