“What are you talking about?” Dylan wondered, sensing Penny beside him watching them as if she were at a tennis match.
“I don’t wanna pry, but you’ve been utterly silent today.”
“I’m just feeling a little weird. I think I’m coming down with something.”
“Stay away, then.” Penny crossed both index fingers in front of her. “I can’t get sick now.”
Dylan rolled his eyes, chuckling. “It’s probably just fatigue from not having rested properly inmonths.”
Outside of his normal day job, he also tattooed at a friend’s parlor on the weekends. Despite being good extra money, the endless hours there were grueling.
“If you don’t wanna tell us, it’s okay, but don’t lie.” Cora offered him a knowing look.
“Seriously, nothing happened.”
“Did you have a fight with your girlfriend?” she asked.
“What girlfriend?”
“The chick from the language app.”
“Who?”
“The one who wasteaching you French. I hear people get pretty flirty on there, even if that’s not the purpose of the app…” A cheeky smile spread across Cora’s face.
“Wait, weren’t you dating someone from the gym?” Penny said, blinking several times in confusion. “I’m lost.”
“I’m not dating anyone. I just have friends I hook up with sometimes.”
“You, my secretive and mysterious friend, are a man-whore.” Cora laughed, covering her mouth with her palm. She wasn’t the type to curse a lot.
“That I am.” Dylan smirked and shrugged in agreement.
“Okay, here you go. Three lattes, one with sugar.” The barista slid their coffees across the counter, interrupting the conversation.
“Thanks,” Penny told her while they paid. “Have a good day.”
Penny and Cora engrossed themselves in conversation while they snaked through the tables, looking for a spot to sit. Dylan sighed, hating how busy this place was. And that it was Monday. He hated Mondays. Especially this one because the turmoil spiraling in his head didn’t seem to find an end.
Jared could have said no or pushed him away. But he hadn’t. In fact, he’d coaxed Dylan for more, as if having their tongues tangled while they dry-humped wasn’t enough. His hands were greedy and his hips eager to fuck and be fucked. Dylan hadpictured both scenarios several times since that night—they always ended up covered in cum.
Jared was young, way younger than any of his previous conquests, yet his powerful energy had made Dylan forget the age difference that separated them for a sweet, sinful moment.
Twelve.
Twelve. It echoed.
Being friends was not an issue, but thinking about all the things he’d do to him if given the chance felt so damn wrong. So why, then, did it feel so good when they’d touched?
His rib cage shrank.
Dylan was a mess.
It was so bad that he was feeling like letting it all out for the first time in years. But he had no one to talk about it with. Most of his female friends weren’t only friends, so he didn’t share this type of stuff with them. And his male colleagues rarely ever got sentimental, unless it was a real life or death situation.
“Dylan.”
“Hm?” he mindlessly asked as he sipped from his coffee.
