“I’m not the one he was yelling at.” Sam laid a hand on Ian’s chest. “And I’ve rested enough.”
God, they were having a moment in the aftermath of Tierney’s very different kind of moment, and all Dalton could do was stand here watching them. “I should go.”
Ian nodded, not even bothering to look at him. “Probably.”
Sam whacked his boyfriend on the shoulder, then said to Dalton, “This is such a surreal way to begin a friendship, isn’t it?”
Uh, yeah. “Totally.”
If you sit here any longer, I will kick your ass, Tierney threatened himself. But it didn’t do any good. Five minutes later, he was still on the curb in front of Ian’s house, staring between his knees at the asphalt. The only difference now was that his butt was cold and it was a little closer to sunset. Fucking October.
He really should get the hell away from this place. The emotions he kept locked down inside him were staging a riot, and he needed to get out of the public eye before one of the inmates got control and caused problems.
Well, more problems. Life would be easier if he didn’t have to live through it in his own skin.
He hadn’t even managed to tell Ian about his grandfather’s death. But seriously, he’d had to convince Ian to not out him first. After what went down with Sam and the bashing the other night, he’d thought the dude would be more understanding. Ian’s assurance that Sam was the only one who knew didn’t fill Tierney with confidence. He knew how shit happened—Sam would share it with just one person, who’d just share with one person, and so on. Before long, everyone would know. Ian had apologized, but then he’d come up with some crap about Sam having already figured it out.
No one could just guess Tierney was gay. Ian had to have told him.
They’d argued about it until Tierney couldn’t listen to Sam’s name one more time and he lost it. He might have said some stuff that was a little over the top after that. When his anger took control, it tended to make him talk trash, usually trash he couldn’t remember very well later.
“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, running his hands across his face and gripping his hair.
“Are you all right?”
He didn’t need to lift his head; he knew it was the guy from Ian’s office. Dalton. “Uh, nooo.”
The dude’s footsteps came closer. “Can I do anything to help?”
Suck me off? “I doubt it.”
Dalton didn’t go away. He stood there a few more seconds before saying, “If you need to talk, we could go get coffee or something.”
Tierney jerked his head up. “Are you always this annoying?” Persistent fucker.
Dalton didn’t react the way Tierney’d expected—hoped, possibly. Oh, the guy got pissed, nostrils flaring and looking down his nose at Tierney, but he didn’t try to flay him with words like Tierney would have. He simply said, “Probably.”
“The last thing I need is some amateur head shrink, dude. What, you got an A in Psych 101 so now you’ve got mad skills?” See? The flaying with words.
Dalton arched his brows and crossed his arms over his chest, but he still didn’t leave. It gave Tierney a chance to really study him. The dude was no Ian, but he had definite appeal. A slim but not skinny body that Tierney bet was nicely toned under that hoodie. He could see the swell of biceps just stretching Dalton’s sweatshirt. I’d let him blow me.
He was on his feet before he realized where his mind had gone. Maybe something would work out tonight. Dude probably already knew Tierney was gay—he’d bet Dalton was Sam’s one person. May as well get the most out of this queer clusterfuck.
“I’m sorry for being a dick. Let me buy you a drink to make up for it?” As he said it, panic reared up. We don’t do this. Try to pick up guys. It was strictly outside the boundaries he’d set when he’d started playing the role expected of him.
Shut up. Grandfather’s dead, and we’ve just never done it before. Until now, he’d been strictly restroom.
Dalton narrowed his eyes, until Tierney almost couldn’t see their blue color in the shadows. “I don’t drink much.”
“It’s okay, I can drink enough for both of us.” Smooth. You the man.
“Well, that makes your invitation very appealing.” Dalton shoved his bangs off his forehead, but they fell back within a second, flopping over his brow. How could such a blond guy have such dark lashes? Even in the dusk, his hair was so bright it almost glowed. His cheeks had little spots of color—Tierney had really annoyed him, hadn’t he?
Sweet. He could work with that because he was the man. Time to kick the remorse into a higher gear. “I overreacted.”
Dalton huffed. “Are you talking about out here with me, or in there with Ian? And Sam?”
Tierney’s stomach seized up but otherwise he ignored the reference to his friend and his friend’s lover. “If you’d rather get coffee, I can do that instead.”
Finally Dalton met his eyes again, tightening his lips but giving him a brow lift. “I’m offering you a chance to talk if you want—or not, if you don’t—not an opportunity to fuck me.”
Sam had told him. He had to unclench his fist in order to keep his voice relaxed. “Who said anything about hooking up?”
Dalton’s lip curled. “You’re far more obvious than you think.”
“You’re pretty fucking obvious yourself. You flame almost as brightly as Sam. What’s it like to be a stereotype?”
Before he could blink, Dalton was right up in Tierney’s face, and yes, he was a couple inches shorter, but Tierney still found himself intimidated. And invigorated, because anger was seductive, and Dalton was much more than Tierney had originally thought, and he had those eyes and his hair was sexy with the long-in-front-and-short-in-back thing. What would his bangs feel like brushing across Tierney’s naked skin?
Get a grip. He stepped toward the guy, until they nearly touched, like he’d fallen into Dalton’s gravitational field. I’d love to orbit you, baby.
Dalton didn’t back down, jaw set, eyes flashing in the twilight, and voice too controlled. “Mister Terrebonne. I get that you’re a closet case—”
“I knew Sam couldn’t keep that to himself!”
Dalton ignored him, even though Tierney had nearly yelled down his throat. “I even get that you’re scared, but I will not be a handy punching bag for your existential distress, and I won’t apologize for being who I am. I’ve been there and done that, which is more than you can say.”