Learning Curve

by H J Welch

  What was that? He frowned. Had he heard something?

  “Okay, Google. Lower the volume to twenty percent.”

  The home automation system cheerfully complied, turning the music down to a murmur. Myles frowned as the tomato sauce and pasta water bubbled quietly, but he wasn’t sure what it was he’d thought he’d heard.

  Perhaps-

  There was a knock at the door.

  He blinked. Who could that be? At least he hadn’t made it up. That must have been the noise that had made it through his loud music.

  Oh, fuck. He hoped it wasn’t one of his neighbors complaining. His house was detached from those either side of it, but still. What if Freddie’s vocals had traveled over their yards?

  He shook his head as he turned the stove down and jogged from the kitchen through the hall toward the front door. It was probably just someone selling something. No need to get nervous.

  Except when he opened the door, Dillon Combes was standing on the other side.

  “Oh!” Myles blurted in shock before he could even think about stopping himself. “What are you – hi! I mean, uhhh…”

  Dillon waved his fingers then awkwardly slipped his hands into his jeans pockets. He had changed from earlier in the day into a more worn-looking pair with rips at the knees and a long-sleeved forest-green Henley that clung sinfully to his body. He may have been slim, but now Myles could see he was well toned and suddenly his heart felt like it was beating in his ears.

  “I tried calling,” Dillon said, like he was apologizing for something. “A few times. Then I left a couple of texts.” He flinched. “Then I reread those texts and they seemed so over the top and I couldn’t tell if you were ignoring me or if I’d really fucked up. So, uh, well the reason I have your number – and address – is that Corinne gave them to me and seemed pretty sure we should talk about, you know, stuff. So, I’m not a stalker, I swear. But I thought if you were mad, I could maybe explain – or apologize – in person and, so, yeah…” He scuffed his shoe on the welcome mat, looked at his sneakers, then back up at Myles. “Here I am.”

  He waved his hands in a weak attempt at jazz hands and bit his lip, his eyebrows raised. He was so cute and sweet Myles’s heart actually contracted.

  “I think I left my phone in my other pants,” Myles said simply. He’d changed into sweatpants when he’d got back from the zoo in the hope that being comfortable might make him less miserable. “Sorry. It’s…it’s nice to see you, though. Is everything okay?” Myles’s mind was whirring too fast. He couldn’t quite comprehend the sight of Dillon outside his home. That thought did prompt his manners, however. “Oh! Um, would you like to come in?”

  Dillon rubbed the back of his neck and gave Myles a lopsided smile. “Only if I’m not interrupting?”

  Myles shook his head. “I’m all alone,” he said softly.

  If Dillon thought it was pathetic Myles was spending Friday night all by himself, he didn’t show it. In fact, Dillon’s reaction looked to be the opposite as his eyes lit up and he bound up the step past Myles and into the entrance hall.

  “You have a gorgeous house,” he gushed. “Oh my god, something smells good, too.”

  Myles couldn’t help but chuckle as he closed the door on the warm evening air. So. Dillon was in his house, now. Myles felt like his skin was tingling all over his body.

  “Err, oh, yes,” he said eloquently. “I was attempting to make pasta. But it’s not quite happening.”

  Then something quite reckless took over him. He gestured toward the kitchen down the hall.

  “I mean, there’s loads. I don’t know what your plans are, but, uh, if you wanted to, um, stay?”

  Dillon looked back at Myles and grinned. “For dinner?” he asked.

  “Sorry, that’s crazy,” Myles said, feeling himself blush as embarrassment flooded through him. “You’re probably on your way out clubbing with your friends or something, right?”

  Dillon snorted and grinned even wider. “I actually came to see if you wanted to hang out. It felt like things got a bit complicated this afternoon, so I thought I’d uncomplicate them.” He bit his lip, but it didn’t lessen his grin much. “Dinner sounds perfect.”

  Myles’s heart skipped a beat. It felt like it had been doing that a whole lot lately. Before he could stop himself, he found he was grinning too.

  “Okay,” he said with only a hint of a nervous laugh. “Uh, do you want a drink? Are you driving?”

  He immediately winced, but again, Dillon didn’t react like Myles was being an old fusspot. He just shook his head and headed in the direction of the kitchen. Myles followed.

  “I got an Uber,” Dillon said. “I, um, might have had a beer before I came. Liquid courage and all.”

  He glanced back at Myles as they reached the kitchen, looking at him through his honey-colored eyelashes. Myles wished his heart would decide if it was going to beat fast or not at all. The unpredictableness was going to land him in the ER at this rate.

  Why did Dillon need liquid courage?

  Myles stopped by the fridge and their gazes met. “I’m not that scary,” he said.

  “I know,” Dillon replied warmly.

  Myles’s skin tingled all over again. He smiled and drummed his fingers on the fridge door. “Do you want another beer? Or I have a particularly nice merlot open if you’d prefer?”

  “Merlot?” Dillon asked, looking around. His cheerfulness was back, breaking the tension between them. Myles had to say he was relieved. “That’s red wine, right? I’d love to try some, thanks.” His eyebrows shot up once more as he snapped his head back in Myles’s direction. “Unless it’s expensive? I don’t mind, honestly. I’ll drink whatever.”

  Myles chuckled. He’d expected to be tongue-tied with nerves, feeling insecure and panicked. But Dillon just made him feel at home. Like he’d walked in and filled in all those lonely gaps Myles had just been sensing before his arrival.

  “It is a little expensive, yes. But I always buy by the case and end up drinking them slowly alone.” He opened a narrow, ceiling-high cupboard designed to hold a couple of dozen bottles of wine on their sides. “It’s much better to share nice things, I always think.”

  Dillon laughed, loud and hearty, then skipped the couple of steps around the breakfast bar and across the kitchen to look into the wine rack. “You’ve got an actual damn wine cellar. Oh my god, you’re so cool.” He grinned and spun around, looking at the kitchen. “This house is so nice, man. I love it.”

  Myles tried not to blush. He knew his house was great. Being an architect, he’d overseen the development himself and worked with several of his favorite interior design companies. It was his sanctuary.

  But in that moment, he realized how little company he’d had over aside from Jenny, Corinne and Rafael, and a few work colleagues. But that had been more of a business dinner. This was possibly the first time he’d shared his home with…what was Dillon, exactly? A friend?

  Myles hoped so.

  He poured Dillon a glass of wine and topped his own up. “Cheers,” he murmured.

  Considering how rambunctious Dillon could be, he tapped his wine glass very carefully to Myles’s. The ting rang through the kitchen, chiming like a bell. “Cheers,” he repeated back, then took a sip of the ruby-red liquid. “Ohh, that is very nice,” he said. Then he licked his lips, his eyes sparkling.

  Myles tried not to laugh nervously and turned back to the stove, upping the heat under the pots again. “I’m making a kind of vegan pasta casserole…thing,” he said, scrunching up his nose. “If it’s no good, we can order Thai. I have a great place nearby.”

  Dillon laughed. “Jenny does that.”

  Myles stirred the thickening sauce, then looked back at Dillon. He was standing by his side. “Does what?”

  Dillon took a sip of wine, swirling the contents of the glass after he did, then reached forward with his free hand to tap the tip of Myles’s nose with his index finger. �
��That. The scrunchy nose thing. It’s adorable.”

  “Oh,” said Myles softly.

  It was like Dillon had broken through some invisible barrier. Myles couldn’t remember the last time such brief human contact made him feel like this. Like he could float away at any second. Like his head was full of singing.

  “Oh,” he said again. “I can change the music, if you’d prefer? I know this is a bit old.”

  Dillon looked affronted. “Are you kidding? I love Queen! I used to strut around to their Greatest Hits II in my mom’s heels singing “I Want To Break Free” for like a whole year.” He laughed. “Can we turn it up?”

  “No problem,” said Myles. Yep. Dillon just made things easy. “Okay, Google. Increase volume to forty percent.”

  “Sure, volume at forty percent.”

  Dillon slammed his wine glass down on the counter, but luckily it didn’t crack or slosh any wine out. He slapped his hands either side of his face. “You have a talking robot to do your evil bidding! Can I make it launch the nukes?”

  Myles laughed heartily. “No, but you can set a timer for five minutes.”

  Dillon spun around to face the box. “Hi, Google!” he cried with a wave. “We need a timer for five minutes. Please. Thanks.”

  Myles laughed harder. “No, uh, you have to start with ‘okay’ and then ‘Google.’ That’s what wakes it up. Try again.”

  Dillon laughed and pulled at his earlobe. “Okay, Google,” he shouted slowly. Then he raised his eyebrows at Myles, asking if that was right. Myles nodded encouragingly. “Please can you set a timer for five minutes? We’d really appreciate it.”

  “Sure,” Google replied. “Five minutes, and that’s starting – now.”

  Dillon cackled and picked up his wine again. “That’s so neat. I love it.” His eyes met Myles’s gaze. “What?”

  “You,” Myles said. “You’re…you’re great.” His chest contracted dangerously but the world didn’t end and his heart didn’t stop.

  “Yeah?” Dillon asked. There was naked hope and not a small amount of vulnerability all wrapped up in that one word.

  Myles licked his lips. “Yeah,” he said. “I…I’m sorry things got strange between us earlier. I, well, I’m glad you came over. You said Corinne gave you my address?”

  Dillon nodded. “I hope that’s all right?” he asked. “She seemed to think it would be nice for us to hang out.”

  Myles laughed to cover his anxiety. “She’s obviously too good at organizing playdates now,” he said in an attempt to steer away from the building sexual tension in the room.

  It didn’t work.

  Dillon slid his back along the counter so he was facing Myles, just next to the stove. “Is that what this is?” he rasped. He looked down Myles’s body, then back up through his honey-colored lashes. “A playdate?”

  “Uhh,” Myles stammered. It felt like his brain was short-circuiting.

  Dillon grinned and took the wooden spoon from Myles’s hand. He brought the edge of it to his lips and darted his tongue out to taste the tomato sauce. “Hmm,” he said, nodding and handing back the spoon. Their fingers brushed as he did. “You know what this needs?”

  “N-no, actually,” Myles stammered. “Please, it’s terrible. If you’ve got any suggestions, I’d love to hear them.”

  Dillon licked his lips, chasing the last of the sauce from them. “I’d add paprika and crushed red pepper or any kind of chili. Just give it a bit of a kick. And salt and pepper is always a good trick.” He rubbed his lower lip with his thumb. “And it’s not terrible. In fact, I’m sure it’s going to be yummy.”

  Myles didn’t trust himself to speak. He was too busy concentrating on calming the situation in his pants. Dillon had been fun before, but Myles was unprepared for this completely unreserved version of him.

  Myles just stepped away, opening up his herbs and spices cabinet, retrieving the items Dillon had suggested. He handed them over to his guest.

  Dillon crooked half a smile, then began shaking the seasonings into the sauce, stirring with the spoon as he did. Once satisfied, he lifted the spoon to his lips and gave it a taste.

  “Hmm,” he said, a grin blossoming on his face. “I think that’s pretty good. What do you think?”

  He held the wooden spoon out, inviting Myles to try it while Dillon held it for him.

  Nerves fluttered through Myles’s body. He may have been inexperienced, but this seemed like some high-level flirting to him.

  Gingerly, he leaned forward and tasted the amended sauce. He had to say, Dillon’s seasonings had done the trick.

  “Wow, that’s really good,” he said.

  They looked at each other, their gazes locked, their faces not that far apart.

  In fact, they were close enough Myles could just lean in and…

  The timer started beeping. It was a pretty unobtrusive noise ordinarily, but right then it sounded like a siren to Myles. He cursed inwardly.

  “Okay, Google, stop!” he said a little more forcefully than he had meant to.

  Dillon took a step back and rubbed behind his neck. “Does that mean dinner’s ready?” he asked. Myles nodded. “Awesome. I’ll set the table.”

  He made himself at home, rummaging through drawers and cupboards under Myles’s direction as Myles dished up their meals. It was okay he reminded himself. This was just the start of the evening. Who knew where the night was going to take them?

  Maybe even toward that elusive first kiss.

  8

  Dillon

  So far, this wasn’t the most awful idea in the entire history of the world.

  Myles hadn’t freaked out. In fact, they were having a really lovely dinner listening to old rock classics and drinking very nice wine. Sometimes the conversation faltered, but between them, they managed to think of enough topics to keep talking. Slowly, Dillon was getting to know Myles.

  It was feeling more and more like a first date.

  Was that what this was, though? Dillon could have sworn they were about to kiss over by the stove. But the damned timer had gone off and stolen the moment. However, Myles kept smiling at him and laughing at his jokes. He topped up Dillon’s wine without having to be prompted and complimented him a couple of times on ‘saving dinner’ with his seasoning suggestions.

  Dillon was having a great time. He felt warm and fuzzy. But at some point, they had to address the elephant in the room.

  “So…” he said, toying with the stem of his wine glass. They were sitting in Myles’s dining room. His house was so big and fancy he had a dining room. The tabletop was made from glass and gleamed in the low-level lighting. “I still haven’t really explained why I’m here.”

  Myles rubbed his chin and placed his spoon and fork together on his nearly empty plate. Then he took a sip of wine, contemplating the liquid as he swirled it inside the glass. “Do you have to?”

  Dillon thought about what Corinne had said. How she’d been waiting for ‘so long’ and how eager she was for Dillon to pursue Myles if he was interested. He got the impression this was a big deal and he didn’t want to rush anything too hastily.

  “I think so,” he said. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I get the feeling this is all very new to you?” His heart was racing, but Myles wasn’t kicking him out the door just yet.

  “This?” Myles repeated.

  He treated the word with care, not emphasizing it too hard either way. It wasn’t defensive or frightened or confused. It was neutral. He focused on his own fingers, stroking up and down the wine glass stem. If Dillon was honest, the sight was almost painfully erotic. He shifted in his seat and tried to concentrate on the matter at hand.

  “Having a date with another guy,” Dillon said, cutting to the chase.

  He thought Myles might flinch or try and deny it. Instead, he bit his lip and continued looking at his gently moving fingers. “So it is a date,” he said softly.

  “I’d like it to be,” Dillon
said honestly.

  “Really?” Myles asked. He managed to flick his gaze over to Dillon for a second, but then averted it again just as quickly.

  “Yeah,” said Dillon, gaining confidence. “I genuinely wasn’t sure what I was going to do when I got here, but I guess I wanted to test the waters and maybe ask you out. Then we ended up just naturally falling into a date and…well, Myles, it’s been great. Really great. I like you a lot.”

  Myles pulled his lip through his teeth again. “But I’m so much older than you. And Jenny still goes to your school.”

  Dillon’s heart squeezed in a pang of sympathy. “You’re not that much older than me, dude. Honestly, is that what has been holding you back? We’re both still millennials, for Christ’s sake.” Thankfully, that got a laugh out of Myles and Dillon grinned at him. “And as for the teacher thing. I can think of three other members of staff who have dated parents over the past five or six years. Like, it’s not a big deal, so long as the people in question are being discreet.”

  Myles swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Fuck, Dillon wanted to kiss it.

  “Sorry,” Myles said, his voice tight. “Yes, this is new to me. I tried not to admit to this side of myself my whole life, so I married my best friend and had a kid and it was all so…nice. There was no fire. And slowly I just couldn’t keep it all pushed down anymore. I…I’ve never…”

  Dillon stood up and walked behind Myles, leaning down to hug him from behind. Immediately, Myles exhaled and relaxed, reaching up to place his hands over Dillon’s and rest his head against Dillon’s arm.

  “That feels so good,” he said shakily.

  “Agreed,” Dillon said. He nuzzled his nose against Myles’s stubble. “Look, it doesn’t have to be all that complicated. I like you. I’d like to see where this goes. And if that’s something you’re open to, I promise not to take anything too fast.”

  Myles pressed his cheek gently against Dillon’s nose. Without thinking, Dillon placed a chaste kiss just by his cheekbone.

  “I’ve never kissed a man,” Myles said so quietly the music almost covered it up.