Page 60 of Footlights and Forever

He rubbed his chin between his fingertips and mused, “I’m wondering when would have been a good time to make a move, when you were singing along with the radio during the heartbreak hour? When you decided to your own rendition ofAll by myself, just with no music or a tune to be found, or when you finally threw up in my kitchen sink after drinking some very questionable German liquor you found at the back of my drinks cabinet?”

Suddenly the headache felt worse, likely due to the extra pounding of embarrassment now wrapping its fist around my heart and giving it a good old squeeze. The nerves in my fingertips and arms that were, in my opinion, solely there to inform you of a major cringe factor, took full effect, making me want to curl into a ball and explode into dust forever.

“I’m so sorry, Darren,” I grimaced. “I remember not wanting to go home and I needed a friend.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he smiled. “Mainly because you repeated it on a loop last night. Man, you have the memory of a goldfish when you have a couple of Killepitsch inside you.”

I felt the blush spread up from my toes, right the way to the top of my head. “What did I put inside me?”

“Killepitsch,” he laughed. “The German liquor I was telling you about.”

“Oh yeah.” I tried for a smile. “Fun.”

“So, now that we have established that we didn’t fuck like bunnies last night,” he coughed out a laugh, “and by the way, if you ever find yourself single or opening that relationship up, then please let me be the first to know cause I would totally hit that.” His voice took on an almost large feline-like quality, as did the predatory look in his eyes. “But what do you plan to do about Austin?”

I flashed back to a text message I’d sent him telling him not to contact me; I was still hurt, and I wasn’t a hundred percent sure what I wanted to say to Austin. My first instinct when I woke up was that I had overreacted, and maybe I was in the wrong. I had, however, been having some thoughts lately about how I responded to adversity in our relationship. My first instinct was always to protect Austin. My second was to identify how it was my fault. A part of me still felt I was lucky to be with Austin, and that I should count my lucky stars that someone like him was with someone like me. I had spoken to Natalie about these thoughts and had quickly received a sharp, swift punch to my upper arm.

“I don’t want to hear this type of crap from you ever again,” she’d bit out before punching me again. “I don’t care if Austin has abs, or a perfect face or a butt for days. He is the lucky one here.”

“Natalie…”

“No Dylan,” she’d barked insistently. “You are so kind. You are warm and caring. You are so smart and funny. You try to see the good in everyone and you want everyone to know how special they are. You never put yourself first, and I think you are one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.”

“That’s really sweet,” I’d smiled before yelping as she’d punched the same spot once more. “I’m amazing, but I no longer have the use of my left arm,” I’d laughed, rubbing the assaulted site.

Back in the present day I shook my head and shrugged. “I really don’t know Darren, but I know we need to talk.”

“Well then, I best get out your way so you can get dressed.” He winked. “Unless you want me to stay for that?”

“I’ll be fine by myself Darren.” I threw a pillow at him, which he snatched out of the air and placed back on the bed, before shrugging and leaving me to my own devices. After a quickawkward hug goodbye and refusing Darren’s offer for a lift home, I began the thirty-minute walk back to my place.

I pulled my cell from my pocket and switched it back on. It had scared me to do it earlier, not wanting to see the number of missed messages I’d received from Austin the night before. My fear was justified as a slew of notifications popped up on my screen, the trilling sound of the phone alarm playing over and over with each new message.

There were some messages from Natalie, so apparently I would need to smooth things over with her as well. I read her last message which read:

Natalie: I love me a messy drunk Dylan, but do you honestly believe it’s the best idea in a serious, committed relationship to run away from your problems and spend the night at another man’s house? I think that looks kind of bad, you know, dude. Anyway, you know I love you no matter what, so call me.

I pocketed my phone, not wanting to deal with that mess now since I’d already had more than enough relationship drama on the horizon.

A short while later, I opened the front door of our house. Soft music played in the background emanating from the kitchen. Relieved that we could at least get this mess sorted straight away, I began.

“Hey, I’m really sorry for…” I stopped in my tracks. Rather than the familiar shape of my boyfriend, I stared at the wide shirtless back of a heavily muscled, dark-haired mystery man. “Erm, hello?”

He turned around, and I could feel my mood drop as my face fell. “Kyle,” I stated plainly.

“Dylan,” he tried, as pleasantly as Kyle could manage, which was about as pleasant as a cobra waiting to strike some unsuspecting prey.

“Not that I’m not pleased to see you, but what are you doing in my house? Why are you shirtless? And where is Austin?” All very good questions, which I felt he should answer quickly before I lost my shit. I could already feel my pulse spiking and skin temperature rising as I took in his perfect abs and defined chest, and not in a good way. Kyle had the unfortunate luck of having the only aesthetically perfect body I found highly unappealing and irritating.

“Good morning to you too, Dylan,” he smiled, turning back around to take a frying pan off the stove.

“You’re cooking?”

“You’re observant.” He grinned.

“Kyle!”

“Fine, yes, I’m just whipping up some eggs for myself and Austin.” He gestured towards two plates on the counter next to him with toast on them.

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