Mike stopped dead in his tracks and shoved his hands in his pockets, staring ahead at Dylan, eyes boring into his.
“Yep.”
That enraged Dylan more than anything, because he knew at this point Mike would only give one-word answers. Like a robot, the man shut down and steeled himself, becoming an impenetrable fortress of quotidian bullshit.
“So you knew how important this date was, you knew that I was checking her out for us, not just for me, you jerk!” Dylan seethed now, his anger fueled by Mike’s withdrawal. “So, why in the hell would you go behind my back and contact her? And a few hours after I slept with her!”
“I didn’t know you slept with her!”
Dylan cocked his head, rolled his eyes, and made an Oh please! gesture. “Right, like any woman I wanna sleep with isn’t going to sleep with me on the first date!”
Mike let out a puff of laughter. “Do you know how much you sound like a total douche? Like any woman I wanna sleep with is gonna to turn me down,” he mocked, his hands gesturing like Dylan’s, chest puffed up and prancing around like a peacock. Animated, mocking Mike was way worse than Robot Mike.
Dylan could feel his heart rate zoom, and, he feared, his skin turn green as he morphed into something so angry he couldn’t control it, a firefighter, billionaire Hulk.
And it was all aimed right at Mike.
“What you do or don’t do on your dates, Dylan, is up to you.” Mike replied. A cold wall, unreadable. Typical Mike.
“When you’re poaching women that I find for us, it becomes my business, Mike!”
“I never asked you to go out and find women for us, Dylan!”
“Well, you never asked me not to! It’s been eighteen months. When are you gonna get over Jill?”
Mike pursed his lips, his nostrils flaring, the affable good guy now morphing into something that Dylan knew was under the surface. “I think I can ask you the same question, Dyl. When are you gonna get over Jill? When are you gonna get over this idea that there’s some perfect woman out there for us. There isn’t. There’s a good woman for you and there’s a good woman for me, but the perfect woman for us? That’s...” Dipping his head and hiding his face, Mike’s voice faded out as if it were too impossible to voice.
“Then why did you date Laura—why did you go after her? Doesn’t make any sense Mike, what you’re saying man.” Dylan’s heart rate started to slowly drop. He knew where this was going and he knew that picking a fight with the man he loved was about the last thing on earth that he needed right now. And yet he couldn’t help himself, because, son of a bitch, the guy had just gone and taken away the woman that he was trying to court for both of them.
“You wanna know the truth?” Mike ran a hand through his thick blonde hair and shook his head, smiled ruefully. “The real truth, Dylan?”
“No shit, Mike, of course I wanna know the truth. Don’t lie to me. Oh, wait a minute. Hey—you already did!”
Mike rolled his eyes again. “The truth is, I wanted to prove that whatever woman you try to find for us is independently attracted to me. I’m sick and tired of getting your sloppy seconds.”
“Oh, so now Jill was sloppy seconds!”
“I did not say that!” Mike straightened up to his full height. Six feet, five inches. A wall of runner’s muscle. Now the aggression was coming out, the anger was reaching the surface, and Dylan could watch it, but all he could do was respond to it, instinct taking over.
“I never said that about, Jill. But you know how that worked. I had—”
“Dylan, you can’t just go out and find some woman and throw her down at my feet like a table scrap and expect us to live in threesome harmony. You have to respect the fact that I need to care about her, too. I need to make sure that she cares about me as well.”
Dylan had known at the back of his mind that this was true. Of course it was true. Of course Mike should feel that whoever they shared was in love with him—in love with both of them but in love with him. Dylan knew it. Dylan had known from the moment he met Jill that she was head-over-heels in love with him and the other night with Laura he had felt something awfully close to that, maybe even the same as that, but he was holding back. Grief had a way of messing with him.
Now here stood Mike, pissed as hell at him. The two of them facing off, the anger tangible, so palpable he could almost lick its bicep.
And then suddenly, both men pulled back. Mike peered at him. “You know, there’s only one way to find out where this is going.”
Dylan shook his head. “She won’t answer my texts. She won’t answer my phone calls. She won’t—it’s like, man, she just cut me out.”