by Sam LaRose
He parked in a ramp, down the block from the diner. He shivered, zipping his jacket tighter as he stepped out of the ramp to make his way up the block. The diner sign looked welcoming in the distance. He could already taste the bacon cheeseburger and fries he was planning on ordering.
He didn’t pay any attention to the others on the sidewalk, focused on getting inside the diner and out of the cold. His hand jerked back from the door handle as he and another person reached for it at the same time.”
“I’m so sorry,” they spoke in unison, “I didn’t—”
Dylan looked up at the same time Tyler did.
“Dylan,” Tyler finally spoke. There was a faltering moment as he reached for the door again. “Go ahead.”
“Are you alone?” Dylan asked, leaning to see if anyone was behind him.
“Yes. I just left a friend’s and decided dinner sounded like a good idea.”
Dylan nodded, stepping through the doorway. He turned back as Tyler followed. “Why don’t you join me? We can grab a table that way. I hate eating at the counter.”
Tyler nodded as the waitress approached with menus. They were escorted into a booth, their drink orders taken, and then left to stare at each other across the table.
“Real talk,” Dylan incited the magic words. “I’m not perfect.”
Tyler couldn’t stop the smile from crossing his face. “No. You’re not.”
“You aren’t either.”
“Agreed.”
“I love you anyway.”
Tyler hummed, picking up the menu. He didn’t need to look at it. He already knew what he was ordering. The same thing he ordered every time they came, a Midnight Breakfast platter. If he was still hungry, he’d have a slice of their pie of the day.
“Tyler,” Dylan pressed.
“Yes?” Tyler looked up at him, eyebrow raised.
“I love you,” he repeated briskly.
“I know.”
Dylan frowned, unamused. “That’s it? You’re going to Han Solo your way through this?”
“Dylan, you know I love you too. Imperfections and all. I handled our relationship back then wrong. From the very beginning. I never should have let you end things when you left Tynan. I should have told you right away when we came to New York. I should have talked to you about the drugs when I suspected something wasn’t right.” He closed the menu again, setting it back down. “You’re not innocent in all of that either. You should have been honest with your feelings in Tynan. You should have told me you were struggling with school.”
“If only we could go back three years and tell our past selves that. Not that we would have listened.”
“True,” Tyler agreed. There was a beat of silence before he finally mustered up the courage to ask. “What are we going to do now?”
“Now? We’re going to have dinner. You’re going to order the Midnight Breakfast, like you always do. I’m getting a bacon cheeseburger, because breakfast food after two PM and before ten PM is not something I do.” Dylan set his own menu on top of Tyler’s. “After dinner, I’ll drive us back to the apartment. We’ll go to my place, because it’s the most likely to be empty.”
“Really?” Tyler felt a smile creep across his face. Dylan watched a sparkle return to his eyes that he hadn’t seen in a long time.
“It’s Friday,” he explained, “so the polycule is probably getting dinner at Sakura. Jordan doesn’t like sushi, so he’s probably meeting with Kyle later in the evening.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because that’s their usual MO. I picked it up quickly. I’m surprised you don’t know their schedule.”
“I try to stay out of the polycule.”
“They’ve mentioned you don’t approve. Why is that?”
“It’s not about approval,” Tyler admitted. “It’s a little bit of jealousy. I don’t understand how they can all just...be together. It would drive me crazy.”
“I think it’s nice that they all trust each other. It’s not for me,” Dylan admitted, “but they seem happy. Or, they usually do.” He frowned. “You should know that three out of the five want to sleep with me.”
“Three out of five?” Tyler gave a low whistle. “That seems low for you.”
“Markus didn’t say one way or the other, to be fair. We both know how Heath feels about me.”
“Heath would totally bang you,” Tyler informed him. “He doesn’t hate you.”
“I know. He came up to my place during his bon voyage party when he saw I wasn’t there. I wouldn’t say he’s interested in having sex with me though.”
Tyler shrugged. “Are you interested?”
“Tonight, there’s only one person I’m interested in.”
“And who is that?”
Dylan contemplated teasing him. Finally, he compromised. “Only you. If it’s awful and we’ve completely lost the spark, then I’ll go back to Jordan and Kyle. Kyle’s been fishing for a threesome, and while it’s not—”
Tyler stood up, leaning across the table to kiss him. He grinned against his lips. “Don’t even joke about that.” He sank back into his seat. “You mean it though? You want to try again?”
“I can’t think of anything I want more. I almost died, you know, and you only live once.”
Epilogue
“What made you decide to finally join me?” Travis handed a cup of coffee to Dylan. They’d wrapped up a meeting at a café and were talking at a small table to catch up.
“I started seeing a therapist,” Dylan told him. “About a month or so now.”
“They told you that you should start coming again?”
“Coming to meetings was never the thing that kept me from drinking or doing drugs,” Dylan told him. “I came tonight because I know it’s important to you. Your friendship, since I came back to the city, meant a lot to me.”
“But you’re not interested in staying sober?”
“My therapist is convinced that my substance abuse was self-medicating,” Dylan explained. “She also thinks I’m neuro-atypical. That’s harder to prove at my age. It certainly explains the hyper-fixations I develop. My predilection for routine. That’s what going to meetings were for me; routine.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m starting behavior therapies,” Dylan answered. “I am sober. I’m not even drinking socially. I’m certainly not taking any drugs.”
“I’m glad you got the help you need,” Travis admitted. “I wish you would have just called me. I’ve been going to meetings almost every day for a month, trying to get you to join me.”
Dylan smiled. “I’m sorry. I meant to do this sooner, but I’ve been busy. My website traffic has been insane.”
“I know. I’ve been getting the weekly stats, since I set it up for you.”
“You haven’t billed me for the work you did,” Dylan frowned at him.
“I did it for you as a friend,” Travis assured him.
“I appreciate that, but I need some more full time IT help. Would you be interested in letting me put you on retainer? You’ll still have plenty of time for your other freelance work. You’d only need to check into my office once a week or so to make sure everything is running well. Do some tweaks on the website. That kind of thing. Harriet is great, but it’s getting to be overwhelming for her. If you could help with the website and tech stuff, she can focus on the social media marketing and packaging. We even hired a temp to help with all of the Christmas shipping.”
“Sounds like things are going really well.”
“They are!” Dylan grinned. “Jordan’s boyfriend and I collaborated on a gift package with a couple of other artists. They completely sold out across all our websites in a few days. We talked about doing a second run, but we didn’t want to cheapen the deal.”
“That’s amazing.”
“You seem disappointed.”
“I’m not. I’m very happy that you’re doing better.”
“Are you?”
&n
bsp; “I’m sad I’m losing a meeting buddy.”
“I can still go to an occasional meeting with you. Plus, if we’re working together, we can do fun things instead. Like get lunch, or send Harriet out for coffee and bagels.”
Travis laughed. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have been so hard on you. You know what’s best for you.”
“Thanks for understanding.”
Travis’s phone started to buzz in his pocket. “Shit, I’ve got to get home. Garret’s company is having their holiday party tonight and I need to get home to change.”
“I should get going too,” Dylan admitted. “There’s a Foundation event tonight and a Battle of the Bands that I need to go to.”
“Battle of the Bands, huh?”
“The Foundation partnered with the Literature, Music, and Art departments of CSG to bring a Holiday Montage to life. There will be bands, readings, and plenty of art. If your party is a bust, we’ll be at the Central Park Concert Hall.”
“I’ll be sure to tell Garret we have a second option for the night’s entertainment,” Travis promised. “I’ll stop by next week about that retainer.”
Dylan watched Travis leave the café before he made his way out as well. He didn’t have time to head anywhere besides the gallery. They’d been able to set up the space the night before. The hall was a small venue; the entry of which acted as the art gallery. One small room was reserved for refreshments and readings, another for a more classic music recital, and finally the bands were playing in the larger concert hall.
“You’re here.” Arms wrapped around Dylan’s shoulders and lips pressed to his neck. “I was getting worried.”
“I went to a meeting with Travis,” Dylan allowed Tyler to take his coat. “We had coffee after.”
Tyler led him toward the coat-check. “How was the meeting?”
“The meeting was boring and I don’t regret not going back to them,” Dylan informed him. “Travis is going to stop by my office next week to talk about doing some IT stuff for me.”
“That’s good.” Tyler exchanged a five-dollar bill for the coat tag. He turned, tucking the chip into Dylan’s front pocket. “Everyone else is already here. The music director was looking for you. She wanted to make sure that Morgan’s slot on the battle didn’t interfere with her piece in the show.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.”
“I’ve never heard Jack’s sister play before,” Tyler whispered. “Was it a good idea to give them a pass with one of their members being a non-student?”
“Lydia can be a bit much,” Dylan admitted, “but this is a Foundation event, not a CSG event. We invited bands from several other area schools, including the public schools.” He pressed a brief kiss to Tyler’s lips. “I have to go do the meet-and-greet thing with some parents, but I’ll join you in the concert hall before the show starts.”
“Jordan and Heath are holding us seats, right in the front.”
“Oh god,” Dylan’s eyes widened.
“Hey, Heath is really excited to see Natalie play,” Tyler raised his hands. “I tried to tell him we’re all going to go deaf that close, but he promised he brought enough ear plugs for all of us. He’s also incredibly annoyed that you asked me to be a judge and not him.”
“Heath isn’t capable of being impartial. Neither is Jordan, for that matter. They’re too close to Natalie and Lydia,” Dylan reminded him. “You on the other hand are an island to all of the participants. You’re all prepped to play the special, secret finale?”
“We can’t wait,” Tyler assured him.
Dylan pushed him toward the hall. He turned to watch the doors open to admit the first parents and students of the evening. It took him a few minutes to realize that the smile on his face didn’t feel fake for the first time in...years. He shook hands and directed people toward their student’s work, then to the various events they were most looking forward to with their students. The most popular being the Battle.
“Dylan!”
He turned, spotting his parents making their way over from the coat check. His smiled faltered.
“Darling,” Martha squeezed his arms, “this looks amazing. Which room has the reading by Harlan Jules?”
“Mr. Jules will be reading in the Redwood Room at seven o’clock,” Dylan pointed to the smaller room with the refreshments. “There are several students who will be doing readings of their own work before him. The recital is in the Pine room, if you wanted to enjoy that.”
“I think I could use a cookie and some punch,” Martha hummed. “Plus, I want a good seat for Harlan.” She bustled away toward the Redwood.
Dylan looked up at his Dad.
“Can I direct you somewhere?”
“Thank you for inviting us,” Peter said.
“Well, you still haven’t deposited my check,” Dylan said. “I’m not done being mad at you, but you’re still my parents.”
“It was never about money, Dylan,” Peter scoffed. “I went too far, and I’m sorry.”
“That’s all I wanted to hear, Dad.” Dylan shrugged. “I forgive you.”
A disbelieving smile pulled at Peter’s lips. “You’re an enigma I’ll never understand, Dylan.” He pulled him into a brief, tight hug. “Let’s put all this behind us now. You’ve been doing well. I know you can take care of yourself.”
“You haven’t been having me tailed then?”
“No. I tried to talk David into it, but he rightly refused to humor me this time. Mora also gave me a very stern talking to.”
“I guess she isn’t so bad as a sister,” Dylan admitted.
“After the festivities tonight,” Peter suggested, “why don’t we all go get dinner together? My treat.”
“I’ll have to check with my friends. We usually go to the Greasy Spoon after late events,” Dylan said.
“I’m not sure how I feel about a place called Greasy Spoon, but I’m willing to give it a shot.”
“You’ll love it,” Dylan assured him. His phone started to go off in his pocket. “Oh, the Battle is starting. I have to go make sure that Heath isn’t trying to sway one of the judges.” He rolled his eyes. “Enjoy the event.”
He bustled away toward the concert hall. The curtains were still drawn over the stage, and the music director was just taking her place at the microphone.
“Hey, you can’t sit here,” he tapped Heath on the shoulder.
“What do you mean I can’t sit here?” Heath glowered at him.
“I trust you about as far as I can throw you, to not whisper your opinions to Tyler,” Dylan glowered back. “Plus, he’s my boyfriend.”
Heath grunted, shifting into the empty seat that had been between himself and Jack.
“I told you so,” Jack muttered. He laced his fingers with Heath’s. “Just relax and enjoy the music!”
Heath grumbled, slouching in the seat and crossing his legs at the knee.
Dylan sat down next to Tyler. “Where’s everyone else?”
“Mora and Simon are with Dani at the recital,” Tyler answered, adjusting the score sheets on his clipboard.
“K and M are in the back. They’re going to the reading after Nat and her friends play,” Jack leaned past Heath. “They’re on third, so Morgan can get back to the gallery.”
“Are they nervous?”
“Natalie is pretending not to be. Lydia has thrown up at least once. Morgan seems okay. They said they’ve been doing a public speaking unit in English, so they feel prepared.”
Heath snorted and Jack smacked him in the chest with the back of his hand.
“Ow,” Heath reached up, rubbing his pec. “It’s like you’re wearing brass knuckles.”
“You gave it to me, asshole.” Jack waggled the chunky banded engagement ring at him. “I told you it was ridiculous.”
“You don’t have to wear it,” Heath demurred. “It was more about giving it to you and asking than it was about you wearing it.”
“Of course I’m going to wear it!” Jack swatted him again,
this time with an open palm. Heath still emitted an exaggerated grunt.
“Stop bickering,” Dylan nudged Heath in the knee as the lights came down over the audience. “They’re starting.”
The curtains parted to show off a collection of guitars, two drum sets, a keyboard, a harp, and an impressive collection of other percussion instruments. An older woman with graying hair stepped up to the microphone to introduce the first band of the evening. Dylan let his eyes slide to Tyler who was taking his duties as judge very seriously.
If you had asked him back in May where he would be, a week before Christmas, this wouldn’t have even been an option for his answer. He never expected the last few months to have gone the way they had. He hadn’t allowed himself to dream that he’d be able to sit next to Tyler Norse, as his boyfriend, ever again.
Tyler felt his gaze and turned his attention momentarily from the stage to give him a brief kiss. “You’re distracting me.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” Tyler reached over, linking their fingers together. “You can remind me how much later.”
Dylan rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the stage as the lights went dark again.
Don't miss out!
Click the button below and you can sign up to receive emails whenever Sam LaRose publishes a new book. There's no charge and no obligation.
https://books2read.com/r/B-A-YMEK-JZPNB
Connecting independent readers to independent writers.
Did you love Press Play? Then you should read Real Talk by Sam LaRose!