Page 83 of Unstitch

‘I could never hate you, and I could never have asked for you to be more perfect than you are. You did nothing wrong. I’m a grown man, and my reaction to Max wasn’t anything to do with you. I’m still kicking myself for walking out and not looking after your needs properly, and he quite rightly had a go at me for that.’

I twist my mouth at his reference to Monday, because all the spiralling I’ve done over his perceived rejection of me morphed into pretty full-on obsessing over his and Max’s dynamic once I heard what had happened between them. And get this—I haven’t even had major details from Max.

It’s almost like what went down is too sacred for him to divulge, even with me. And while I’m pleasantly surprised that Max has that much respect for Dex, and for whatever dynamic is between them, it scares the shit out of me, too.

Because Max and I are great together.

Dex and I are great together.

But I can’t compete with the kind of forbidden fruit Max may well represent to Dex or with the extreme challenge Dex clearly is to Max.

Dex is that guy. I don’t have to have known him long to understand that. It’s so obvious he’s the one everyone would have fallen for at school. At uni. In New York. He’s so staggeringly beautiful, so anguished and soulful and mysterious.

He’s the guy you lose your heart to.

And while I accept his apology, and I truly believe he didn’t mean to hurt me, I know exactly how capable he would be of unconsciously hurting anyone who got close to him if they let him.

Because he’s quite simply devastating, even if he has no fucking clue.

Especially because he has no fucking clue.

So I stand here, and I gaze at him, my heart hurting, and I wonder how someone as sweet and genuine as him can be potentially so lethal.

‘Say something,’ he pleads, and I shake my head like I’m scared to let it all out.

‘Where does all this leave me?’ I ask, which is the bottom line, really. I could ask him how he feels about getting seriously intimate with Max. I could ask him if he’s any closer to figuring out his sexuality or admitting truths about himself. But I’m wrung out from my performance, and I’m wrung out just from seeing him, to be honest, and I don’t have the energy to be anything other than self-serving right now.

‘That depends on you,’ he says, releasing me so he can reach over and grab my big fluffy robe. ‘Here, you’re getting cold. Put this on.’ He drapes the robe around me and ties it for me, and says, ‘You being warm is more important than me getting an eyeful,’ and his grin as he says it is so damn sweet.

I love that he noticed I was cold, and I like that he’s put my robe on me, because it makes me feel less vulnerable.

‘What do you mean, it depends on me?’

‘I mean the ball’s in your court. I know it might not be clear from my abysmal behaviour, but I am very, very into you. I didn’t walk in here last week thinking I had the remotest chance with you—I thought Max well and truly had his claws into you. But I was all in as soon as he told me you were interested.’ He gives a little laugh. ‘I’m honestly not sure I’ve ever wanted anyone as much as I wanted you the other night, or as much as I want you right now.’

I suspect that’s a half-truth. I suspect he hasn’t wanted any other women as much as me. There’s no way I can compete with Max in this moment, but maybe it’s not a competition. Maybe Dex isn’t thinking about choosing right now. To be honest, I don’t want to raise it. I don’t want to force his hand. I just want him to kiss me.

‘I want you just as much,’ I whisper, and he dips his face to mine and brushes his perfect, perfect mouth over my lips.

‘Is it okay to kiss you?’ he asks. ‘Without Max here, I mean?’

Is he for fucking real? ‘I don’t recall him speed-dialling me before he wrapped his mouth around your dick,’ I retort a little more feistily than I mean to, and he recoils.

‘Fuck. I never thought about that. Not for one second. He was so—it was so intense, and I was so busy obsessing over how I was betraying myself that it never occurred to me we were betraying you.’

Well, that’s wrong on so many levels I barely know where to start.

‘Max and I aren’t like that,’ I tell him. ‘We’re not super formal. We’re just… fucking.’

He frowns. ‘But you’ve spent every night with him recently, haven’t you?’

Yeah. I suppose I have. I shrug. ‘What I mean is we haven’t had that conversation. So it’s fine. He can blow you and I can kiss you. It’s all good. But it makes me sad when you say you felt you were betraying yourself. That’s awful, Dex. Did you not enjoy it?’

He does that unhappy little laugh again, rubbing my back through my robe. ‘I enjoyed it so much my soul left my body.’

‘Well then,’ I say softly, ‘maybe that means you were finally honouring yourself. What do you think?’

He groans. ‘I think I have so much work to do on myself it terrifies me.’

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