Looking for Trouble(61)

Elijah grinned. “Gideon is kind of a bitch.”

“No, I’m not that lucky,” Dylan said. “I think I’ve put on a couple of pounds since I’ve been here. Oh! We should jog or something, Clay…no, I hate jogging. Yoga?”

“You look perfect the way you are. We can definitely work out if you want, but you don’t need to change anything.”

“Aww!” Elijah and Gideon said in unison, making Clay’s face heat.

“You guys are really cute together,” Elijah said.

“Maybe I should try dating older men…” Gideon wondered aloud.

Dylan reached over and grabbed his hand, and Clay felt a tightness in his chest. “Doesn’t matter how old someone is. Any guy can be a dick. Clay’s kind because that’s who he is.” He grinned up at Clay.

“Don’t give me too much credit, Trouble.”

They chuckled as they headed into the restaurant. It was loud, full of people grabbing a late bite before going out. The decor was modern, a lot of silver and sleek black.

They were seated and ordered drinks, Clay getting one beer because he figured he needed it before he cut himself off for the night.

The conversation continued nonstop between the other four: music, dancing, clubbing, hookups, and anything else they could think to talk about. Every now and again, Dylan would squeeze his thigh or lean over and kiss him, and Clay always smiled at him, trying to encourage him to have fun. Elijah and Gideon asked how they met and what Clay did. It was obvious they were trying to include him, and while he appreciated it, he also felt like a charity case.

A part of him knew he was overreacting, and if he would just let go and try to enjoy himself, it wouldn’t be bad, but he couldn’t help feeling out of place, as though he looked like he was having some kind of midlife crisis, and maybe he was.

When they finished eating, they made their way toward the bar. There was already a line outside, people laughing and talking.

Clay hung back while everyone else was chatting and laughing about a story Troy was telling, just as another guy ran up to them. “Troy!”

They hugged, dancing around, obviously excited to see each other. When they pulled apart, his eyes automatically found Clay, sliding up and down his body. “Oooh, who’s the Daddy?” he asked.

Clay’s stomach flipped a few times, discomfort rolling down his spine.

“No, no. You don’t get him, Lennox,” Troy told the guy. “This is Clay, Dylan’s boyfriend. And that’s Dylan. Guys, this is Lennox.”

“Ugh. The good ones are always taken. Why can’t I find a Daddy?” Lennox winked, and while Clay knew he was joking, that didn’t stop his comfort level from dropping even lower than it had already been. He had no problem with Daddy/boy dynamics. It wasn’t him and Dylan, but Clay was a firm believer in people doing whatever felt right to them. Unfortunately, it just made him feel…older. Reminded him that he was old enough to be Dylan’s dad, and hey, his best friend had been.

The guys began chatting again as Dylan wrapped his arms around Clay’s waist. He looked up at Clay, his chin on Clay’s chest, and whispered, “It’ll be fine.”

“I know.” He attempted a grin that likely came out looking as forced as it felt. He kissed Dylan’s forehead before they moved up in the line.

It wasn’t long before Lennox returned to his other group of friends, and the five of them made it into the bar.

Pop music was playing, and scantily dressed men were dancing.

“What do you want to drink?” Troy shouted over the music when they reached the bar.

“I’m good,” Clay replied.

The rest of them all ordered shots, which they took together, hooting and hollering, before doing a second round, then a third. Dylan’s eyes were already slightly glossy when Elijah said, “Let’s dance!”

“Come on!” Dylan grabbed Clay’s hand and tried to follow his friends, but Clay didn’t budge.

“You go. I’m going to head over there.” He pointed to an empty space of wall he could hold up.

“No, don’t go hide in the corner. I want you to dance with me,” Dylan begged, his voice dancing as though he was already buzzed.

“Nah, Trouble. You go dance and have fun. I’ll be okay.”

Dylan crossed his arms. “Please…just once. If you don’t have fun, you can stop. You didn’t think you would have fun dancing in Asheville and you did.”

“That was different.” At least it had felt it. “It’s not really my thing.”

“You’re not even trying to have fun!”

“That’s because this isn’t really my idea of fun,” he countered. But he was there. Didn’t that count for something?

Dylan turned on his heels, attempting to stalk away, but Clay held him. “Don’t pout. I’m here. I’m doing the best I can. You go dance and have fun. I’ll enjoy watching you.” And he would too. He enjoyed watching Dylan do anything.

“I feel bad,” Dylan replied.

“Hey…don’t feel bad.” He brushed his thumb over Dylan’s cheek. “I want you to enjoy yourself. I want you to make friends here. I want this to be your home.”

Dylan beamed at him, his blue eyes nearly sparkling. He pushed up on his toes and pressed a kiss to Clay’s lips. “It is home. You’re home. You better watch me. I’m dancing for you.”