Page 53 of Hurricane Love

“Two weeks, so I guess you were right.”

“Right about what?” Diego asked, suspicious of the man’s tone of voice.

“About it never working out between us,” Wylie said, then stared back as if to challenge him.

Diego was learning that this was a strategy of Wylie’s, to say something so outrageous that Diego might be forced to defend himself or argue with him about it. Was this a lawyerly tactic or simply Wylie’s attempt to get at the truth? Diego huffed out an irritated sigh and shook his head. “That’s not what I said.”

“Wasn’t it?” Wylie’s expression reflected the same pain as the other morning, a mixture of rejection and longing, but before Diego could answer, he continued, “Listen, I’m sorry if I’m beingan asshole. I don’t want to fight. I’m just stressed and a little bit mad at you, if I’m being honest. But I appreciate you helping me today.”

This warranted a longer conversation, one that Diego didn’t want to have with the neighbors milling about and Hannah waiting on Wylie to finish packing his stuff so she could unpack her own. “How about you come over to my place tonight and we can talk about it more?” Diego said. He didn’t want there to be bad feelings between them, and he owed Wylie an explanation.

“You want to talk about…feelings? With me?” Wylie asked, looking somewhat incredulous.

Diego couldn’t help but smile at that. “Yes.”

“You’ve never invited me over to your place before,” Wylie said as if it had been an intentional slight against him.

“That’s because it’s a shit hole.”

Wylie took his sweet time sucking on the end of his vape while he considered it. Diego had a flashback to that mouth giving the same attention to his dick, and wondered if Wylie was drawing it out on purpose. Probably.

“I want to stay the night too,” Wylie said at last, always the negotiator. He glanced behind him at the train station that was currently his trailer. “That couch hurts my back. And besides, you owe me breakfast.”

Diego knew it was probably a bad idea, but he was too far gone for the man already, so he readily agreed. “Okay.”

“And, is there the possibility of sex? I just wanna be prepared. Might need to stretch first,” Wylie said while rolling his shoulders.

Diego grinned because the one thing he could count on was the fact that Wylie had a one-track mind when it came to satisfying his dick. “There is astrongpossibility,” Diego conceded while trying not to blush.

“Then, yes, we can talk about our feelings. As long as it’s an actual conversation, and you don’t pull that condescending because-I-said-so bullshit like you’re my parent,” Wylie snapped.

Diego winced. He supposed he deserved that. “Fine, I won’t.”

Wylie stuck out his hand and Diego grabbed hold of it. Wylie’s grip was solid and strong, the handshake of a future lawyer. “Deal,” he said.

“Deal,” Diego agreed.

Soon, Wylie would be heading off to law school to pursue his bright and shining future, and Diego would become a distant memory, that one summer before his real life began when Wylie had nothing better to do than pursue the grouchy new guy working behind the counter.

But they had two more weeks together before that happened. Fourteen borrowed days of sunrises and sunsets and the opportunity to make the most of every shared moment between them.

Diego wasn’t going to waste a second.

“So, this is your place.”

Wylie stood in the middle of Diego’s small living room and surveyed their surroundings, his clever eyes darting here and there to inspect every nook and cranny. Diego felt slightly exposed, knowing how cold and sterile it appeared. He’d turned the main living area into his home gym with equipment he’d bought second-hand, mostly from Facebook Marketplace and Goodwill. There was not much furniture, no artwork or photographs, no personal effects at all. Nothing more than a place to eat, sleep, and work out. Kind of like prison.

“This is it,” Diego confirmed.

“It’s definitely giving off serial killer vibes,” Wylie said and Diego couldn’t really argue with that. It was a mental game he played with himself. He didn’t want to get too comfortable here, so he hadn’t invested in any furnishings or done much to make the place feel like home. Maybe he really was just as cold and detached as his surroundings.

“I hope to not be here much longer,” Diego said. He didn’twant to continue to rely on his uncle for the discounted rent. As soon as he’d saved up enough money, he’d find a place of his own. Maybe then he’d hang a picture or two on the walls and find some second-hand furniture.

“And this is where the magic happens,” Wylie said, nodding to his bench and set of weights.

“Yeah, if you want to call it that.”

“Well, it’s clean,” Wylie reasoned.