Page 16 of Truth or Spare

“Enjoy those stars, Theo.”

Dewey left, but he still lingered. The low, deep rumble of his voice echoed in the little alley and Theo missed the warmth of his embrace and his dry humor. It was hard to tell, but Theo was beginning to suspect that Deweymightlike him.

He was obviously curious and had attempted to interrogate Theo with his beer and enthralling company. Theo regretted not coming clean and telling Dewey the truth. He felt like a creep for omitting that Leo was a prince and that their cousin, Maximillian, had fully restored the family’s reputation and finances after their parents had died.

But Theo didn’t want to lose what little trust and respect he had gained. Dewey was just starting to like and accept him. A bond was forming and Theo was honored to be Dewey’s first queer friend and to share whatever insight he had gained. For a man like Dewey in a town like Oslo, having even a tiny community to connect with could make a momentous difference.

Theo was aware enough to accept that he wasn’t the ideal bowling alley employee—yet—but he could be an amazing friend and help Dewey in other important ways. He would start by being as openly and obviously queer as possible so that everyone knew that Dewey wasn’t alone and that there was a big, gay world outside of Oslo, New York. And Theo would prove that Dewey wasn’t a nobody who ran a bowling alley, but a desirable, successful bear of a man who deserved to be happy withwhomeverhe pleased.

“Pillepalle,” Theo predicted with a firm nod.

There was also the matter of Dewey’s possible alcohol addiction. It seemed very unlikely that Cassie and Bryce hadn’tnoticed if Theo had picked up on Dewey’s problem in just a few days. Others around Dewey might have noticed as well but were waiting for the right moment or reason. Perhaps, Theo was meant to be the impetus they needed to finally confront Dewey and help him on his journey to recovery.

By being Dewey’s queer cheerleader, Theo could help him find more of his queer identity and get the help he needed with his alcohol addiction. There was a good chance his alcoholism was related to the lack of support Dewey received from his friends and community. Theo was happy to be the conduit for that support and had seen how much of a difference that made when coping with addiction.

The only real challenge, as far as Theo could tell, would be to keep his hands to himself and his dick in his pants. Because Dewey truly was a desirable, successful,sexybear of a man with a voice like velvet. Who deserved to behappy.

Theo sensed that he could do a lot of damage if he wasn’t careful with Dewey. Unlike Theo, Dewey’s roots were firmly planted in Oslo and he was guided by his nobler principles. Duty, loyalty, dedication, sacrifice… He lived with those values every day and would logically crave that in a relationship. Whereas, Theo had always reserved that kind of duty, loyalty, and dedication for his brothers and they were the only ones he’d ever considered sacrificing himself for.

Those ironclad principles were like catnip for Theo, he was finding, and it was hard to ignore how large and sexy Dewey was. And those blushes and flustered mumbles suggested that there was a great deal to explore and that Dewey was hiding all sorts of delicious surprises beneath his cranky, stoic facade. Nothing turned Theo on more than honesty and curiosity and there was so much he could teach Dewey.

Theo got dizzy, just imagining all the arousing possibilities a large, blank, and willing canvas like Dewey could present for the right man.

“Not so pillepalle,” he admitted in a frustrated groan. He decided it was better to call it a night as well, instead of drinking terrible beer and dwelling on all the things he should never, ever do with Dewey Brooks.

Chapter Eight

Garth Brooks seemed like a decent enough guy, but Dewey wanted to pop him in the eye for ruining a perfectly good evening. Dewey had been on a roll and was learning all kinds of interesting things about Theo until some jackass drove by with his stereo blasting.

Now, “Friends In Low Places” played on a loop in Dewey’s head and he was still dancing with Theo in the alley two days later.

“I don’t even like dancing,” he complained as he replaced the keypad on 5.

It had been out of order for over a week and Dewey was lucky enough to snag a new one on eBay for cheap. The last league night had been chaotic with one less lane and superstitious bowlers who swore the world would end if they deviated from their routines.

“Don’t recall asking you,” Keith said as he watched over Dewey’s shoulder.

Dewey swatted him away and pointed at 6. “Stay on your lane,” he ordered with a threatening glare.

“Alright, alright!” There was a soft chuckle as Keith picked up his ball and waited for the pins to lower. “Bet you wouldn’t minddancing with that fancy Frenchie you hired,” he said and nodded at the side door.

Theo had excused himself fifteen minutes earlier, claiming he needed to change for league night. Into what, Dewey wasn’t sure, but he would send Theo right back to the Winnie if he showed up in a tie again. His customers might like it but Dewey would be damned before he wore a tie to work. That was half the point and one of the best parts about owning and operating a bowling alley.

“He isn’t French, he’s Austrian. And I don’t want to dance with you or Theo. I don’t like dancing,” he repeated and turned when the side door opened and Keith whistled loudly.

“What’s the difference?” he asked and laughed as he raised his ball.

Dewey wasn’t listening, too distracted—enchanted—as Theo strode toward them. He was dressed in a hot pink and navy bowling shirt, dark brown trousers, and rental shoes. His hair was a masterpiece and a bouquet of alluring scents wafted from him, making Dewey dizzy as Theo turned in front of him.

Enchanted? A bouquet of alluring scents?

Was Dewey’s brain in one of the gutters? Why did he hear “Friends In Low Places” again when he’d put on Elvis for the blue hairs?

He tugged on his ear and squeezed his eyes shut. Theo was still there when Dewey opened them, dressed in his version of bowling couture as Elvis sang “Teddy Bear.”

“My first league night! How do I look?” Theo asked, sliding a hand into the pocket of his trousers and halting like he was at the end of a runway.

“Like a neon nitwit on his way to the fruit parade,” Keith muttered from 6 but Theo tipped his chin back.

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