Page 6 of Private Exhibit
The boy was gone.
Chapter 3
DEVON ROUNDED the corner and slumped back against the building.
Gods damn it!The night had turned out so amazing—way better than he could have possibly imagined—and then his stupid body had to betray him again.
He'd barely arrived at the club when he ran into Hayden Ross purely by chance. The two of them had only recently met, but they had history that stretched all the way back to their shared birthday. Coincidence or fate? Devon still wasn't sure.
Hayden had explained what they were doing there at the club, then happily agreed to let Devon watch. It was almost perfect. Not exactly what Devon had wanted, but far better than nothing. The scene had been ridiculously hot.
And then there was the man.
Devon bit back a moan as he inwardly cursed.
He looked down at his right arm, hanging uselessly at his side. Devon tried to move it, but it wouldn't budge. He reached across with his left hand and prodded his skin. There was still sensation there, but his muscles refused to cooperate.
Devon sighed. That wasn't even the worst of it. He squirmed where he stood, feeling the wet diaper between his legs.
Just get home, he told himself.You made it outside. Now you just have to get home. That's all you have to think about right now.
But he didn't want to leave. He wanted to go back inside. Right back downstairs, to that cushion on the floor, with the insanely hot man who'd chosen him. Him! Nobody ever chose him. Devon wasn't sexy like Hayden Ross, the boy who'd just married Thomas Pennington in the most unusual—andawesome—way ever. Any time Devon had gone to the club—had gone anywhere, really—people barely spared him a glance.
It was worse once they found out about his condition.
Devon squirmed again.Speaking of that. He risked a glance down at himself. His pants looked dry, so the diaper was holding up. Now, he had to get home before the attacks got worse.
Alright. You can do this. It's only a few blocks. You can make it. Just get home. You don't have to do anything else but that.
Devon took a deep breath, bracing himself, then headed for the intersection.
The walk home went by in a blur, the streetlamps and headlights all streaming together as Devon hurried along, keeping himself focused on his goal.
He wanted to be inside, away from traffic and people. He wanted out of his wet diaper. Hedesperatelywanted a shower, though that was going to be a pain with only one good arm.
One thing at a time, he reminded himself.Just get home. Everything else can wait.
Devon heaved a sigh of relief when he spotted his building. He hurried inside, got on the elevator, and stared at the numbers, watching them count their way up as the car ascended to his floor.
The moment he stepped inside his apartment, he shoved the door shut behind himself and collapsed.
“Holy shit,” Oliver gasped. “Dev?”
Rapid footsteps thundered across the apartment. Devon looked up just in time to see Oliver sliding to a stop before crouching down over him.
“Dev?” Oliver repeated.
“I'm alright,” Devon gasped as he flopped over onto his back. He was tempted to brace his shoes against the door, keeping the rest of the world at bay, but that would leave dirty prints behind that he'd have to clean off. Devon grumbled. “I'm alright.”
“Where is it now?” Oliver asked.
Devon gestured. “My arm. And…” He knew he wouldn't have to say it for Oliver to understand.
Oliver gave his shoulder a squeeze. “You need help?”
Devon shook his head. “I just need a minute.”
Oliver nodded, then got up to lock the door before stretching out beside him.
