Looking for Trouble(43)
Dylan’s eyes damn near glowed. Clay felt it, felt Dylan’s happiness. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re the best! Thank you!” Dylan fell on top of him, wrapped his arms around Clay. He laughed, the vibration of it going through Clay’s chest. Clay held him tight, smiled into Dylan’s neck, wanting nothing more than for this feeling to last…only for him, it never did.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Dylan
Dylan felt like he was living a dream.
He’d never lived with a boyfriend before…except for that one time with Phil, which only lasted a week and he couldn’t even say if they were really boyfriends. He ignored the fact that he didn’t know if he and Clay were either. They didn’t talk about it, even though Dylan wanted to. And he knew Clay likely would talk if Dylan brought it up. Clay had been so different with him lately, so attentive. He’d made Dylan a table…as in he’d crafted the motherfucker himself and welded it together specifically for Dylan and Dylan only. He’d made Dylan his own space in the living room, where his table sat with his sewing machine on it, and he took him shopping so he could pick up more supplies to stock up. They shared their meals and a bed together, and he was lucky enough to be the guy who got to hear Clay laugh, which he did a whole lot when they were together.
He had a good friend in Troy and a job he liked. Sure, it wasn’t some fancy career that took a college degree, but he didn’t give a shit about that. He liked making coffee, damn it. He liked working with people, chatting and getting to know regulars.
And to top it all off, he was also currently running his first rock-painting party, which was pretty amazing. “Oooh. That’s really good. I love rainbows!” Dylan told a young boy as he passed by one of the tables they’d set up outside.
“Me too!” he replied, which made Dylan smile.
Twelve kids had shown up, some with parents who were participating and some who just watched. He wasn’t sure what he should have expected, but twelve felt like a good, solid number. They were also planning one of those adult paint parties in the future.
“Mr. Dylan? What do you think of my painting?” a girl asked. She was holding out a flat rock with a painting Dylan was pretty sure was supposed to be something specific, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was.
“Wow! It’s beautiful. I love all the purple!” he told her.
“It’s my favorite color.”
“It’s my favorite color too. Now every day when I come to work I will see your purple rock and think of my favorite color twinsie.” She gave him a smile that warmed his soul. He didn’t want kids of his own. That just wasn’t what he wanted for his life, but he did love kids. It felt good to do this with them.
Troy came outside with a tray of mini smoothies. “It looks like it’s going really well.”
“It is! The kids seem to think it’s really cool. I have so many ideas for next time. We can try themes. I need to learn to paint some things, but I figure I can do it.” Dylan continued to ramble off his ideas to Troy, which his friend and boss seemed to think were good.
Troy handed Dylan the tray, and he passed out the smoothies. When he looked down the walkway, he saw Clay leaning against the brick wall with his arms crossed. Clay gave him this half grin that made his toes curl and a smile automatically pull at his own lips.
He walked over, buzzing with energy and trying to hold it all back.
“Twelve kids for your first party. That’s great,” Clay told him when Dylan stepped up to him.
“Right? I thought so too, but I wasn’t sure. I mean, how am I supposed to know when I’ve never done anything like this before? I want to, though—do it again, I mean, if we have time before I leave my job, not that I have to leave anytime soon.” His chest was aching.
Clay chuckled. “I think you forgot to breathe there.”
“I think I did too. I can’t help it. I’m excited.”
“You should be. This is…this is really cool, Trouble.”
Dylan curtsied. “Why thank you. I happen to think so.”
Clay glanced over Dylan’s head, toward the kids, before he looked back at Dylan again. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his eyes darting down, and Dylan suddenly felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. Something was wrong. He could see it in the way Clay wouldn’t look at him.
“Listen…I’ve been putting off talking to you about something, but I need to do it before it’s too late. I know you’re busy, and I don’t want to keep you, but you’ll need to talk to Troy.”
“What’s wrong?” Dylan asked, trying to steady his voice so Clay couldn’t hear the fear in it.
“Oh shit. I didn’t mean to make you think something is wrong. It’s just…I have this thing I do every year. It’s next weekend. I rent a cabin in Asheville. I thought about canceling, but then I remembered I still have to teach you how to fish, so I thought I’d see if you wanted to go with me.”
“I’ve never been fishing,” he said stupidly.
Clay grinned. “I know.”
“I’ve never been to Asheville.”
“I figured.”
“I’ve never been fishing in Asheville with you.”