Page 41 of Spring Breakup
To hell with it. If Tyler got mad, he got mad.
“Maybe it’s not your feelings you can’t trust. Having a bulleted list of traits that makes you compatible with another man doesn’t come from your heart. It comes from your head.”
“You think I can’t trust my head?” Tyler said suspiciously, which made sense. His brain was probably the thing Tyler trusted most in the world.
“I think you need to trust your gut every once in a while too.”
“I ignored red flags,” Tyler blurted.
“Like what?”
“He laughed when people got hurt, like online videos of prat falls. Once, early on, I stubbed my toe. It hurt, and reflexive tears filled my eyes. And he laughed. I must have looked funny, sort of hopping around on one foot, but that’s a dick thing to do.”
Dean rubbed the arch of Tyler’s food and caressed every precious toe. “It is. No one should laugh at you when you’re hurting.”
“I hated kissing him. It wasn’t terrible. It was adequate. But no spark.” Tyler swanned into Dean’s space and straddled him.
“Spark should be nonnegotiable.” Dean grabbed Tyler’s hipbones. “Kiss me. I’ll demonstrate.”
Tyler bit Dean’s top lip playfully, and Dean dug his fingertips into Tyler’s skin.
“Careful, Tyler. Push me and I’ll fuck you right out here. Show you what real chemistry feels like.”
Tyler’s smile was huge and bright. They touched and kissed, moving deeper into the water to stay warm. The temperature had dropped, and frost glittered in the branches of the log pole pines around them. Their breath was visible in the cold air, mixing with the steam, as their gasps got harder, as Tyler rode Dean through their swim trunks.
“You lovebirds want any jerky?”
Tyler jerked away from Dean. He about tumbled backward into the water, but Dean caught him. They both turned toward the voice that had come from the woods.
Sarg’s big dog, Iceworm, barreled onto the porch and stuck his head over the side of the hot tub, lapping up some water.
“I made it myself,” Sarg said as if he hadn’t just interrupted a very nice makeout session. He held up a crinkled plastic baggy of jerky.
“What kind of jerky?” Tyler asked, his voice so suspicious it made Dean smile.
“Moose.”
“Ah. No thanks,” Tyler said.
Dean nudged him playfully. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” He held out his hand. Sarg, wearing snowshoes this time instead of skis, expertly kicked them off and hopped up onto the porch. He held open the baggy, and Dean picked out a small piece.
It tasted gamier than beef jerky but wasn’t bad.
“It’s good,” he said.
A bashful smile crossed Sarg’s face. “I came to see if you needed any entertainment, but you’re entertaining yourselves well enough.”
Dean felt the possibility rearing up, a tiny pinch of potential between the three of them. Tyler had brought up threesomes before. Maybe this was his chance to experiment.
“You can join us,” Dean said.
Sarg glanced at Tyler for permission
“Oh, uh, okay,” Tyler said, flustered. “If you want. We were just talking.”
Dean laughed at that, and Sarg did too. He seemed younger when he laughed. Dean suspected Sarg would look like a baby-faced boy-bander without the huge beard.
“What’s so funny?” Tyler asked.
