38. Indy
THIRTY-EIGHT
INDY
Dylan has already found us a table when I make it to the pub.
He’s sitting in a chair, legs stretched out in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other, eyes moving over the people around him.
It’s been a few months since I last saw him because I’ve been in San Francisco and he’s been settling into his life with Adrian here.
He gets up when he sees me, his usual small-but-oh-so-deep Dylan smile in place as he watches me approach.
Once I’m in front of him, he pulls me into a hug and doesn’t let go for a long time.
For the first time in a long while, I let myself relax.
I didn’t even know I remembered how to do that, to be honest. Dylan is one of the few people I let myself be somewhat honest around.
His dark brown hair is longer than it used to be, but his eyes are still the same calm light gray. He’s dressed in a pair of jeans, a blueish-gray T-shirt, and a pair of sneakers, and he looks so settled. So impossibly comfortable in his own skin. Happy in a way he never was in San Francisco.
“Where’s Adrian?” I ask.
“At home.”
I raise my brows at him.
He rolls his eyes. “We’re not that bad.”
I try to hide my grin. “I didn’t say anything. I was just curious.”
“You implied.”
I fail to hide my grin. “How are you two?”
Dylan leans back in his seat and shrugs one shoulder. “I think we found a house?” He squints for a moment. “A house might be generous. A cabin. A small one.”
Based on how well things usually go for me, this new house is probably somewhere on the other side of the world.
Dylan knocks the toe of his sneaker against mine. “It’s in Rockport.”
“I don’t know where that is.”
He laughs softly. “About forty miles away from here. So, not an impossible distance. And even if we end up buying it, it’ll take time to make it livable, which means you can breathe easy. We’re not going anywhere just yet.”
Apparently I’m just that transparent with my feelings.
“Do I get my own room?” I’m only half joking.
“With a view,” he says.
We grin at each other, and he taps the side of his foot against mine under the table.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“Aww. You actually missed me,” I say.
“I’m doing this whole thing where I really appreciate the people I love.”
“Is this what happens when you go through a harrowing, life-threatening ordeal?”
He laughs. “Apparently.”
We order another round of drinks and catch up.
He tells me about random, everyday things, and I get to kick back and forget myself in the details of somebody else’s life.
Adrian has a large family. Dylan has known all of them since he was a kid, and they’ve pretty much adopted him at this point, so he has plenty of things going on in his life to tell me about.
I try to absorb every word and at the same time not get stuck in the past, when things were different, and I wasn’t this. The life of the party, always alone in a crowded room.
Fuck’s sake, I’m mopey today.
By the time we exit the bar, it’s gotten dark, it’s late, and I’m slightly buzzed.
Adrian is standing outside on the street, leaning against the side of his car, watching Dylan approach with a soft smile on his face.
Dylan walks straight into his arms. Adrian murmurs something I can’t hear, and Dylan laughs.
Cuddled against Adrian’s side, he turns his head to look at me.
Adrian lifts his chin in greeting. He doesn’t love having me in his life, but he’s putting in a lot of effort to get over the fact that I’ve seen his boyfriend naked.
“Do you want a ride?” Dylan asks.
I shake my head. “My apartment’s not that far away.”
We wave our goodbyes.
I’ve only walked a few blocks when the skies suddenly open up, and rain starts to pour down. I swear under my breath and yank the collar higher around my neck before breaking into a run toward Haymarket Station.
By the time I make it underground, my sweatshirt is soaked and rainwater is running down my back from my hair.
The platform is packed with damp, miserable-looking people trying to escape the weather. A train screeches into the station a minute later, and I step inside after everybody else.
Just as the doors close, I rake my fingers through my hair and turn around.
I don’t know what makes me look up. A movement outside on the otherwise empty platform. Just a random coincidence.
There’s a man standing there, frozen in place almost in mid-step.
His lips are slightly parted, his dark eyes wide and so painfully familiar.
It’s like getting punched in the lungs.
I blink, and I expect him to disappear. He can’t be here. He’s not supposed to be here. Last I heard he was still in Chicago. It was an overheard comment from a year and a half ago, but that doesn’t change the facts.
He’s not supposed to be here.
All the noise becomes a muted buzz in my ears, leaving only the shaky sound of my own breathing.
The train jolts and starts to move.
It doesn’t take more than a blink, and then he’s gone.
And I’m left with a pounding heart and questions flying through my head.
Was that really him?
How?