Chapter 2
It had been ten days since Dylan had last seen or spoken to Jared.
After their heavy mouth-to-mouth on the sofa, just like he’d suggested, Jared had left early the next morning. Dylan had no idea if Jared even slept, because when he woke up at five to pee, he was already gone.
A part of him felt relieved. Having to face Jared wasn’t something he was looking forward to. But the green dot beside Jared’s name on the chat platform meant he was back from his holiday, working remotely.
Tomorrow, it’ll be inevitable.
Dylan had fucked up. He was aware. While he hadn’t forced Jared to do anything, taking that first step and inviting him to cheat on his partner had been a low blow.
Look, he wasn’t a conceited bastard who thought everyone was crazy about him.
He was usually pretty oblivious to that, especially when he wasn’t interested in a person, but he knew Jared liked him.
There was something in the way he looked and smiled at him.
Dylan simply knew. It was like a superpower.
However, no matter how sexually active he was, Dylan was so tired of every dude he’d met wanting him to top he had lost interest in even trying.
And when it came to women, well, most of the ones he’d hooked up with weren’t into pegging.
Not to mention his lack of emotional connection with everyone he’d slept with over the past few years.
So now he was just going with the flow, navigating this half-assed life while doing what felt right for him. Didn’t give a flying fuck if it meant he’d become the male version of a crazy cat lady.
The world not-so-subtly and constantly tells us that by the age of thirty, we should have our lives figured out—be gorgeous, have the perfect job, get married, own a house with a white picket fence, have kids—like that was the only way to achieve true happiness.
But, in Dylan’s opinion, that was precisely why so many people ended up trapped in empty or toxic relationships. They weren’t seeking a soulmate, just someone to tick all the boxes off that list, afraid of being alone.
What’s wrong with taking time to cultivate yourself instead of feeling the need to get attached to just anyone?
Isn’t it better to be single and content than taken and miserable?
Sure, humans are social creatures, but nowhere in the stars is it written that having a partner is something we have to do. It shouldn’t be the ultimate goal.
Dylan was in shape, had a place he could call his own, and a job he loved, but he was thirty-seven and quite far from starting any sort of family. Should he have felt incomplete because he had no significant other?
He considered himself a romantic fucker.
Loved having someone to take care of, someone he could spoil to death, and wake up beside every day.
Yet he couldn’t help being cynical about society’s whole concept of a fairytale happily ever after, where everything is rainbows and butterflies. That was bullshit.
Though maybe his last girlfriend breaking his heart and taking off to live on the other side of the planet had something to do with it. Since then, he hadn’t felt confident enough to open up to anyone. Even when he’d tried, he had failed.
Then he met Jared.
Coworker.
Colleague.
Tempting piece of candy.
Dylan wasn’t in love, he didn’t even remember what that felt like, but it would be a lie to say he didn’t want a bite. Jared’s dreamy brown eyes, dark sense of humor, and that cheeky smile full of naughty promises, made him feel rejuvenated.
But Jared had been dating Paul for six years, and Dylan was no homewrecker. Much less when he knew nothing would grow out of a sweaty and dirty moment between them.
Still, that night at his house, they both lost and found themselves in each other.
Their kiss confirmed the desire wasn’t one-sided, and now he couldn’t think about anything else—the way their bodies had rocked, desperately seeking more contact, the anticipation creeping into his bones.
Dylan’s reminiscing was cut short when Penny, one of the company’s translators, popped up beside Dylan like a mushroom.
She waved at him, grinning from ear to ear.
Fuck. He mentally laughed like a maniac, crossing and uncrossing his legs uncomfortably. His dick had gotten a little too excited thinking about Jared.
“What was that again?” he asked, taking his headphones off one ear.
“Break? I’m hungry and don’t wanna go to the cafeteria alone.”
Dylan frowned, looking at his screen. As if he wasn’t already on a tight deadline to deliver this piece of code, his brain had been unplugged longer than he cared to admit.
Great, fucking great.
His stomach twisted, and a jolt of pain shot through his temple. He’d been feeling wishy-washy all morning, and the added pressure of this realization didn’t make it any better.
“I know you’re busy and all, but you look like you could use a break,” she insisted, tucking a curly strand behind her ear.
Dylan considered her offer. Getting out of the office for a while could help him refocus, but he also didn’t feel like putting on the cheerful mask he wore here all the time. He just wanted to be left alone with his moodiness.
“He definitely could,” Cora, the 3D designer sitting to his right, said, her eyes fixed on whatever monster she was creating. “He’s been glaring at his screen for hours.”
“Then it’s settled. Come on, big boy.”
Penny smiled as Cora dropped her digital pen and stood up. Dylan internally groaned, reluctantly following them.
On their way to the lift, Penny and Cora chatted about the weekend, but he didn’t pay much attention to the conversation. He was too busy scrolling through Jared’s photos on social media—the guy was ridiculously talented with a camera.
“Morning guys, just your usual?” the blonde at the coffee stand asked.
“Yes, please.” Cora smiled at her.
“Coming right up.”
“So…” She turned to face Dylan, “What’s crawled up your butt today?” Locked on their target, her hazel irises shone with determination. Seriously, she was always sharp and ready, like a damn Eurofighter.
“What are you talking about?” Dylan wondered, sensing Penny beside him watching them as if she were at a tennis match.
“I don’t wanna pry, but you’ve been utterly silent today.”
“I’m just feeling a little weird. I think I’m coming down with something.”
“Stay away, then.” Penny crossed both index fingers in front of her. “I can’t get sick now.”
Dylan rolled his eyes, chuckling. “It’s probably just fatigue from not having rested properly in months.”
Outside of his normal day job, he also tattooed at a friend’s parlor on the weekends. Despite being good extra money, the endless hours there were grueling.
“If you don’t wanna tell us, it’s okay, but don’t lie.” Cora offered him a knowing look.
“Seriously, nothing happened.”
“Did you have a fight with your girlfriend?” she asked.
“What girlfriend?”
“The chick from the language app.”
“Who?”
“The one who was teaching you French. I hear people get pretty flirty on there, even if that’s not the purpose of the app…” A cheeky smile spread across Cora’s face.
“Wait, weren’t you dating someone from the gym?” Penny said, blinking several times in confusion. “I’m lost.”
“I’m not dating anyone. I just have friends I hook up with sometimes.”
“You, my secretive and mysterious friend, are a man-whore.” Cora laughed, covering her mouth with her palm. She wasn’t the type to curse a lot.
“That I am.” Dylan smirked and shrugged in agreement.
“Okay, here you go. Three lattes, one with sugar.” The barista slid their coffees across the counter, interrupting the conversation.
“Thanks,” Penny told her while they paid. “Have a good day.”
Penny and Cora engrossed themselves in conversation while they snaked through the tables, looking for a spot to sit. Dylan sighed, hating how busy this place was. And that it was Monday. He hated Mondays. Especially this one because the turmoil spiraling in his head didn’t seem to find an end.
Jared could have said no or pushed him away.
But he hadn’t. In fact, he’d coaxed Dylan for more, as if having their tongues tangled while they dry-humped wasn’t enough.
His hands were greedy and his hips eager to fuck and be fucked.
Dylan had pictured both scenarios several times since that night—they always ended up covered in cum.
Jared was young, way younger than any of his previous conquests, yet his powerful energy had made Dylan forget the age difference that separated them for a sweet, sinful moment.
Twelve.
Twelve. It echoed.
Being friends was not an issue, but thinking about all the things he’d do to him if given the chance felt so damn wrong. So why, then, did it feel so good when they’d touched?
His rib cage shrank.
Dylan was a mess.
It was so bad that he was feeling like letting it all out for the first time in years.
But he had no one to talk about it with.
Most of his female friends weren’t only friends, so he didn’t share this type of stuff with them.
And his male colleagues rarely ever got sentimental, unless it was a real life or death situation.
“Dylan.”
“Hm?” he mindlessly asked as he sipped from his coffee.
“Dylan, what’s wrong?” Penny asked, concern written all over her face. “I know you don’t like to talk about your personal life, but we’re worried.”
Dylan looked at her, then at Cora. He had known them for five years and they had always been there for him.
Even when he didn’t want to talk, they were there, offering chocolate and sending memes, or videos of people falling in the stupidest ways, just to make him laugh.
So maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he opened up to them?
“I fucked up.”
“What do you mean?” Cora asked, cautiously looking at him over the rim of her cup.
Dylan took a deep breath. “I don’t only like women, but men too.”
“Okay... and?” Cora said like it wasn’t a big deal.