Page 49 of Footlights and Forever

“I’m someone who loves romance. I always have loved it. Most people who grew up as nerds, as I was, surprisingly, have loved romance.” — Mindy Kaling

Dylan

The sunlight streamed through the open curtain of my bedroom window, the harsh rays oppressive against my eyelids. I could have sworn that I had closed those curtains the night before. It had taken me a while to fall asleep, my mind running riot with images of Austin and Kevin fucking on every available surface in Kyle’s godforsaken house as the Head Horse-Douche of the AB-pocalypse grinned smugly. Okay, maybe he wouldn’t have watched his brother getting fucked, but I’d painted a fairly vivid torturous visual for myself that I was sticking with.

I sighed deeply and tried to pull the covers over my head, hoping against hope that I’d be able to fall back to sleep and get in a well-earned nap after that exhausting nighttime slumber. The sheets felt heavy and immobile to my efforts.

“Uh, uh, sleepyhead.”

“What the fuck!” My eyes bolted open While my hands did what could only be described as a gay half-karate half-macarena at the sudden voice to my right. I turned my head to see a smiling Austin winking at me, his hands having plucked my wrists out of midair and securing them against his chest.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you babe.” Austin chewed on his bottom lip. My cock, not having heard the memo of his night on the town with the slutty twins, slowly started to perk up at all the hotness he exuded on a regular basis.

“You didn’t,” I mumbled gruffly, pulling my hands sharply from his. I noticed the small frown forming between his eyes at my reaction before he took in a deep breath.

“You’re still mad at me,” he sighed.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” My voice was laced with sarcasm as I threw my legs over the bed and ambled towards the bathroom.

“Babe…”

I threw my hand in the air over my shoulder. “I need to shower and get ready.” I closed the door sharply behind me and turned the jets onto their most scalding setting. I stripped off my nightwear and stepped gingerly into the streaming water. I had never been a fan of a cool shower, instead preferring the pinking of my skin as it warmed under the deep heat of the water. I could almost believe that there was some something therapeutic or cathartic about the water as it cascaded over my skin, clearing away transgressions and upset, leaving behind only a cool calmness in its wake.

Knowing I couldn’t stay there forever, I toweled off and made my way dreamily towards the smell of strong coffee and something else sweet and warm that permeated the air. I collapsed in a happy heap at the table as Austin worked around me, sliding a steaming mug of coffee the color of tar in frontof me along with a round plate that held a cinnamon bun that speared to have been soaked in melted frosting.

“I’ll drink your coffee and eat your baked goods, but this does not mean you’re off the hook.” I peered at him over the rim of the cup as I brought it to my lips and sipped down the bitter nectar.

Holding his hands up in front of him he shook his head. “And I wouldn’t dream of suggesting that.” He took the seat next to me and pulled a piece of bread from the cinnamon roll, slipping it into his mouth.

I growled and pulled the plate towards me possessively.

“I just thought you might like to eat something a little sweeter this morning.”

I reached across the table and snagged a copy of the New Yorker wedged between two porcelain rhino butts that I’d found at a flea market one weekend in Connecticut that I just had to have. I barely got the first page open when Austin’s hand settled between the pages.

“Dylan,” he sighed.

“What?” I shrugged, pulling the magazine from him and resting back against my seat.

“We have to talk about this,” I looked up to see him pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t like it when we fight.”

I closed the magazine and placed it on my lap. “And yet you keep doing things that end with us in a fight.”

I stood abruptly from my chair, the legs scraping across the tiled floor making a sharp sound that hurt my ears. I walked into the living room and took a spot at the end of the couch, opening the magazine once more and resting it over the arm of the sofa. I felt the other end of the sofa dip as he took a seat.

“Listen I’m sorry, okay?”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” I made a clucking sound with the inside of my cheek. “You did nothing wrong. You justwent out with your friend and his brother. Nothing wrong with that.”

“I should have told you that I was going out with the guys, and I should have called you to tell you I got the part.” I felt his feet slide under my leg as he stretched out.

“We’re both grown ass men.” I flipped the page. “We can both do what we want.”

“Dylan, you know that’s not the case.” He wriggled his toes under me. “You are the most important thing in the world to me, and I hate that I upset you in any way.”

I felt my resolve weakening. I heard the reasons in my heart, of why I should stay mad at him, getting dimmer and dimmer in my mind. Was I still pissed? Yes, I would have completely preferred that he finished his audition and immediately told me about it first. Then again, I found myself thinking that that sounded like own ego talking. He’d told his best friend, who in turn had wanted to do something nice for him, like taking him on a night out to celebrate. Shouldn’t I be happy for him? But then there was him.

“I just hate that he was there, and he knew about your news before I did.” The magazine slipped from between my fingers to the carpet on the floor. “I know I am being stupid and overreacting, but I really hate thinking of you two together in the same city, never mind the same party.”

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