1
DYLAN
Dylan made his way up the subway station stairs toward the sidewalk, following along with the rush-hour crowd, willing the people around him to move faster. When he reached the top, he zipped up his coat to ward off the chilly wind and looked around to orient himself.
He’d taken the subway from campus to save money, figuring it would only take him ten minutes longer than an Uber, but there had been a problem on the tracks and his train had been stuck in a tunnel for close to thirty-five minutes.
It was just his luck.
The university clinic administrator had been crystal clear. If he failed to show up for his doctor’s appointment – part of the university’s arrangement with various private clinics around the city to provide free care to low-income students – then he’d have to pay out of pocket to get a new one.
Dylan could not afford to pay out of pocket.
“One-two-four,” he muttered under his breath, repeating the clinic’s address out loud as he turned right and started jogging down the sidewalk.
He was running against the wind, and his jacket was doing little to protect him from the blistering cold. The weather had been fine that morning – sunny and looking like the temperature would stay in the high fifties – but somewhere around noon the clouds had rolled in and the temperature had dropped to the low forties.
Dylan kept his head tilted toward the right, both so that he could pay attention to the numbered plaques marking each wall, but also so that he wouldn’t get the wind smacking directly into his face.
Checking his watch, Dylan’s anxiety ratcheted up a notch when he saw that he was now officially half an hour late to his appointment. He sped up, cursing the subway and the never-ending delays that plagued it, when all of a sudden he crashed into something that felt like a brick wall.
Dylan bounced back with a windedoomph, disoriented and flailing, and if it hadn’t been for two massive hands grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and holding him steady, he would have fallen on his ass.
“Whoa, what’s the rush?” a pleasantly deep voice asked. It sounded amused. “Are you okay?”
Dylan looked up, only to find himself staring up at the dimpled chin of a demigod.
The man he’d crashed into wasenormous.
Dressed in a leather bomber jacket, tight jeans, and well-worn cowboy boots, the man looked like he’d stepped right out of a GQ magazine. The hunky cowboy issue, to be precise.
“I’m sorry,” Dylan said, the sensation of the man’s hands holding the front of his jacket making his chest feel all fluttery. “I’m late for my doctor’s appointment. I should have looked where I was going.”
The man’s lips curved into a grin, showing off charming dimples and perfect white teeth. Dylan couldn’t get over how tall the man was. He could have passed as a werewolf, he was so big.
“I don’t mind,” the man said. He let go of Dylan’s collar and took a step back, reaching out a gloved hand and brushing a speck of imaginary dust off Dylan’s shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
His hand lingered on Dylan’s upper arm, his thumb brushing back and forth over Dylan’s bicep.
“I am,” Dylan said. He stared up at the man’s dimpled chin, wondering what it would be like to go through life looking that good.
“Maybe-”
“I really should get going,” Dylan blurted out, cutting the man off and twisting away from his hand. “I’m super late.”
Attractive men always flustered him, and this man was the most attractive man he’d ever seen. Dylan knew if he stayed for even one more second he’d make an absolute fool of himself.
The man nodded, and Dylan wondered if he was just imagining it or if his wide shoulders slumped.
“Of course.” He stepped aside, gesturing for Dylan to proceed down the sidewalk. The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”
“Maybe,” Dylan hedged, moving past him in a rush and wondering if the man had been flirting with him.
He couldn’t be. Guys who looked like werewolf movie stars didn’t flirt with skinny nerds like him.
Dylan glanced back, but the man had turned around and was walking down the sidewalk away from him. Dylan shook off his disappointment and kept walking, though he couldn’t resist taking one more look.
The man’s bomber jacket was cinched tight at his waist, showing off a truly glorious bubble butt encased in sinfully tight wrangler jeans.
