“No, I wasn’t hungry.” Dylan leaned down, reaching for his backpack and pulling it into his lap. He opened it up and pulled out a piece of black spandex. “I did steal one of your workout shirts, though. Or Ryker’s, I’m not sure. I needed something to tie around my waist to hide the fact that you ripped a huge hole in my favorite jeans.” He glared at August, as if he’d just remembered what he’d done. “You owe me for that, by the way.”
“I’ll take you shopping,” August promised. He wasn’t sorry in the least for ripping Dylan’s jeans, and even less so if it meant he got to have an input on Dylan’s wardrobe.
He would look amazing in butt-hugging chinos, or maybe even a pair of leather pants.
“You don’t have to do that. I already ordered a replacement pair online.”
August frowned, his plan foiled. Then he brightened, remembering that he didn’t need an excuse to take Dylan shopping and spoil him rotten. He could just do it.
“All right, I’ll pay you back when we get home.” August lifted his hand off Dylan’s thigh and ruffled his hair. “But I’m still taking you shopping. I want to dress you up for our next date.”
He slid his hand down to Dylan’s neck, squeezing suggestively and making Dylan duck his head and blush beet red.
“Can you call Ryker, see when he’s coming home?” August asked, deciding to have mercy on Dylan and lifting his hand. They were almost at the boy’s apartment, anyway. “Tell him we’re on our way home.”
Dylan nodded, grabbing his phone from his backpack and making the call. Ryker picked up on the second ring, and August listened quietly as his two mates talked.
Ryker was still at work, but once he heard that Dylan was on his way to the apartment, he promised to wrap things up and head home.
August parked his car on the curb outside of Dylan’s apartment.
“I’ll be right back,” Dylan said, unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching for the door.
“I’ll come with you.” August turned off the engine and shot Dylan a grin. “I can help you pack.”
Dylan rolled his eyes, but he didn’t protest when August exited the car with him and fell into step next to him as he made his way up the steps to the front door.
“I’m not officially moving in with you guys before you meet my parents,” Dylan said, opening the door to the depressingly dingy corridor on the second floor where his tiny studio was located.
“Unofficially it is,” August confirmed, clapping him on the back.
The idea of meeting Dylan’s parents was more intimidating than August had thought it would be. How was he supposed to look them in the eyes after all the things he’d done to their son?
Dylan unlocked the door to his apartment, pushing it open and then stopping in his tracks. August walked up behind him and looked over his shoulder, wincing at the interior of Dylan’s little studio.
The roof had fallen down. August pushed Dylan aside and walked into the room, examining the damage. It wasn’t the whole roof, but rather a section of it in the corner over the kitchen nook. From what he could tell, there must have been water damage that weakened the plaster over time, until finally a whole chunk of it had come falling down.
“Fuck,” Dylan said, sounding like he was about to cry.
August was relieved that he was there with him. If he hadn’t been, Dylan might have tried to do something stupid like rummage around while the ceiling threatened to cave the rest of the way in, or even worse, make a deal to stay with Annie or some other friend while his studio was repaired.
“Don’t come inside,” August said, holding up his hand when Dylan looked like he was about to walk into the studio. “The rest of the ceiling could come down any second.”
Dylan paused, but he did not look happy. “I don’t think so. It’s just the section where the stain was located that’s fallen down.”
August knew better than to ask why Dylan hadn’t reported the water damage. He bet he had, and that his cheap building manager hadn’t followed up on it properly.
“I have a roll of extra-large garbage bags in the back of my car. You go get that, and then we can pack up all your stuff and bring it back to the apartment so that it doesn’t get damaged while the ceiling gets fixed.” August saw Dylan’s suitcase under the bed. He grabbed it and opened it up on the floor. “I’ll get started with this.”
He tossed Dylan the keys to his car.
“All right,” Dylan said, clutching the keys. He turned around and jogged down the hall, while August got to work packing.
It didn’t take long. Dylan didn’t have a lot of stuff, and once he’d packed up everything on the desk and the clothes in the closet, there wasn’t much left.
“It looks like the only things that were damaged were the dishes you had in the sink,” August said when Dylan came back. He’d tossed the broken glasses and the cracked bowl in the trash. “Everything else looks good.”
He put the suitcase into the hall, grabbing a trash bag and shoving the rest of Dylan’s clothes and his down comforter into the black plastic.
