Page 18 of Spring Breakup
“I asked about your breakup.”
“It’s not that interesting. Viggo wanted me to be a different man than I am. We parted amicably because neither one of us cared that much.”
“A year is a long time to spend together if you don’t care.”
“That’s true.”
“Is that common for you?”
“What?” Dean asked. “Caring?”
“Not caring.”
“Busted.” Dean sat forward, and Tyler realized how very close they were in the small sauna. “Why did you and your man break up?”
“He’s not my man.” It was humiliating to think about his relationship with Francis. Tyler had been such a fool.
“Noted. So tell me why?”
“He…” Tyler picked at the hem of his T-shirt. Dean’s focus was too intense. “He stole from me. Drained my emergency fund.” Granted, Francis had paid it back via a loan from his parents, but Tyler wasn’t sure he would have done so if he hadn’t gotten caught. It had been violating and made Tyler feel vulnerable in a way he’d never experienced. Realizing he was such a bad read of character had turned his world upside down.
Silence dragged out between them. A trickle of sweat rolled down his spine, and he twitched.
A hand landed on his knee. Tyler jumped.
“That sucks. I’m sorry,” Dean said.
“Thanks. And no one should want you to be different than you are, Dean.” Tyler needed to bring the conversation back around to Dean and take the scrutiny off himself.
Dean’s expression seemed to tell a whole epic poem in less than ten seconds, but Tyler didn’t comprehend a word of it.
“Leo says I don’t let people in,” Dean said finally. “It’s probably true. Or maybe people expect depth from me when I’m actually quite shallow.”
Tyler smiled. “It’s your face. It looks contemplative like a poet’s.”
“Is that a compliment?” Dean asked, a bit of teasing in his voice.
“No. Have you ever met a poet? They’re soardent.”
Dean laughed. “Artists are the same. Leo is—” Dean shook his head, and Tyler wanted Dean to finish that sentence so badly. “Leo has so manyfeelings.”
“Feelings are the worst.”
“They really are.”
Laughter bubbled up in Tyler’s chest, but he shoved it down. “Fuck feelings.”
“For real. Fuck relationships. Fuck expectations, and fuck—”
“Thieves.”
“Well, that’s obvious,” Dean said. He moved onto the bench beside Tyler, and Tyler’s pulse went haywire.
“Fuck avalanches,” Tyler said, his mouth dry. It was so hot in the sauna.
“Yes, that. Fuck Alaska.”
“Agreed. It’s too pretty.” Tyler was breathless. Maybe it was heat stroke. “It’s pretty, and it tried to kill us.”
