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  “Why him?”

  “Why not him? I don’t understand why you dislike him.”

  “I don’t dislike him! Quite the opposite! He’s funny and talented and he kicks me right in the nurturing instinct. You know how much I like taking care of everyone. It doesn’t help that he’s very attractive! It makes me insanely jealous that you want to have sex with him and not with me!”

  “I have never once said I don’t want to have sex with you.”

  “It’s not about what you say,” Kyle pressed. “It’s what you don’t say.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We haven’t done anything in months.”

  “I’ve been on tour.”

  “You’ve been back for weeks.”

  “We saw each other three times last week alone. I don’t keep track of how often we fuck, K.”

  “We haven’t had sex since May. We’ve gotten dinner. Gone to movies. We’ve had group date nights. We’ve slept in the same bed, cuddled, and made out, but we haven’t fucked since May.”

  Jordan’s lips thinned. “You’re right. That is a long time.” He thought for a minute. “What about July. I was home for a week and we—”

  “We took a shower together and you gave me a blow job.” Kyle threw his hands in the air. “Fine, okay, sure. That makes up for everything.”

  “What do you want me to do about it now?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Then...what? I’m not filling your needs so you’re breaking up with me?”

  Kyle’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”

  Jordan stepped back. He knew he was loading the cannon, just asking. Still, he hadn’t expected that response. He sucked in a breath.

  “Just so I’m clear,” he tried to shove down the feeling overwhelming his chest. “You’re breaking up with me even though I followed your rules and in the three years we’ve been together, I’ve only ever been with two other people. We’re breaking up, because you waited five months to tell me, an asexual, that we weren’t having sex enough for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Great. Okay. We’re on the same fuckin’ page then.” Jordan turned away from him. “Fuck!” He kicked a leg of the coffee table. The pile of magazines on it went flying, and it tipped over. He swore again, sucking in a deep breath. His hands shoved into his pockets to keep from picking anything up and throwing it. He released the breath, and strode toward the door.

  A piece of him expected, hoped, Kyle would call him back.

  He didn’t.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I don’t know.” Markus was holding the comic out at arms-length, appreciating it. “I like everything about it. Except the answer.”

  “Are you shipping us too?” Dylan asked dryly. He had taken out his sketch pad after Jordan had left. “Apparently we’re TyLan now. I don’t know why his name has to be first.”

  “I never liked first name combos,” Markus replied. “Norse and Montgomery don’t really blend though. Norse is too short and Montgomery is too long.” He set the comic back down. “So, what was wrong earlier? I’m a good listener too, you know.”

  “He is not,” Jack warned. “He’s a terrible gossip.”

  “I already have enough people gossiping about me,” Dylan informed him. “It wouldn’t be anything new.”

  “Dish then!” Markus took a seat on the floor in front of the coffee table. He balanced his chin on his clasped hands. “JB looked upset too.”

  “He doesn’t like my bluntness,” Dylan informed him. “It makes him uncomfortable. He’s worried I’m going to do something stupid.”

  “I see. ...Are you doing something stupid?”

  “Only if drawing worthless comics is stupid.”

  “My mother would say yes,” Markus offered. “I think they’re the highest form of art.”

  ‘Thanks.”

  “I like the panel where you depict the notes of Dani’s violin stabbing you in the heart. Could I get a print of just that?”

  “What size?”

  “I don’t know. Standard eight-and-a-half by eleven?”

  “Twelve dollars.”

  “Shit! For real? That’s cheap.”

  “That’s what it costs to print on the thickest cardstock they have. If you did delayed printing, it would be cheaper, but I always do Same-Day pick up.”

  “That doesn’t include your cut,” Markus scoffed. “It’s more like...fifty? I could swing that.”

  “Are you going to give it to him? Tyler, I mean.” Jack asked, ignoring Markus. He had taken up occupancy on the other side of the couch. “Or are you going to keep going on what you started?”

  “I don’t know. It was nice to have a project. I liked playing with digital art more. I was reading some comics online, and—” Dylan stopped. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear me geek out.”

  “I do,” Jack assured him. “Go on.”

  “I’m not good at stories,” Dylan continued. “Biographical stuff is easy, but no one wants to read those.”

  “I would,” Markus replied. “I find you fascinating.”

  “That was a little creepy, M,” Jack warned him.

  “I do! You’ve driven one member of Dark Little Town crazy with love. Another is completely jealous of you. A third has the hots for you. I’m also pretty sure Heath mentioned Dani would bang you in a minute. You’ve had torrid encounters since you were a teenager. You’re a rich trust fund baby and your parents let you run wild.”

  “My parents did not let me run wild.” Dylan rolled his eyes. “They left me to make my own decisions. Which is now biting them, and me, in the ass.”

  “You deserted your home town,” Markus continued, “to explore the wilds of Southern California on your own! Where, I’m sure, you wooed boys and broke hearts left and right.”

  “I wasn’t on my own. I had two bodyguards the whole time. The only boys I wooed were also addicts and we fucked around because we couldn’t do drugs.” Dylan’s lead broke as he pressed too hard. He released the pencil, letting it roll down the page and into his lap. “I’ve only broken one heart in my lifetime.”

  “That’s not true,” Jack interrupted. “You’ve broken at least two.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Tyler’s,” he pointed upstairs, “and mine.”

  “Fuck.” Dylan leaned back. “I did. I wasn’t counting you, because we...”

  “It was a long time ago. I’m over it. I’m very happy with Heath.” He rolled his head toward Markus. “The other two are all right.”

  Markus grinned, blowing him a kiss. “Love you too, bae.”

  “What happened that Kyle is mad at Jordan?” Dylan finally asked.

  “Oh shit!” Markus’s hands flattened on the table. “Do you not know?”

  “Know what?”

  “Jordan called to ask if he could have sex with you again, because he wanted to.”

  “What?” Dylan’s eyebrow raised in confusion. Jordan hadn’t mentioned that tidbit.

  “Kyle is upset because he doesn’t think Jordan wants to have sex with him anymore. Apparently, they haven’t done it since May. Now Jordan has asked to do it with you, twice,” Jordan explained.

  Dylan frowned. “By sex, you mean...penetrative, right?”

  “Is there any other kind?” Markus asked, quizzically.

  “Yes,” Dylan answered. “You guys call each other anytime the clothes come off, right? If the clothes are off, whatever happens constitutes sex. Did I not understand that correctly?”

  “Hmm,” Markus pondered, “We never defined that as a group. It’s just what usually happens when K and I have ever gotten naked with someone.”

  “Jordan and I didn’t have sex then,” Dylan clarified. “We made out and I got a blowjob. He jerked himself off after.”

  “T-M-I,” Markus announced, then after a moment of contemplation, continued. “Actually, I liked it. Tell me more. Kyle never tells me anything about being with Jordan. Does he get super sweaty? How big is he? He alwa
ys covers up too quickly when I’ve accidentally walked in on them.”

  “I’m not answering any of that.”

  Markus gave a disgruntled sigh. “He’s not my type. I’m not into other black dudes. He’s nice though. His Moms are the sweetest.”

  “Do you think they’re okay down there?” Jack asked. “They’ve been talking for a long time and we haven’t gotten any texts.”

  Markus picked up his phone. “Maybe they’re fucking. Some of the best sex we’ve ever had has been after a big fight.”

  “They’re fighting?” Dylan asked.

  “Oh yeah. I’m not going to be surprised if I walk back into the apartment to find all those fake succulents that K’s Mom keeps bringing us are broken in the living room. In fact, I hope one of them grabs that ugly toadstool figure too. I hate that thing, but it was a gift from an Auntie.”

  “Fuck.”

  “It’s fine,” Jack assured him. “K and Jordan don’t fight that often. They get into arguments over stupid shit, but they kiss and make-up quickly. Actually, aside from a little thing that blew over in like six hours a few weeks ago, they’ve been solid AF.”

  Dylan wasn’t sure why, but he could feel his chest tightening. He picked up his pencil again, sliding it into the ring of his sketchpad. “I’m going to bed.”

  “For real? It’s eight o’clock.”

  “I know, but I was working on that most of the day and I never took that nap. I’m really tired.” He waited until he was in the hallway before pressing a hand to his chest and forcing himself to breathe more deeply. “Good night, guys. Sorry for the drama.”

  “We’ll be out here for a while if you can’t sleep,” Jack called.

  The bedroom door clicked closed and he sank down to the floor. His eyes squeezed closed as he repeated to himself to breathe. He had no stock in what was happening between Kyle and Jordan. He could only focus on himself and what he could do. Which was breathing. The tightening in his chest increased. His eyes flew open as new thoughts floated into his head. Was this anxiety or was he having a heart attack? He was far too young for a heart attack, right? What were the signs? No numbness in his limbs.

  Just breathe, you stupid fuck. He told himself. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. It’s the same stupid panic attack you’ve had for years.

  The tightening loosened and he felt like a tire was lifted from his chest. He gulped, standing from the floor.

  “Fuck,” he whispered, “why can’t I just be normal?”

  He jumped as a sharp knock sounded on the door. He took another deep breath, trying to wipe any remnants of the panic attack off his face.

  “What’s up? It’s been two minutes. You can’t already miss me.” Dylan’s teasing faltered as he took in Jordan, standing at his door. “You’re back.”

  “You still want to fuck?”

  “Jordan,” Dylan forced out a laugh, “I’m always down, but...”

  “Kyle broke up with me.”

  “Come in.” Dylan dropped the levity. He stepped aside, inviting him into the room.

  Jordan stepped inside, pulling his shirt over his head. “Supplies still in the side table from last time?”

  “Jordan, you don’t really want to do this.” Dylan closed the door, leaning back against it as the other man continued to undress.

  “I’ve wanted to since about thirty seconds after you said it was a possibility again.”

  “It is, but right now? Five minutes after you broke up with your boyfriend?”

  “Look,” Jordan pressed close to him, “normally when I’m pissed off and frustrated, I take it out on Kyle, in bed. I’ve ruined a lot of good t-shirts over the last couple of years.”

  “What?”

  “Do you like this shirt?” Jordan asked, his finger hooking into the neck.

  “Yes. It’s very soft and comfortable.”

  “Pity.”

  Dylan’s palms pressed to his chest. “Think about this. The first thing you want to do after a four-year relationship ends, is have sex with another guy? You? That feels vindictive to me.”

  “He didn’t even talk to me about it.” Jordan stepped away, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “He just yelled at me and blamed me for something I didn’t even know was an issue.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We haven’t had sex since May.”

  “You’ve been touring a lot. That doesn’t seem unusual.”

  “That’s what I said! Apparently, a one-sided shower quickie in July didn’t count.”

  “It’s not like you haven’t seen him. Besides, he’s not with you for the sex, right?”

  “I never thought so.” Jordan fwumped back onto the bed, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “It used to be easy. We got each other. I feel so blindsided by this whole jealousy thing.”

  “You know he’s going to be doubly upset to find out you came here,” Dylan put a hand on his thigh. “I assume Jack and Markus saw you?”

  “I told Markus to go upstairs,” Jordan answered. “Jack let me in.” He leaned up on his elbows. His eyes drifted over him, “Are you okay? You look...I don’t know. Something isn’t right.”

  Dylan moved away from him again, circling the bed to the closet. “Maybe you should put your clothes back on.” He picked Jordan’s shirt up from the floor, tossing it at him.

  “Nuh-uh.” Jordan took his wrist, pulling him back in front of him. “You know where my night went to shit. What happened to yours?”

  “I had a minor panic attack,” Dylan told him. “It’s nothing.”

  Jordan’s arms wrapped around his waist. “Can I do anything?”

  Dylan’s fingers squeezed Jordan’s bare shoulders. “You can go home. I need to sleep.”

  Jordan inhaled deeply. “Okay,” he didn’t let him go as he stood, “if you’re sure.”

  “I’ll give you the same advice you gave me earlier. Give it some time, then talk to him.”

  “I’m sorry I tried to unload on you.”

  “If it had been another day, or time, I would have let you.”

  Jordan pressed his lips to Dylan’s cheek. “You’re a good guy.” He finally released him to pull his shirt back on. He pulled his jeans back over his hips and rebuttoned them. “Talk later?”

  “Later,” Dylan agreed. “After you’ve had a couple of days to deal with all of this.”

  “That seems fair.”

  “You want me to walk you out?” Dylan offered as Jordan continued to stand at the door.

  “No,” Jordan answered. “I just don’t know where to go from here. I don’t want to go back to my place. It’s too late to go to the shop. I could go out somewhere, but I don’t want to be the sad, lonely guy in a bar.”

  “Take a walk down to the bodega,” Dylan suggested. “Get a couple of beers, a pint of ice cream. Then go back to your place. Turn on the shittiest sitcom you can find, eat the ice cream, drink the beer, and go to bed.”

  “Does that work to make you feel better?”

  “No, but it’s better than crawling into bed with your thoughts right away. At least with the beer and ice cream, you’ll have a buzz and treat.”

  Jordan smiled, giving a nod. “I’ll give it a shot. See you later.”

  “Bye.” Dylan took hold of the door as Jordan let himself out. He stepped out of the bedroom to watch the man make his way out of the apartment. A moment later, Jack leaned over the side of the couch after the door had closed behind Jordan.

  “What the hell is happening?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tyler grunted as a shoulder collided with his own in the hallway of Lunchbox Studio.

  “Sorry,” he apologized automatically, “my bad.” He gripped the handle on his guitar case a little more tightly as he realized who he had bumped.

  “Hey.” His ex, Greg Perkins, was in front of him for the first time in months. He rubbed his shoulder. “It’s been a while. How are you?”

  A fucking horrible b
all of stress, fear, angst, hormones, and emotions.

  “I’m fine. How are you?”

  “Good. Actually, I’m glad I ran into you. I’ll be handling your session today.”

  “Where’s Tony?” Tyler held back his groan.

  “He called in with food poisoning,” Greg explained. “I told him I’d fill in, if it was okay with you. Otherwise, we’ll rebook you and—”

  “It’s fine,” Tyler assured him. “It’s really basic. Press record, press stop. No bells and whistles.”

  “Tyler, are you doing something stupid again?” Greg’s question answered Tyler’s unspoken one. He knew. He’d heard. Not surprising.

  “What are you talking about?” He decided to play dumb anyway.

  “I heard all about the mess that TuneTable EP got you into.” Greg crossed his arms over his chest. A blue water bottle dangled from his fingers. “What are you even doing here today?”

  “Not that I need to explain it to you,” Tyler quipped, “but my manager and a lawyer got involved. I’m working with them and TuneTable this time, releasing a second EP.”

  “Uh huh. What’s this one called? Please Answer Me, Dylan Montgomery? Take the air of mystery out of the whole thing.”

  Tyler’s jaw clenched. “I don’t need to explain anything to you.”

  “You’re right. I dumped you. You don’t owe me anything.”

  “Exactly.”

  Greg’s expression softened. “Ty, come on. Seriously? What are you doing?” The look of disappointment made Tyler’s chest squeeze.

  “Maybe it is better if I reschedule my session. I can get an extension fr—”

  “No,” Greg acquiesced, raising his hands in defeat. “I’m being an asshole. I’ll shut up.” He took a step away from him. “We’re down in Studio Three, if you didn’t see the board yet.”

  “I was on my way to check it.”

  “I have to make a quick phone call, but it’s ready to go. Why don’t you go warm up and we’ll get started? You only booked an hour.”

  Tyler nodded. The grip on the case loosened as Greg walked away from him. He held back the curse until the man was out of ear shot. Of all the people the studio employed. Why the hell did it have to be Greg?