Page 78 of Pieces of Me

Before Rylan could say anything more, Scott let him go, moving to sit down at the table again. “I can’t believe I told you all this shit,” he mumbled self-consciously. “Ain’t never told―” He cleared his throat. “I haven’t ever told anybody about this.”

“Well, we both shared some pretty big secrets tonight,” Rylan said quietly, already missing the warmth and comfort of Scott’s body against his. He leaned against the kitchen counter and wrapped his arms around his middle, trying to recreate the feeling of being in Scott’s arms with no success. “And you know what they say about secrets, right? That they lose their power when they’re shared?”

Scott didn’t answer, and Rylan went on, his voice trembling a little, “I feel like that’s true, at least for me. Holding in what I think happened to my mom, trying not to think about it…actually saying it aloud to someone I trust has helped a lot already.”

When Scott looked at him, his eyes held a bone-deep sadness that tore at Rylan’s insides. “That’s good,” he said dully. “I’m not worthy of your trust, but I’m glad.”

“Scott, that’s so not―”

“Well,” Scott interrupted, pushing up from the table, his chair scraping back with a loud screech that broke the spell. “Part of the reason I came over here was to get you to help me with eyeliner again―” He pulled the tube from his front pocket and held it up with a grin that Rylan noticed didn’t come anywhere close to reaching his eyes. “―but we should get going. I’ll have Teena do it for me there.”

Rylan walked over to him. “I’m happy to do it, and it’ll only take a second.” He reached for the tube, but Scott stuck it back in his pocket.

“Nah,” he said, moving toward the door. “It ain’t―it’s not important.”

Rylan’s heart ached anew at the walls he sensed Scott throwing up around him, but all he did was nod, grabbing up his camera backpack from the floor and slinging the strap over one shoulder.

They walked to the car in silence. Once seated inside, Rylan saw Scott pull his phone out of his pocket and glance at it before tossing it negligently down on the console. It was full of notifications that glowed softly on the screen, and as it went blank again, Rylan caught a glimpse of what looked like a string of texts calling him an “asshole” and a “user.” Shit. Lance’s friends must have been rallying around him against Scott, and shame flooded through Rylan when he realized Scott had come to him for moral support after his painful breakup, and instead of listening, Rylan had decided for some reason it would be a good idea to burden him with his own crap, which forced Scott down into an even darker place.

You stupid fuck, Rylan berated himself silently. Way to be a friend.

Rylan noticed the muscles bunching in Scott’s jaw and the tight set of his lips, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel. He’d already been hurting, and all Rylan had done was make it worse. Way worse.

I’m sorry, Rylan thought miserably, but he didn’t say anything, not wanting Scott to feel like he needed to comfort him anymore.

Neither of them said a word the rest of the way to the club.

CHAPTER 16

Someone I trust. Saying it aloud to someone I trust has helped already.

The words pounded through Scott’s brain over and over, drowning out even the thumping house music playing at earsplitting decibels. The dull roar of the crowd, the alcohol buzzing through his blood, all that was overshadowed by feeling the precious weight of Rylan’s trust resting on his shoulders.

It scared the shit out of him.

Scott prowled around the main floor of the club, which was packed even more than usual for a Saturday night. The reason for that was on the opposite side of the dance floor, where Lance and a large contingent of his friends and fans were holding court. Scott rolled his eyes, aware of the avid stares of people around him, the pointing and speculation. Drama whores were out in full force tonight, licking their lips at the thought of something new and juicy to feast on.

“Lance went all out, didn’t he?” drawled a voice in Scott’s ear, and he turned his head to see Teena standing next to him. A smile quirked his lips as he slid his arm around her waist, and he took a moment to admire her pink cotton-candy wig, the expertly applied makeup, and the little jewels affixed to the corner of each eye.

“God, you look gorgeous,” he growled, and Teena tossed her head.

“’Course I do,” she said breezily. “Took me three hours to paint this shit on and squeeze my padded tushy into this tight-ass dress. I better look fuckin’ amazing.” Then she sobered. “You okay, baby? Lance is saying some pretty awful shit about you.”

Scott pressed a kiss to her temple. “Yeah, I know,” he said, giving a rueful grimace. “He’s made sure to tag me in everything he posts, and all his friends and the gay-porn fangirls are letting me have it.” He squeezed Teena reassuringly. “He needs to get it out of his system, and it’ll all die down in a few days.”

Teena huffed in disgust. “Drama sells even more than sex does, right?” She reluctantly pulled away with an air kiss to Scott’s cheek. “Well, better get set up for the show.” She took a few steps, hesitated, and went on, “If you want, we can go get chili-cheese fries afterward, like we used to after a shitty day.”

Scott winked at her, her genuine concern making him feel warm inside. “Thanks, doll,” he said, “but I’m not in the mood tonight.”

Teena frowned, and Scott forestalled the objection he sensed she was about to make, saying the first thing that popped into his head. “I’ll probably go home with Rylan later.”

Her frown deepened, and he went on, “Not like that, Teena. Rylan and I are old friends, with a lot of history, and I haven’t seen him in years. We’re still catching up on things, that’s all.”

She put her hands on her hips. “And yet I’ve never heard about him―until now?” She arched an elegant eyebrow. “What gives, Scotty?”

Scott tried to avoid her, but she was having none of it and moved around in front of him, getting up in his face. The music and flashing strobe lights were starting to give him a headache, but he forced himself to smile at her. “Painful shit, you know? The kind that someone who wasn’t there wouldn’t understand.”

Teena’s face softened, and she grabbed his hand, squeezing his fingers. “Yeah, I get it, babe,” she said. “I could sense there was something there from the moment you mentioned his name, but I figured all you wanted to do was fuck him.”