The Captain's Dirty Little Secret

Chapter 268: Chapter 268 - Whatever This Is

Dylan’s hands stayed frozen around the controller.

Zac waited.

The game menu continued playing on the television, loud enough to fill the basement but nowhere near loud enough to make the silence between them less awkward. Dylan kept staring at the screen like Zac had asked the television instead of him.

The longer it went, the more Zac regretted opening his fucking mouth.

He could have left it alone.

They had been playing normally twenty minutes ago. Talking shit. Throwing cushions at each other. Dylan had been Dylan again, and Zac had finally stopped worrying that one weird conversation was going to destroy the only friendship in his life he could still depend on.

Now there was no going back to pretending Dylan had meant something else.

Zac shifted in the chair. "Dylan."

"Yeah."

Zac stopped.

That was it.

One word.

Dylan still had not looked at him.

Zac had already expected the answer by this point. He was not stupid, and everything about Dylan’s reaction over the last few days had basically confirmed it before Zac finally asked.

Actually hearing him say it still felt different.

Zac had no fucking idea what to say.

Dylan finally looked over and immediately frowned. "You asked."

"I know."

"Then stop looking at me like that."

Zac blinked. "Like what?"

"I don’t fucking know. Like that."

Zac rubbed a hand across his mouth because he genuinely had no idea what his face was doing. "I’m trying to understand."

"What part?"

Zac hesitated. This was going to sound stupid no matter how he said it. "Like... actually?"

Dylan stared at him.

Zac knew immediately that he had somehow made it worse.

"What other kind have we been talking about for 2 minutes?"

Zac almost laughed.

Dylan looked irritated enough that the laugh stayed mostly in his throat, but the tension broke just enough for Zac to breathe normally again.

"I’m asking."

"You’re doing a fucking terrible job."

"Well, excuse me for never having this conversation before."

Dylan looked back at the television. "Lucky you."

Zac leaned farther into the chair and tried to figure out how to ask the question without sounding like an idiot. He failed.

"You mean you want to date me or something?"

Dylan closed his eyes.

"Jesus Christ."

"What?"

"Could you make it sound any worse?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to say it?"

"I don’t know, Zac."

"That’s why I asked."

Dylan rubbed his forehead before finally looking at him again. He looked embarrassed now, which Zac somehow liked even less than when Dylan was irritated.

"Yeah," Dylan said. "Something like that."

Zac nodded slowly.

Okay.

There it was.

No weird interpretation. No badly worded drunken friendship confession. Dylan actually liked him.

Like that.

Zac looked down at his hands.

A question came immediately.

"How long have you..."

He stopped.

His stomach turned before he even finished.

Dylan at fourteen.

Fifteen.

Sixteen.

Sitting beside Zac while he talked about some girl he thought was hot. Listening to him talk about girls he made out with. Watching whatever other stupid shit Zac had done before Roxie.

Then Roxie herself.

Fuck.

Zac immediately shook his head. "Never mind."

Dylan watched him for a second. "You sure?"

"Yeah."

"You don’t want to know?"

"No."

The answer came too quickly, but Zac meant it.

He already felt guilty about enough people.

His mother. Mia. Nathan, somehow, even after everything. Roxie most of all.

He had no interest in finding out Dylan had spent years quietly wanting something Zac had never even known he was supposed to notice. He knew logically that would not make it his fault, but his brain had never been particularly good at stopping there.

Dylan seemed to know exactly where Zac’s thoughts had gone.

"You didn’t do anything."

Zac looked at him.

"Whatever you’re thinking," Dylan continued, "you didn’t do anything to me."

"Doesn’t exactly make me feel better."

"That’s your problem."

Zac laughed before he could stop himself.

Dylan’s mouth twitched too.

For a second, there he was again.

His best friend.

Zac rubbed his palms against his jeans. "Why’d you even tell me?"

Dylan leaned back against the couch and stared toward the ceiling. "Because I’m apparently a fucking idiot."

"Helpful."

"You showed up here looking like shit. You were crying over Roxie and talking about how you didn’t care if every girl in Briarwick wanted you."

Zac remembered.

Unfortunately.

Dylan continued, "I’d been drinking. You were being depressing as fuck. I was tired, and it came out."

"So it wasn’t planned."

Dylan gave him a flat look. "Did it look planned?"

Zac thought about Dylan’s face immediately after saying it.

"No."

"I regretted it before you even answered."

"That bad?"

"I wanted the floor to open."

Zac laughed quietly. "Would’ve been convenient."

"Fuck you."

The basement settled into silence again, but it felt slightly easier now.

At least Dylan was talking.

Zac had been worried the second he brought this up Dylan would shut down completely or get pissed and leave him sitting there alone. Instead they were still here, still insulting each other, even if Zac’s entire understanding of their friendship had developed a giant question mark over it.

There was one thing that had been bothering him, though.

Zac looked toward Dylan. "Was that why you hated me and Roxie together?"

Dylan’s expression changed immediately.

"No."

The answer came so fast that Zac believed it before Dylan even continued.

"You sure?"

"Yes, I’m fucking sure."

Zac watched him.

Dylan leaned forward. "You two were hurting each other. I’d have said that if I wanted to fuck you, marry you, or push you into traffic."

Zac grimaced. "I really didn’t need the first two."

"You asked."

"Yeah. Regretting that."

Dylan gave him a look. "Was I jealous sometimes? Sure. I’m not going to lie about that now. Did I enjoy sitting there watching you make out with her?"

Zac lifted a hand. "Stop."

"No."

"I got the point."

"Good, because it fucking sucked."

"Dylan."

Dylan laughed.

Zac shook his head and looked toward the television.

As awkward as the answer was, something inside him loosened.

He needed to know that.

Dylan had been the loudest person telling him his relationship with Roxie was fucked. He had pointed out the scratches, the bruises, the jealousy, all the shit Zac kept finding excuses for because loving Roxie made everything feel worth surviving.

If Dylan had only said those things because he wanted Zac for himself, then Zac would have had to rethink every conversation they had.

Apparently that part, at least, was real.

Dylan had been scared for him.

The rest was just messier than Zac knew.

"So what?"

Zac looked back at him. "What?"

Dylan’s expression had gone uncomfortable again.

"You know what."

Zac did.

Fuck.

He had spent this entire conversation asking Dylan questions because he wanted answers. Apparently answers went both ways.

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