Page 22 of It’s Only Love

Mike

I’ve never been a guy who cared much about clothes, but now, as I take in all the similar T-shirts and worn jeans on the bed, I’m starting to regret it.

For some reason, I don’t feel like wearing the same old thing.

Not tonight. It’s Friday, and Dennis and I have made plans to go to the local pool bar, and I want to look nice.

Dennis always looks great and smart, and I don’t want to look like the same old Mike.

I rub my face, groaning into my hands. Jeez, how many white T-shirts does a guy need?

Then it hits me. Mom’s like me, and we never throw stuff away.

“Mom?! Mom, are Dad’s clothes still in the attic?” I know she hates it when I yell at her from upstairs, but this is an emergency, dammit. Suddenly, I feel like the entire night depends on the clothes I wear. If I wear something different, then perhaps Dennis will look at me differently, too.

When she doesn’t answer, I walk to my open bedroom window and look outside. It’s been nice and warm all week, and I enjoy the fresh air flowing through my room. The weather has been perfect for working outside, like both Dennis and I do now.

Shit, I can’t believe I went by his job with dinner three times this week.

Talk about needy. Not only did it make a significant dent in my bank account, but Mom also commented on my absence and insisted I eat at home last night, which I did.

I can manage a day without seeing Dennis. Of course, I can.

I lean out of the window and look to the right, then to the left, where I find Mom all the way in the back, filling up Willow holes. I shake my head.

“Mom! I told you I was gonna do that!” She pauses, then looks up at me and smiles, brushing the back of her gloved hand across her forehead.

“Will you stop?” she pants. “I’m not some old hag. I can lift a shovel, you know.”

“I know, but it’s my damn dog.” Speaking of which, the queen herself is currently lying under the shade of a large tree, chewing on a bone, looking all smug and carefree.

I only have myself to blame, though. I spoil her.

Maybe it’s not a bad thing that she’ll be staying with Dennis half the time, starting next week.

We agreed he would settle in at work first, and then she would be at his place more.

“Did you want something, sweetie?”

Shit. Fucking miles away again. It happens more and more lately now that Dennis is back. One thought of him leads to the next, and before I know it, I forget what I’m doing.

“Yeah. Right. Do you still have some of Dad’s old stuff in the attic? Like clothes and stuff?”

She tilts her head, looking puzzled for a second. I’ve never asked about Dad’s things before, but I know she’s kept some for me. I haven’t been able to look at it so far; it just hurts too damn much. Maybe today’s the day, though.

A smile washes over her face. “Sure. I kept some of his nicer clothes. They should fit you now.” There’s an edge of wistfulness to her voice. “I can’t believe how much you look like him.”

“I do?”

“So much.”

“Okay. I might take a look then.”

“Anything in particular? It’s a mess up there, but I labeled the boxes.” She drops the shovel at her feet and takes a few steps toward the house. “If you want anything in particular, I can get it for you.”

I hold up my hands. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll take a look.”

“Okay, but holler if you need me. Oh, and Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“Your hair looks nice that way.”

Of course she’d notice.

“Thanks.” I run my hand through my bangs. I never use any kind of hair product, but I picked up some hair wax at the store today. My hair’s gotten way too long again, so I brushed the longer strands back with the wax. “Just trying something new.”

“Well, you sure look handsome, sweetie.”

I give her a wave, then head toward the attic.

“Holy shit, I never thought I’d see the day.

Wes, did you happen to see pigs flying around outside?

” Dennis grins at me, his gaze trailing along the light blue denim button-up I’m wearing.

“Mike Malcolm Tanner wearing something other than a T-shirt.” He shakes his head, chuckling under his breath, and it’s pretty clear that he and Wes had a few drinks before coming here.

“That is not my middle name,” I counter.

“It could be,” Dennis grins cheekily, and Wes snorts, mumbling something under his breath.

I’m not exactly surprised to see Wes. I knew he was back in town for the summer and that he and Dennis are mostly attached at the hip these days, but I was kind of looking forward to it just being the two of us tonight. Then again, it’s not like this is a date or anything…

I hang my jacket over the stool seat and sit down, suddenly feeling out of my element. I should’ve just worn a damn T-shirt. Now I look like a guy who’s trying too hard. Great.

Dennis smacks Wes on the back of his head. “Dude? Earth to Wes.”

“Ouch. What the hell?” Wes complains, but his eyes stay locked on a pretty blonde at the bar.

She’s wearing a pair of jeans that look like they were spray-painted on and a cropped pink top that leaves very little to the imagination.

I guess she’s hot, objectively speaking, but, as usual, the sight of a pretty girl stirs absolutely nothing in me.

Wes whistles, then takes a sip of his beer. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me.” He grins wickedly, rubbing his hands together.

“Dude, we just got here! You ditching us already?” Dennis mock-pouts, then shakes his head, grinning.

Wes’s voice changes into a caveman staccato. “Me, man. Man need woman. Wes be back.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Or maybe not. See you losers later.” Then he hops off the barstool and moves toward the blonde like a heat-seeking missile.

Dennis laughs, then throws his head back to take a long chug of beer.

He’s wearing a nice shirt, too. A short-sleeve shirt in pale pink that complements his slightly tanned skin.

He’s left a few buttons open at the neck, and my gaze gets stuck on his prominent Adam’s apple as it moves up and down with each gulp.

How can a neck be so damn… sexy ? Because it is.

I’ve noticed my growing attraction to Dennis, but it just hit me how fucking hot and sexy he looks tonight.

Suddenly, I feel like an idiot, wearing Dad’s old denim shirt and my hair all slicked back.

What the hell was I thinking? He’s so out of my league.

“You want another?” I nod at his empty glass as he sets it on the table.

“Sure.” He shrugs, his pink lips glistening, wet from his drink. I swallow, tugging at my collar, and although it fits me perfectly, it suddenly feels constrictive.

Dennis leans over the table and places his hand on top of mine.

“I was just joking, you know. You look great, Mike.” He smiles, his brown eyes swimming.

“You should wear button-up shirts more often.” He keeps his hand on top of mine, his palm slightly clammy.

Heat builds where we touch, then spreads along my arm and through the rest of my body, licking along my skin.

I’m suddenly too aware of him, of his presence, how he smells of his woodsy cologne, and the feel of his skin against mine.

“Your hair, on the other hand…” He smirks, leaning closer.

Then, swift as a ninja, he musses up the front, my bangs falling back into my face.

“There. Much better. Now you’re my Mike again.

” His brown eyes widen, and he looks slightly mortified. “I mean—”

“It’s my dad’s. The shirt,” I rush out, leaving my hair as it is.

His expression darkens for a moment, then he nods carefully.

He doesn’t say anything. There’s no need.

He gets what Dad meant to me, what he’ll always mean to me.

Dennis always got it, though he was just a kid when Dad died.

We both were. He squeezes my hand tighter, then hops off his stool, clapping his hands together.

“Drinks are on me! You want the usual?” He lingers in front of me, swaying slightly on his feet, and I reach out, placing my hands on his shoulders, steadying him. I nod, then realize the whole idea was for tonight to be different. I want to be different.

“Nah, I think I’ll try something else for a change.”

He tilts his head, leaning in really close, his beer breath warm and sweet against my chin. Suddenly, he’s standing too damn close yet not close enough.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” There’s a spark in his eyes that could be dangerous if I’m not careful, but somehow, I don’t care. I don’t want to play it safe all the time.

“Surprise me.” The words leave my mouth before I can second-guess myself. Surprise me. Dennis leans in even closer, his eyes huge and filled with mischief.

“Okay… You’re on, Mike Tanner. I’ll blow your mind,” he says, then turns and heads for the bar, a light sway to his hips. You already do, Dennis Holbrook. You have no fucking idea.

The night flies by, old acquaintances from school swinging by the table, hugs, fist bumps, and old stories being exchanged.

We soon realize that Wes is MIA, but to be honest, I’m happy to have Dennis to myself.

He’s more carefree tonight, less guarded, and it’s clear the alcohol is loosening him up.

I’m seeing more glimpses of the old Dennis, the guy I’ve missed so much.

He tells me about his new job, and it’s clear he already loves it.

When he talks about the kids, his entire face lights up.

I bet he’s great at what he does. His enthusiasm and love of nature are so damn contagious that my jaw soon aches from smiling so hard.

“There’s this one kid. He reminds me of you, Mike.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yep. He was really shy at first, but you could tell that he was taking everything in. He didn’t really say much for the first couple of days, but now, it’s like he trusts me enough to ask me questions.

He’s so excited about everything. He seems really smart, too.

There’s just… I don’t know…” He sighs, playing with the coaster on the table.

“What?”

“He just… he seems a little sad, is all. Like, you know, his smile doesn’t really reach his eyes. He seems…”

I swallow because I recognize the look of understanding in Dennis’ eyes. It was the same look he gave me right after Dad died, spilling over with empathy. He has such a huge fucking heart.

“You can tell me, Den.”

He nods, his fingertips brushing up against my knuckles where my hand is wrapped around my glass.

“He’s like you. At least, the way you were when your dad died.

It’s like… he won’t allow himself to be too happy, you know?

Like he carries too much around on his small shoulders.

” He blinks, his eyes growing sad. Then he shrugs, a sheepish smile playing on his lips.

“Shit, sorry. I don’t mean to be such a downer. ”

“It’s okay. You’re right. It did feel like that at the time. But you made it better, Den—you and Aaron. You gave me these… I don’t know, reprieves from the pain, and from Mom’s grief. You… always make things better.”

His face breaks into a broad smile. “You do, too. Fuck, it’s good to be home, man.”

The mood shifts back to a lighter one, and we talk more about work and our ‘co-parenting’ of Willow, as Dennis calls it.

We drink a lot more than I’m used to, and since I’m bigger than Dennis, it hits him way harder than it does me.

By the time we stumble out into the street, the cool night air hitting our faces, he’s so wobbly on his feet that he’s leaning most of his weight against me.

I don’t mind, though. It feels nice. I snake my arm around his waist, and we walk down the empty street.

The moon is out, lighting the way, although I’d know the way to Dennis’ house in my sleep .

Dennis hums the last song they played before we left the bar. It was Justin Timberlake’s SexyBack. He hiccups in between the lyrics, and it’s fucking adorable.

Suddenly, I can’t help laughing. “I can’t believe you got me that drink.”

“What drink?”

“That cherry one. I forgot the name.” I did not forget the name because I nearly fell on my ass when he told me, a wicked look in his eyes.

Dennis snorts, then stops, turning toward me. He’s so close that our chests brush up against each other. “Oh. You mean Pop my Cherry ?” He pops the P and blinks at me all innocently.

“Yeah… That’s the one.” I swallow, my heart racing.

He chuckles. “Did you like it, Mike? My cherry?”

Fuuuck me. He’s drunk, I remind myself. He has no idea what he’s saying.

“O-kay, let’s get you home, Drunk Daisy.” I grab his hand and tug him after me, but he doesn’t move.

“Mike?” He tips his head back and squints at the moon.

“Yeah?”

“I was only kidding. You know that, right?” He keeps his eyes on the moon, his face lit up with an almost translucent glow on his skin.

Shit, he’s stunning. So fucking stunning.

Before, I thought he was sexy, but Dennis is so much more than that.

Looking at him makes my heart race. The burning sensation returns, my body becoming alight with the kind of attraction I never thought I’d experience.

I want to pull him closer to me, to feel his body up close against mine, but he’s drunk.

I also think I missed my chance that night when he kissed me and I rejected him, because he’s never shown any interest in me since then.

“I know, Den,” I rasp, then tug him after me down the street.

I wish you weren’t. I wish I’d been your first. I wish…