28. Alex

CHAPTER 28

ALEX

It took us less than an hour to get out of the city, and once we made it to Harriman State Park, I down-shifted the bike and pulled into a parking spot. Dylan climbed off the back of the bike, struggling with the strap on his helmet but, as usual, refusing to ask for help. I let him fight it for a bit before reaching up and undoing it for him without being asked. His shoulders sagged on an exhale, but he managed to fight the helmet off with one hand. I pulled mine off and re-adjusted my glasses, scrunching my nose and looking around.

“Wow.” Dylan looked around, scrubbing a hand down his face. “It’s so pretty here.”

It was pretty, which was one of the things I liked the most about it. I also liked that it was out of the city without taking hours to get to, the bike helping cut down the time, of course. The ride itself was scenic, and after arrival, there were lakes and trails galore. I’d come out here after I got my motorcycle license with the intent to get lost on more than one occasion, but with Dylan, it was the last thing on my mind.

“I come here often,” I told him. “I thought some fresh air would do you some good.”

He made a derisive noise in the back of his throat. “What gave me away?”

“The listless way you roam the halls paired with your habit of sleeping half the morning away.”

“You’re exhausting,” he said, rolling his eyes.

For what might have been the first time, there wasn’t any cruelty in it, though. And I didn’t look for any hints of it hidden under the surface. I’d spent the past week putting Dylan through it, and we both knew it.

“Let’s go find someplace secluded to have our coffee,” I said.

I locked the ignition on the bike and Dylan set off, walking alongside me as I found a trail that looked easy enough for us to manage with helmets in hand. I tuned into the sound of Dylan’s footsteps beside mine, the way he shuffled more than stepped, the soft huff of his breath when he quickened his pace to catch up if I went too fast for him. He didn’t argue, didn’t complain, and I thought maybe for the first time we had turned a corner with things.

It felt that way to me.

Something about the last time we fucked had been different. It almost felt blasphemous to call it fucking, but none of the other words seemed to fit. I’d told Car I thought I was in love with him, and his ready agreement had caught me off-guard. He wasn’t here, he hadn’t met Dylan, he didn’t know the half of what happened since he’d left, but somehow he still knew? I had thought about calling Brooks, asking him his opinion of the matter since he probably had the most experience—besides mine—with Dylan. But before I could even dial the phone, the answer sounded loud and clear in my mind.

I was very much in love with Dylan Rivers so, no, I hadn’t just fucked him, but there was no way I would tell him that. Everything about the state of our relationship was messy and unconventional, and we were just getting into a new kind of calm about things. I wasn’t going to screw that up by telling him I was in love with him. Those kinds of feelings would change everything. I’d watched it happen with every single one of my friends, for the better, but still…

Dylan was healing from an injury that was just as emotionally traumatic as it was physical. His life was in a state of upheaval and I wasn’t arrogant enough to think I was the only thing keeping him grounded, but I was a big part of it. I wouldn’t risk ruining his sense of safety and security to confess my feelings for him.

If they were real, they would keep.

After a twenty minute walk, we found a small trail that veered off from the main path, and I bumped my shoulder against his so he took it. There was a small bridge over a creek that was nearly dried up, and a few hundred feet farther, it opened up into a small overgrown meadow.

“I don’t think anyone knows this place is here,” Dylan said, mouth settled into the softest and happiest smile I’d ever seen on him.

“We do.”

I shrugged out of my jacket and set it down on the grass, then I helped him out of his backpack and watched him do the same. We sat down and kicked out our legs, then I set to the business of pouring coffee for both of us. The sun had crested over the hills on the ride up, and the soft golden rays cast the little field in a beautiful orange and yellow glow.

I put my hands behind me to lean back and stretch, watching out of the corner of my eye as Dylan moved to mirror the pose on instinct before realizing that his shoulder made it impossible. He grunted and frowned, straightening his spine and taking a drink of coffee.

“Come on,” I said, angling myself to the side so our shoulder blades matched up. He pressed his back against mine, sighing in relief. More than anything, I wanted Dylan to learn to ask for help, but I didn’t think the word was in his vocabulary. I’d spent a week watching him struggle with eggs and clothes, fighting the noise in his mind at every step. To me, it seemed the only time his brain went quiet was when he was in the playroom or on his back.

There were worse things.

We sat together quietly, drinking coffee and staring out at opposite sides of the meadow and listening to the birds chirp their good mornings to each other. He reached for the backpack and pulled out a muffin, twisting his arm around to hand me one before taking the other for himself. That stupid four-letter word twisted itself around in my chest again, and I chased it down with another swallow of coffee.

“Are you my boyfriend?” he asked me next, hand flat against the ground, fingers tensed nervously against the bunched arm of my jacket beneath us. I dropped my hand down next to his, stretching my pinky out toward his. His skin was warm, and as soon as we touched, the nervous twitch of his fingers went still. My own heart skipped and then slowed, settling into the most comfortable and strong beat against my ribs, repeating that word to me over and over again with every pulse.

“Do you want me to be?” I asked.

“I want to know what you want before I answer that.” He bumped the back of his head against mine.

“I want you.”

“As a boyfriend?” he pressed.

I hooked my pinky around his, bringing more of our hands into contact. “As however you’ll have me.”

“That’s not an answer,” he murmured, grunting as he raised his injured arm to get a drink of coffee.

“What do you want, Dylan?” I asked instead.

He was at a disadvantage, reliant on me for so many things. It didn’t feel fair or reasonable for me to be the one leading the conversation with my own, selfish wants.

“More,” he rasped, overlapping more of my hand with his own.

“More of what?”

“More of everything.”

All of our fingers were threaded together, an awkward reverse hold that felt more perfect than anything else ever had before. I gave him a squeeze and closed my eyes, using his body for as much support as he used mine.

“What is everything?” I asked.

Dylan sighed, chewing another bite of his breakfast and swallowing.

“Did I ever tell you after the first time we were together I went home and cleaned my shower?”

I huffed out a laugh. “No?”

“I cleaned my shower and it made me so fucking hard, Alex.” The next sound that left Dylan’s mouth sounded almost like a whimper. “It made me hard and I jerked off about it.”

“Why?”

“I wish I knew,” he said. “But you made me clean my cum up off the floor and it was one of the hottest things I’d ever done.”

“What part of it?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Most people would have found it demeaning.”

“Well, it kind of was.” Dylan shrugged his good shoulder against my back. “That’s why it’s all so confusing for me. But it also feels really simple at the same time.”

“Explain.”

“Like, there’s a thing you need done and you tell me about it, and then I do it. It’s easy.”

“There’s nothing easy about getting on your knees for another man, Dylan.”

He answered that with a sardonic laugh under his breath. “For you, maybe.”

“There’s nothing wrong with liking what you like.”

He exhaled softly, and we sat quietly for another few minutes. The muffins were gone, and I poured out what was left in the thermos into our cups. The coffee was quickly cooling down and the air was warming up. The ride back to the city would be nice, but I wasn’t in a rush to leave the calm comfort of the secluded, off-trail hiding place we’d found. The way I felt in the meadow was how I felt about kink. Somehow hidden, but in the open at the same time.

Private, but not hiding.

“What was it like with your ex?” Dylan asked, the words soft and measured, like he’d been thinking about them for far too long.

Nerves prickled at the back of my neck at the question, and I was glad we weren’t face to face because I didn’t have a chance at stopping the way my nose scrunched at the question. The last time Dylan brought up my ex, I’d thrown him out.

“We were friends for years,” I said.

“Are you still?”

“Getting there.”

Dylan hummed, repeating his initial question, “What was it like with him? Did you do the eggs with him too?”

His elaboration gave me all the information I needed about the intent behind his line of questioning. Dylan was comparing himself, which was a foolish undertaking. He and Car couldn’t have been more different, even in all the ways they were the same.

“No eggs,” I said.

“Why?”

“It wasn’t what he needed.”

“But it’s what I needed?” Dylan asked.

“Wasn’t it?”

He swallowed, entire body moving with it. “What did he need?”

“Dylan…” I paused, knowing it was important to choose my words carefully. “I wouldn’t tell other people the details of what we do together, and I’m not going to tell you details about what he and I did either.”

He grunted. “That’s fair. But like…”

“Are you trying to ask about the Dom/sub aspect of my relationship with him?”

“Yes,” he answered, sounding relieved.

“He was…is…submissive. I was his Dom.”

“Like you are with me?” Dylan asked.

My chest felt hollow and full all simultaneously. I realized in that moment, I wanted to see his face, but I somehow also knew Dylan needed the anonymity to get through this line of inquiry, so I flexed my fingers against his, our hands still joined, letting him know it was okay for him to ask his next question. Facing away from him had also made it easier for me to talk about my past too. Maybe it was the best thing for us, in that moment, to be vulnerable without being scrutinized.

“Similar, but not.”

“Why did you break up?” he asked next.

“He was in love with someone else,” I said.

The details were irrelevant. The facts were the same. And even as the answer left my mouth, I knew what question was coming next. I steeled myself against my own feelings, ready for it when it came.

“Were you in love with him?”

The truth came far easier than I’d expected it to.

“The idea of him, I think,” I admitted.

“Are you in love with me?” he asked, laughing at himself before speaking again. “Never mind, don’t answ?—”

Yes.

“Yes.”

Dylan’s laugh died in his throat. “What?”

“Yes, I’m in love with you.”

“Oh.”

It was my turn to laugh, palm sweating against Dylan’s. “It’s okay if you don’t?—”

“I love you too,” he blurted, turning at the same time as I did so quickly he almost fell right onto my lap. I caught him, both hands cradling his face to keep his eyes on mine. “But why?”

“What?”

“Why do you love me?” he asked, gaze worried and searching.

“It was impossible to not,” I told him honestly. “I don’t think I ever stood a chance.”

“But why ?” He pushed forward against my fingers, eyes wide.

I stroked my thumb beneath his eye, unprepared to find words for something that simply felt right all the way down to my bones.

“You’re the bravest man I’ve ever met,” I told him. “You’re strong and stubborn.”

“I’m not brave.”

“You’re here,” I reminded, pressing my thumb against his cheekbone. “You’re here .”

I meant in that moment, in my life. I meant with me .

“I was so mean to you,” he argued. “I still am.”

“Not today.”

He breathed out, a soft smile flashing across his mouth before he fought to point his chin toward his chest, escaping my scrutiny.

“If you meant it, you would leave,” I said simply. “I know that and so do you.”

“I don’t want to leave,” he whispered.

“Like I said…brave.”

“Stubborn,” he said instead.

“You can be both. You are both. You can be anything you want, Dylan.”

“I just want to be with you,” he said. “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“I’m yours,” I promised.

“I want you to be my Dom,” he said next, words shaky.

“I’m yours, Dylan,” I said again, leaning in and pressing our mouths together in a quick kiss. “In every way you want me.”

He moaned against my lips, swaying forward and chasing after a better kiss.

“Does this mean I get my piano today?” he asked.

“I already ordered it,” I told him. “It means when we get home, I’m taking you straight into the playroom.”

“Fuck, alright.” His lashes fluttered, cheeks flushing. “Yes, please. Thank you. I love you, Alex. What the fuck?”

I laughed quietly, kissing him again.

“I love you too, pet.”