Page 70 of Pieces of Me

Scott gave a shout of laughter. “I won’t let you die. C’mon, grab some shoes and let’s go.”

Rylan rummaged through the several sets of shoeboxes on the bed and picked out a staid white pair in his size. “We don’t need hiking boots?” He sat on the edge of the king-size bed and donned the shoes, lacing them up quickly.

“Nah,” Scott said, still leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He was wearing a tight black tank paired with some basketball shorts in a dark blue. “The trail is pretty worn down from the thousands of people who hike it every year. The tread on a good pair of sneakers is more than fine.” He winked. “I promise you’re not going to die, Rylan.”

“Easy for you to say,” Rylan shot back. “You’re like―like an Olympic athlete, and I’m―”

“Stronger than you look. Give yourself some credit.” Scott pushed off the wall and headed for the front door. “Come on. We’ll take it slow, and you’ll be fine.”

Rylan nodded, determined not to complain anymore, and followed Scott back down to the lobby. A couple of people side-eyed his outfit as they walked across the polished floor toward the parking garage elevators, but Rylan stared back, sometimes giving a cheeky grin if the person didn’t look away immediately. Scott shook with silent laughter at his side. “You crack me up. Reminds me of that day in high school when you got right back in that bully’s face, told him to get his shit over with so you could eat your lunch.”

Rylan made a disgusted noise. “That dude. Parker. He joined the Army after graduation, and I weep for our country. A thoroughly nasty human being.” He started in surprise when Scott suddenly stopped walking and grabbed his arm.

“After I left, he made your life hell, didn’t he?” Scott’s face was stark with sudden realization. “Parker did? Steve?”

Rylan shifted, aware of Scott’s strong, warm hand on his bicep, the memory of taunts, shoves, jeering faces, and name-calling welling up and making him wince involuntarily.

“I’m sorry,” Scott whispered.

“Hey.” Rylan covered Scott’s hand with his own. “I’m stronger than I look, remember? It was nothing I couldn’t handle.” He made his voice as reassuring as he could. “I had Gabriel, and we got through it together. What those assholes did wasn’t your fault.”

Scott’s face didn’t relax, and his green eyes darkened further with guilt. “Scott.” Rylan squeezed his hand again. “They made the choice to act like homophobic pricks, and I got through it, and I’m fine. I promise.”

Rylan looked steadily at Scott, willing him to believe him. After another minute, Scott gave a reluctant nod, and Rylan let go. “It is what it is, right?” he said lightly. “Life according to Scott Ashworth.” He smiled.

Scott’s shoulders slumped, and he quirked his lips, almost as if he couldn’t help himself. “Right. I guess I should get that tattooed on my ass or something so I never forget it.”

They got on the elevator to make the short descent to the parking garage, and it was Rylan’s turn to laugh. “Get a tramp stamp. Then you be lookin’ so sexy in that thong,” he teased, his mouth involuntarily drying up as he remembered Scott writhing on that dude’s lap, naked except for a miniscule scrap of fabric covering his junk. Unless he’d gotten a tattoo on his dick, Rylan knew without a doubt his body was gloriously ink-free, a work of art that didn’t need any artificial enhancement.

The elevator glided to a stop, and they ambled toward Scott’s car. As Scott took Rylan’s backpack from him and put it gently in the backseat, he glanced at him. “How about you?” he asked. “Any tattoos?”

Rylan winked. “Maybe.”

Scott took a step back, his eyes tracing Rylan’s body from head to toe, making Rylan feel like liquid heat was sliding over him. He gulped.

“I don’t see any,” Scott asked, clearing his throat.

Rylan tried to give a careless shrug, his awareness of Scott’s intense gaze making his knees feel a little weak. He forced himself to turn away and got into the car, or collapsed in, if truth be told. Scott shook his head once as if to clear it and without another word strode to the driver’s side. A few minutes later, they were pulling out onto the bright, busy street, the wind soothing Rylan’s flushed face.

Damn. Keeping Scott at arm’s length was going to be harder than he thought.

✩✩✩

“I hate you, Ashworth!”

Rylan was gasping for breath, feeling like knives were stabbing into his side. His legs were rubbery from exertion, and sweat was pouring from him.

Scott was dripping wet too, his body glistening with an all-over sheen, but he wasn’t even breathing hard…damn him. He’d run―run―up to the summit and back down…twice…while Rylan was still struggling to reach the halfway point.

“Channel that hate, Mahoney,” Scott called out to him, laughter in his voice, “and use it to climb! Deep breaths in, blow it out. Keep that oxygen flowing!”

Rylan wanted to snarl at him, tell him to shut the fuck up, but he couldn’t spare the breath. The heat was making black spots dance in front of his eyes, and he stopped to drink some of the water Scott gave him at the trailhead. His camera felt like a deadweight hanging around his neck, and more than once Rylan was tempted to fling the fucking thing over the side of the mountain. Why had he agreed to this?

“It’ll be worth it at the top, Ry,” Scott coaxed, jogging lightly in place while he waited for Rylan to finish drinking. “Stunning panoramic views of the Valley. It’s gorgeous.”

Rylan capped his water and put it on the ground, bending over at the waist to prop his hands on his knees, letting his head hang while he caught his breath. “It better be worth it, or I’ll push you off,” he threatened, biting his lip to hide a smile when Scott laughed. He looked up just in time to see Scott snap a picture of him with his phone, and Rylan straightened indignantly.

“What the hell? Delete that!” he demanded, only imagining how wrecked and disgusting he was right now. In contrast, Scott was absolutely mouthwatering, all golden-brown skin and ridged muscle, his tank top long since shed and tucked into the waistband of his shorts, which rode low on lean hips. All Rylan could think about was kneeling at his feet to lick up every drop of sweat coursing over his incredible body.