Chapter Five

I'd checked my watch for the millionth time that day and was grateful when it read three-fifteen, finally breathing in since the day had crawled by. I could feel my blood buzzing in my veins. It was my cells holding their own riotous protest at me trying to convince myself to leave Dylan alone.

Not effing likely.

Even now I was headed towards Romeo's to check on Spotty, where his new owner would finally look the victim in the eyes. From what I've seen, Dylan did have a conscience, he was like a child, who wouldn’t steal candy if you were looking but would try his luck if you didn’t keep an eye on him. I couldn’t stop the fond thought from entering my mind somehow, and I realised that I was justifying him.

I knew he was just an asshole that acts out, probably a reflex from his earlier days. I could see it. Parental neglect, teen acts out for attention, comes into the family wealth at eighteen, inherits his position, seeks to please uncaring parents – failing despite attempts, and voila huge douche pants. Got you all figured out Mr. Ryman – no different from all the other rich pricks.

Then I also had my mother to worry about. She had come all the way from Maine for a reason. As committed as she was to set me up with someone, no one leaves Maine and travels to Tennessee for that. Unless she really was as bat-shit crazy as I always thought. Whatever it was, my mom wouldn't tell me until she felt ready. She had found my porn stash when I was in junior year and waited until I graduated to say anything about it. If anyone could keep a secret she could. She had never told my dad, leaving me to do it my own way. I had never wondered why she didn't before now, but... it was a little freaky how she can be sometimes. I hoped everything was okay.

"Hey!" That voice. Despite only hearing it a few days ago, now I'd know it anywhere.

I jolted out of reverie, turning my attention to the van parked along the opposing sidewalk. There, with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black leather pants, was Dylan, looking flushed and anxious. My eyes took in his fitted olive colored T-shirt under a black leather jacket, as he moved briskly over the road to me, never raising his eyes to mine. Immediately I felt guilty. Then upset. I didn't do anything wrong. He'd made it very clear at the time that he was into everything I'd done with him.

"A van? Didn't want a stray in your Porsche?"

He rose an eyebrow, eyes meeting mine fleetingly, "Of course not, the thing might have fleas and all sorts of dog diseases."

"You're such a dick," I replied half-heartedly. I probably wouldn't want a stray in my car if I had a Porsche too. Why was I being so prickly for something so small? "Shall we?"

He brushed past me and through the sliding door entrance to Romeo's clinic.

Nancy, a short brunette with rosy cheeks and doe brown eyes who assisted Romeo, dropped her planner when she caught sight of Dylan. And blushed furiously as she bent over to pick it up. I could tell she was probably watching him since he was outside, and fought a smile. Poor Nancy, always falling for queers. If ever your gaydar is broken, bring him to Nancy. If she likes him, he's definitely gay.

I spoke first because it was plain that Nancy couldn't be coherent yet, and because Dylan was looking around like he was examining art on the walls of a gallery. First time? Or just nerves?

"Hey Nance, this is Dylan Ryman," he looked over briefly without saying a word in acknowledgement, and I continued, "We're here for ..." I trailed off, realizing that she would make a connection now. That this beautiful boy had run over the dog she was caring for. A smug grin crawled its way onto my face and sat in the throne that were my lips. “Spotty,” I finished.

If she was blushing before she was definitely flushed now for a different reason. I saw her go fifty shades darker alright. "Mr. Ryman." Her tone made it clear that she was holding onto her anger by a thread. Then she turn back to me, struggling to sound natural, "Yeah, Andy he's doing great. He answered to Spotty today since we've been testing it out, your fault for sticking him with something so common." She turned and started to walk, gesturing in her wild Nancy way as if to fan away her initial lust for Dylan. We followed her down the hall, outside and into an open space they called the animal nursery. My eyes immediately zoned in on Spotty, still as a rock with a front paw raised as if pondering a step and too afraid. My heart went out to him before taking in two other dogs that were pacing the small wooden fencing. One was a white and brown Chihuahua and the other was a black Labrador, both pacing in time.

I resisted the urge to laugh as I saw that they were probably medicated. Beside me I heard Dylan suck in his breath sharply and coming to a halt at the entrance to the outside nursery area. Before I realized it I had slapped his ass to go forward.

He didn't flinch or turn, only moving forward, eyes on Spotty. Then he said, "We're just taking him like this?"

Nancy threw him a look, one that read 'obviously'. "Right now, yes, but we do have to schedule a physiotherapy session with a trainer every day for a week or two, if you can't manage to follow the pamphlet. Otherwise, we'd just check in once a week."

"I hired a trainer for him," Dylan said, "Where do I sign?"

"Right this way," she led him towards Romeo's office. I didn't bother to follow, instead venturing into the nursery and crouching besides Spotty, who wagged slightly as I approached.

His doleful brown eyes looked up at me intelligently, as if recognizing me. I pressed my head to his, noting that he smelled of flea shampoo and his shaggy hair was clean under my palms. He licked at my face.

"He's a friendly one," a voice came from another doorway. I looked up, and a golden haired boy was watching me.

"Yeah, I noticed,” I replied, then frowned. “Are you new here?"

"Yeah. Brand new, I volunteer here since last week." He replied, hands stuck into pockets and he bounced back and forth from the heels of his feet to the tips. Then he smiled coming into fence and stepping around the pacing dogs to stoop on Spotty's other side. The dog immediately lit up, getting excited.

"Wow."

"I know," He said grinning at my reaction, "That's my general effect on animals. People too." He leered without shame.

"Funny," I replied, laughing lightly, "How does that work out for you? That line?"

"I don't see you heading for the hills, I even got you to laugh."

I just barely managed to noticed that Dylan had returned, with Romeo just behind him looking like he had licked a lemon. Dylan was staring at me, hard. So I stared back, defiantly. What got into him? I had the distinct feeling that I had done something wrong and Dylan was upset. Tough.

I broke eye contact to pat Spotty's head, "Let's get out of here, boy."

"It's Nick," the golden boy said.

"Nice to meet you. But I was talking to the dog."

Romeo snorted, having heard just this last as he had come closer. "Nick, I see you've met Andy."

"Hmmm," Nick replied, cheeks coloring as he backed out of the nursery. "I'll go check on the cats. Nice to meet you Andy." I found myself ogling his butt, forced into tight fitted faded denims.

"Right," Romeo called my attention again to the dog on wheels in front of me. "Let's get you home."

In the end it took about half an hour to lift and coax Spotty into being comfortable in the car. Then another half an hour getting him out and settled in the Dylan's backyard where a large dog area had been put together. I didn't ask him how he had gotten it built so fast. Evidently he had construction people too.

Dylan had collected a bunch of pamphlets on what to do, nutrition tips and just about anything from bathing a dog to feeding a newborn puppy without its mom. And his jaws had been clenched the entire drive to his house. So I didn't bother to strike up a conversation besides reminding, "Seatbelt." At which he had snapped on the seatbelt and remained intently focused on the road.

If he wanted to be an asshole, it was his prerogative. I wasn't going to beg. I wouldn't even mention last night. Not if he wanted to pretend nothing had happened. And so my cells protested again. Dylan, himself, was a test of my self-control.

I noticed how he shied away from Spotty, refusing to touch him more than necessary and backing away as soon as he could. I couldn't help it anymore when I snapped, "He's not going to bite you, stop being such a pussy."

He glared at me, the blues flashing dangerously. "Would you get off my ass?” Ha. He continued, “I've never had a pet okay?"

Never? Who the heck were his parents? I practically rescued a new stray every month growing up. I sighed, deciding to give him a break for once, "You can start by talking to him."

"The dog?"

"Well you can talk to me too,” I rolled my eyes. “But yes. I mean Spotty. It doesn't matter what you're saying as much as your tone." I showed him how to do it by talking animatedly to Spotty about him being a good boy and loving his new home. The dog perked up and wagged excitedly.

"Do I have to? You sounded ridiculous.”

"Sod off. Yes, you have to. Come closer too, you're such a pansy for a big guy." He was. He was inching around Spotty like he was afraid of the three-legged dog.

He rose his chin, casting me a poisonous glance before stepping closer and lowering to Spotty's level to say softly, so softly I could barely make it out. "Sorry about the legs."

Spotty barked.

The sound threw me, I hadn't heard him bark since that day he was running after Dylan's car. Then I laughed as I realized Dylan had fallen backwards, startled. His face twisted into rage as he sprang up again, muttering words I couldn't hear.

"Congratulations," I said, and he stopped muttering. "Now you've said you're sorry."

His lips parted slightly as he looked at me. Damn it. I won't leave this house until I'd had him again.