Ryker sat down, while August was frowning.
“Which part?” August asked. He didn’t look upset, but he’d lost the cocky aura he’d had just a few seconds ago.
“The spitting,” Dylan said, swallowing again. “Everything else was really nice.”
Ryker sat down. He smiled at Dylan, a look of pride on his face that had Dylan feeling all tingly all the way to his fingertips.
August looked apologetic.
“Thank you for telling us, Dylan,” Ryker said. “We won’t spit in your mouth again.”
“I’m sorry,” August said, nodding along with what Ryker was saying. “It can be different, imagining something when you’re chatting online and actually doing it.”
Dylan understood exactly what August meant, but he didn’t see how it was at all relevant to what had just happened.
“It’s okay. I’m not even sure I disliked it. I was surprised.”
He hadn’t disliked it the first time August did it, but he decided not to mention that.
August looked relieved. “Next time I’ll ask, and then you can decide if you want me to do it or not.” Ryker shot him a look, and August added, “But not tonight. We’ll keep spitting off the menu until further notice.”
Once again, Steve the waiter opened the door just in time to hear the tail-end of August’s sentence.
He must have girded himself, because this time he didn’t blush.
“Your IPA, sir. Your main course will be served very soon. May I collect your plates?”
Ryker nodded, and Steve cleared the dirty plates, along with Ryker’s empty glass.
“Thank you for waiting until we were done,” Ryker said, making Steve nearly drop the dishes and turn a deep, blushing red.
“Of course, sir. Let me go check on your food.”
He practically ran out of the room.
Dylan blinked, realizing that Steve must have come to serve Ryker his IPA and seen that Dylan was busy getting a massage and having his face fingered.
He could never come back here.
“You’re such a jerk,” August said, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of his beer.
“He loved it,” Ryker said, not sorry in the least. “And he didn’t see anything scandalous. My fingers were nowhere near Dylan’s mouth when he walked in.”
Dylan slumped in relief. August and Ryker standing next to him while he was sitting down was weird, but not as embarrassing as it could have been.
“Let’s not risk it again, okay?” Dylan piped up, his face red. “We shouldn’t do stuff like that in public.”
August wrinkled his nose.
“I agree,” Ryker said. August shot him a betrayed look. “If we’re going to do stuff in public, we should make sure it’s not something people can see.”
That wasn’t quite what Dylan had said, but it was close enough. August also looked mollified.
Dylan reached for his drink, taking a sip.
“So if you’re not sure on the spitting, does that mean that pissing on you is off the table, too?”
Dylan choked on his Diet Coke.
