Chapter One
Dylan
I stared at my phone in disbelief. It truly was Mike calling me at three a.m. Mike, the guy I’d been secretly in love with ever since the day I fell on my skateboard and he’d rushed over and helped me home. Mike, my best friend, Pete’s older brother,correction, hisstraightolder brother. But why was he callingme? Had something happened to Pete?
My phone was lit up with a smiling picture of his brown hair sticking out under his Christmas hat with the twinkling tree lights behind him. He’d been so happy that Christmas that I’d grabbed my phone and snapped a pic mid-laugh. I was glad I’d done it; the picture was my favorite of him.
My curiosity won out and I clicked accept just before it rang out. “Mike?”
“Dylan!” Mike greeted with way too much cheer at this hour.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, confused and a tad worried.
“No,” Mike sighed, then began sniffing. Was he crying?!Oh, please don’t cry!I was horrible at consoling people over the phone!
“Mike?” I tried, hoping I could get more out of him. “Are you home?”
“Hmm,” he sniffed.
Mike still lived with Jackson, who was conveniently the guy my best friend Pete was dating.
“Are Jackson and Pete home, too?”
“They are,” Mike whispered, likely just realizing he should keep it down. “They’re so in love, Dylan.”
I sighed at that. “I know.” I was glad Pete had finally snatched Jackson up, mostly because his obsession with the guy had been going on for two whole years. But I also missed my bestie. Maybe Mike could relate to that.
“I’ll never find love like that,” Mike sobbed. “I just get yelled at.”
Suppressing yet another sigh, I soothed my voice. “Have you been drinking, Mike?”
“A little,” he confessed. I knew he was going through a break up at the moment and was likely feeling worse now that Jackson was happily dating Pete, but I had no idea what to say to fix it for him. I’d only been in love twice, and my only ever girlfriend and I had ended things amicably. My other love was Mike, and even though that wasn’t going well for meat all, I still couldn’t relate to his anguish. I’d never had Mike be mine and then lost him, if I had, I would likely be sobbing too.
Speaking from the heart seemed to be the only thing I could do right now, and with how often I’d heard about Mike’s arguments with his ex-girlfriend Vera, I could actually say what I truly thought of her.
“Look, man. Vera is a bitch okay?”
My calm no-nonsense tone must’ve surprised Mike because he laughed. “She is, isn’t she?!”
“She is,” I confirmed, nodding to myself in the dark. It was nice finally saying this. Mike might never be mine, but he at least deserved someone who would appreciate him. “She knew you wantedto travel. She even seemed to admire your passion at one point,” I continued. “But giving you crap every time you had to leave, and then guilt tripping you into coming home earlier because she was lonely? Not cool, man.”
He sighed. “Pete told you, huh?”
“He did,” I admitted. I hoped Pete wouldn’t mind me spilling the beans. Me being the one person Pete talked to about everything meant I kneweverything. “He was worried about you, said you seemed so down every time you returned home.”
“Well, it was hard coming home to arguments and yellingeverytime,” Mike grumbled.
“Was that why you began working in the office more?” Mike had travelled way less than he’d planned, and as an anthropologist, that said a lot. We spent every Christmas together, Pete and I—my mothers didn’t celebrate Christmas—and that meant I saw Mike a lot even after he moved out. One Christmas, he’d told us how excited he was to travel to all these different countries. He wanted to travel once a month, more if possible. But he’d only gone on three trips this past year.
“Relationships are about compromise,” Mike stated, like it was something Vera had told him over and over again.
“Right,” I agreed. “So, she should know not to give you crap about your work. Especially since she knew full well what your future career would be. Compromise means give and take, not control and demand.” I sounded so wise. Maybe I should wake up earlier and not waste this talent on sleeping.
I was met with silence. Had Mike fallen asleep? He sounded to be sobering up the longer we spoke, but perhaps I’d bored him to death with my wisdom?
“Thank you, Dylan, I’m glad I called you.” Mike’s soft voice was all fondness and appreciation and I shivered from the force of it. Maybe I had a praise kink like Pete, because damn it felt good hearing those words from Mike.
“Anytime,” I whispered back, my heart suddenly beating way too fast in my chest.
