Page 27 of Burn It Down

I sit up straighter and plant my hand on the console, whipping my head toward him.

“You’re gay?”

What are the fucking odds?

Oh, I’m so fucked.

Royally fucked.

Like,fucked beyond belieffucked.

Like, if getting fucked was an Olympic sport, I’d be taking home the goldfuckingmedal.

Dylan’s face grows tight. “Should I just go ahead and turn around? We can call this whole thing off if it’s a problem.”

“Dude,no. It’s not a problem. I didn’t mean to make it sound like it was. It was just so…unexpected.” Shit, I need to put him at ease fast, but it’s been a long-ass time since I’ve discussed sexual preferences with another guy and I’ve completely forgotten how to interact with my own kind without sounding like an insensitive douchebag.

The fact that Dylan’s gay is somehow both the best news and the worst news at the same damn time. Oh, how I want to trailmy lips down his throat before kissing him senseless. Hell, I wish I could eventell himthat I want to do that.

But I can’t.

Too much is at stake and regardless of my own feelings, I couldn’t do that to Cora.

“Are the other guys gonna care?” he asks, breaking my heart.

“Absolutely not. Seriously, it’s cool.”

“I mean it’s not like I’m going to go around hitting on them.” I turn to get a good look at Dylan and finally relax when he smirks and keeps talking. “Well, maybe the nerdy firefighter because that sounds kind of hot.”

A snort and a bark of laughter escape from my mouth. “Oh God. Not Phoenix. Either of the others are fine, but not him.”

Joining me in laughter, Dylan flips on his turn signal to take our exit. “Why not? What’s wrong with him?”

“He’d never let the rest of us live it down, that’s what. He gets all the girls already because he’ssoobnoxious that he’s hard to ignore. But his blond hair and green eyes don’t hurt either. Fucker looks like he just stepped out of an Abercrombie ad.”

“Hmm,” Dylan hums beside me.

“What’shmmmean? Oh, at the next light, turn right. We’ll take that until it comes to a T and then turn left.”

Dylan stays quiet beside me, his brows furrowed like he’s deep in thought.

“You going to make me drag it out of you?” I ask, eager to hear what’s going through his mind.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Nah, I was just thinking blonds aren’t really my type.”

Too intrigued and too turned on to care that I’m potentially showing my hand, I ask, “What is your type?”

Suddenly, the air in the car is so thick it’s hard to breathe.

“I, uh, tend to go for guys with dark hair and dark eyes. Not on purpose, that’s just what I’m usually attracted to.” He makesthe turn at the light and we continue down the road with this new information percolating in my brain.

I have dark hair and dark eyes.

“So, do you date often?” I swallow hard, hoping like hell I’m coming across as interested in knowing more about him and not coming across as some ignorant asshole…or worse, a jealous, wanna-be lover.

When he smiles, his brilliant white teeth shine against the backdrop of his caramel skin. His tongue runs slowly across his bottom lip, wetting the pink flesh, distracting the hell out of me. Between his lips and the ring in his nose, it’s a miracle I even see anything past his beautiful face.

“Often? No. If my schedule wasn’t already a challenge to overcome, I’m still definitely the minority in my neighborhood. Plus, I’m picky and there’s not a large culture of extremely masculine men who happen to like other masculine men.”

---