Chapter 3
Dmitri
The second Eric came charging through that door, his presence slammed into me like it always had. All these years separated from him, and somehow, he still has this effect on me.
This crush was a one-sided thing, and I respected that. Besides being my best friend, Eric had been painfully straight in college, and I was comfortable enough in my sexuality to avoid trying to force that path. Nothing good could come of it.
Not that I wasn’t tempted.
For a little while, I really thought he might feel the same way I did. Those last few days before everything fell apart felt like something shifting between us. Something real. I let myself want, but what’s worse is I let myself hope.
Then, out of nowhere, he just… disappeared.
The teasing smiles stopped, and the casual touches vanished.
In their place came cold stares, clipped answers, and this defensive wall I couldn’t get past. One day he was laughing at my dumb jokes; the next he was looking at me like I’d personally ripped his heart straight out of his chest. I kept waiting for him to tell me what I’d done wrong.
I replayed every conversation and every moment, trying to find the exact second I fucked up, but nothing added up.
The last night of normalcy replays in my head like a broken record, though pieces of it are blurry. I remembered the cold air, his warmth against my side, his drunken laugh ringing in my ears.
After that… gaps. Big ones.
He didn’t just distance himself—he cut me out of his life entirely. I chased for months, but eventually I gave him space and stopped pushing. I told myself if he needed time, I’d wait. I’d always wait for him.
He never came back.
Then housing assigned me to be his roommate, and I thought it was life granting me a second chance. Forced proximity happens in movies and books for a reason, after all. This was my chance.
Only it wasn’t.
Six months of living in the same dorm wasn’t the magic cure I’d hoped it might be.
My feelings toward him deepened to the point of obsession.
I stopped going out and spent more time than usual in the dorm room, just waiting for an opportunity to lay eyes on him or attempt a conversation.
Fight for that fleeting curve of his lips I’d become desperate to see again.
But the harder I fell, the more elusive he became. Weeks went by without so much as a glance in my direction, and the divide between us only grew.
He was so gorgeous it was hard to look at him.
An American wet dream with blond hair and hazel eyes that glittered in shades of green when the sunlight hit them.
A square jaw and a strong nose, with a field of freckles across his nose and cheeks.
He was clean shaven back then, but the short beard he sports now works for him.
Like, it really fucking works.
And that body.
Broad shoulders, powerful chest, and beefy legs like you’d expect on a football player. Eric looked strong enough to throw me around, even at my height.
I bet he still could.
The day we graduated, everything changed again. I returned to our dorm room to find it eerily empty, as if all the life had been sucked out of it. Everything he owned had been removed. Every blanket, dish, and fucking pencil stripped like he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
Reality slammed into me like a freight train derailing in my chest, and my heart shattered with the knowledge that I’d never see him again.
I’d never get my answers. The absence weighed me down until I couldn’t breathe.
I was gutted, scraped clean, with nothing left but echoes rattling in the void, and that place he filled has been hollow ever since.
Time has passed, but the emptiness lingers.
Goosebumps dot the damp expanse of his golden skin as he pulls his soaked shirt over his head, and my eyes roam over his broad back. My heart seizes as if no time has passed.
“Rough day, Eric?”
He freezes, preternaturally still for a second that seems to stretch on forever.
Nerves clog my throat as I swallow roughly, my pulse racing as he turns toward me.
Our eyes meet, and for the first time in six years, I’m faced with the only man who ever broke me.
Old scars flare to life as they remember the pain, and I kick myself at the surge of longing that tugs at my core.
God, I never got over him, did I?
He was always the one who got away.
My eyes drift down of their own accord, drinking in the expanse of his body.
Barbells gleam against his rosy nipples, and his chest heaves in heavy breaths.
Water droplets cascade down his stomach and catch on the coarse hairs that form a trail down his torso.
My thumb drags across my bottom lip as I drink him in.
Then a single sentence destroys the magic surrounding him.
“What in the actual fuck are you doing here?” he demands.
There’s such power behind the words that it forces my eyes back to his. Dread washes over me at the fury I find. Those are the same words he shouted at me when I showed up at his dorm room all those years ago.
I wonder if he remembers any of it.
The rest of the band exchanges wild glances at the tension between us, but I can’t bring myself to look away from him.
Dante clears his throat. “Eric, this is Sticks, the friend I was telling you about.”
Eric huffs an unamused laugh and pulls his lip up in a sneer. “Sticks? You’re going by Sticks now? My god, I thought you couldn’t be more insufferable.”
A mixture of embarrassment and budding anger flushes my cheeks. “Blame it on my old band,” I say in an unsteady voice that doesn’t sound like mine. “They thought it was funny, and I guess it stuck.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not fucking calling you Sticks,” he growls.
A small smile tugs at my lips, despite the tension. He’s still a grumpy motherfucker after all these years.
He gives a rough shake of his head, and my sliver of happiness fades. “Actually, I’m not calling you anything. Fuck this.”
He spins on his heel as he yanks his shirt back on and storms toward the door. Unwanted memories invade my mind as I watch him walk away from me.
Again.
The keyboard player, Tai, takes off after Eric, and my blood boils at the realization they might be close. An irrational anger—one I have no right to—surges through my veins like wildfire.
“No,” I snap as my hand shoots out to block his advance.
Tai’s eyes widen as he glances at my palm on his chest, then at my face.
He’s quite a bit shorter than I am, a few inches under six feet.
A high ponytail holds his long, straight black hair, and his almost androgynous face has lifted, sharp cheekbones and a constant stoic expression.
He pulls off a delicate balance of pretty and masculine that not many can.
“Sorry,” I mumble around a wave of embarrassment, retracting my hand. “Eric and I have… a messy history. Let me talk to him.” His eyes get even wider, and I glance back at the others in silent warning to stay back. I don’t wait for a response before I take off after Eric’s retreating figure.
“Did you know those two knew each other?” Tai hisses to Dante, who grunts his denial. Whispers pass between them, but I’m too far away to hear more.
Eric’s hand is on the knob when I close in on him.
“Fuck, Eric, wait,” I say, lunging forward and slamming my palm against the door.
He whirls around as it crashes shut, glaring up at me as I lean closer.
“What the hell, man? It’s been six fucking years since you left without a word, and now you’re running away again? ”
That certainly gets his attention.
“I am not running away,” he argues.
“Sure looks like it to me,” I retort.
“Fuck you, Dmitri.”
He’s the only person alive who can make my name rhyme with ‘I hate you,’ which would honestly be impressive if it didn’t sting so bad. His palms slap against my pecs as he tries to shove me away, but all he does is shift me off balance.
My other hand slams onto the door, caging his head between my arms. “Will you just talk to me?” I plead, my voice coming out rough. “God, nothing has changed at all between us, has it? You run and I chase and we don’t get fucking anywhere.”
“I already told you I’m not running,” he growls. “Now back the fuck up.” His breath brushes against my cheek, and I inhale sharply as I realize I’ve gotten dangerously close to him.
Close enough to see all those freckles that span his face, a constellation of sunlight across his skin.
Close enough to remember just how badly he can hurt me.
Close enough not to care.
Another nervous swallow clicks in my throat. “Promise you won’t run?”
For a second, he just glares, but finally he gives me a single curt nod, and I reluctantly take a step back. The space between us feels insurmountable as he continues to stare, still as angry as he was all those years ago.
“Please just talk to me,” I say, the words on the edge of begging. A smarter man would worry about exposing my desperation, because it only gives him more power to use against me. I might as well load up the chamber with my own ammunition and help him guide the barrel to my temple.
But his fresh rain and sea salt scent scrambles my senses, even as he attempts to murder me with his eyes. The question that’s plagued me all these years rushes to the forefront of my mind, and I have to know the answer.
He watches me like a cornered animal, eyes darting back and forth between mine. I lick my lips nervously, and I’m fully aware of the way he tracks the movement. Frustration bubbles up inside me at his continued silence.
“Come on,” I say softly. “We’re better than this.”
“No,” he says, completely devoid of emotion, “we really aren’t.”
My shoulders droop as I let out another frustrated sigh. “It’s been years, Eric. An entire lifetime.”
“And?”
My temper flares as my palm slams back on the wall with a thud. “Oh, come on!” I shout, my voice echoing through the hallway. “What am I supposed to do? How the fuck am I supposed to make things right?”
“You don’t make it right,” he roars back, catching me off guard before snapping his mouth shut.
He shakes his head from side to side with gritted teeth.
“You don’t get to come in here and act like the victim, and you aren’t supposed to do anything.
You were supposed to be out of my life, but you weaseled your way back in again, didn’t you? ”
“Eric—”
“Stop,” he snaps. “It’s been a long time. I’m over it.”
“Obviously not,” I retort.
He snarls at me again, then glances over my shoulder toward the others. When his eyes meet mine again, they’re nearly combusting, though his voice is steady. “Don’t flatter yourself by thinking I’ve held a grudge for six years. You’ve not crossed my mind once. Not a single fucking time.”
A pang of hurt stabs through my chest, and his smile is triumphant.
“Eric—”
“Stop,” he snaps. “You want to see if you can keep up with this band? Fine. But this arrangement is going to work like our last semester together. I will tolerate you, but we are not friends. You’re not my buddy, and I don’t care about your life.”
“Harsh,” I say, hiking my eyebrow with all the false bravado I can muster.
“I mean it, Sticks. I don’t give two flying fucks about your work at daddy’s company, or your new boyfriend—”
“Single, actually.” I wink, which only infuriates him more.
His cheeks tinge with pink as he shakes his head again. “I don’t fucking care. Can you get that through your thick skull? Don’t care! About any of it… anything to do with you.” His finger jabs at my chest, punctuating every word. “I do not care.”
Ignoring my thrashing pulse, I will my face to remain impassive. “You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
“Good,” he says with a sneer, pushing past me with a hard shoulder check as he walks back toward the others. “Make sure it stays that way.”