Boyfriend Chronicles 02 - The Boyfriend Mandate (28 page)

Noah turned to speak to Tyler, and Memphis took a moment to appreciate, again, that Tyler wasn’t the loner he’d been in college. Watching him with his band of stand-in brothers helped, because soon Memphis had to get back to…well, whatever came next. And this time when he left, Tyler wouldn’t be alone.

Screw the melancholy thoughts, Memphis. You’re not dead yet.

Memphis turned to Tyler. “You ready to go?”

The man met his gaze and hesitated. Memphis counted out one, two, and then three heartbeats before Tyler chucked his plastic cup into the trash.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Tyler said with a smooth tone that could have meant anything.

Hunh.

Memphis had no idea if the guy would be willing to go back to his hotel with him or not. Anxious to get them alone and find out, he turned and headed for the exit.

When Tyler fell into step beside him, satisfaction buzzed in Memphis’s veins. Outside, sunshine filled the blocked-off street. Memphis stepped up onto the sidewalk leading to the parking garage.

“You’ll be at Noah’s on Thursday, right?” Memphis asked.

“He’d kill me if I didn’t stick around for the party,” he said. “You?”

“Yeah. I have a support group to attend on Friday anyway.”

Tyler’s eyebrows instantly shot higher, and his pace slowed. “A support group?”

Memphis sighed. “I promised Jules I’d make an appearance at the monthly meeting for teens. Patrick will be there.”

The shocked expression on Tyler’s face didn’t change.

“Yeah, I know,” Memphis drawled, “the tell-me-how-you’re-feeling huddles aren’t my usual cup of tea.”

But after his stunt today, Julissa had called and asked him to attend. And a lot of annoyingly persistent thoughts had popped into his head.

Thoughts like, what would be left of him after he was gone? Underwear ads? Movies where he pretended to get blown up? He loved what he did for a living, but suddenly it all felt so…insignificant.

The day he’d snuck Patrick off the oncology ward, the sour teen with the bitter disposition had done a lot of laughing. At the stunt, the kid had seemed happier. And those moments had felt like they had value, like something worth remembering.

And wasn’t that what anybody would want? To be worth remembering?

Tyler slowly shook his head. “I cannot picture you speaking at a support group.”

Me, either
.

“What are you planning to talk about?” Tyler asked.

“I have no fucking clue.” That was the problem with a lofty goal—now he felt pressured to come up with something brilliant to say. Jesus, he should have thought of that before he’d agreed to go. He glanced at Tyler, and the words were out of his mouth before he realized the idea was in his head. “You wanna tag along and keep me company?”

Tyler hesitated before answering. “Okay.”

The tension in Memphis’s shoulders eased some, and they continued up the sidewalk in silence.

“So,” Tyler finally said, “you promised to tell me how you were needy, too, way back when.”

Memphis’s lips twisted, and uncertainty coiled in his gut. He just wished he knew how Tyler would respond to the news. This might be a mood killer, too.

“Yeah, about that.” Memphis massaged his neck, trying to ease the annoying ache. “My screwed-up emotional needs weren’t very obvious,” he said as he sent him a rueful smile.

Tyler remained silent with an amused, expectant look on his face. God, Memphis hoped the man maintained that sense of humor.

“All the way up until the end of our relationship, I was…” Memphis paused as they turned a corner onto the next street. “I was still sorta obsessing about my one-nut status and my abilities to perform in bed, and you…”

Fuck.

He watched Tyler’s lids slowly stretch wide in comprehension. Damn it to hell and back. He knew he should feel guilty. But Memphis had loved every glorious sexed-up moment. Every time he’d made his boyfriend come, Memphis had felt that much better. He supposed there were worse ways to work through your insecurities.

But maybe Tyler wouldn’t see it that way.

They entered the dim parking garage, and Memphis grimaced before trying again. “Basically, I―”

“Coped by screwing me senseless instead of BASE jumping off of radio towers,” Tyler filled in, his tone dry.

“Yeah.” His snort bounced off the brick walls. “Pretty much.”

Their footsteps echoed off the low ceiling of the building.

A tiny line appeared between Tyler’s eyebrows. “So the fact that you were at me every chance you had was more about you needing a therapist and less about wanting me?”

“Oh, hell no. I definitely wanted to fuck your brains out,” Memphis said, biting back the
still do
. “It just so happened to double as the best form of therapy. Ever.”

Tyler blew out a breath that whistled on its way out, the sound filled with more humor than bitterness. But the look on his face still left Memphis worried about what would come next.

“Well,” Tyler said with a serious tone, “I have a confession, too.”

Memphis stared at the somber expression. Maybe Tyler was angry? Memphis didn’t see the usual clench of teeth. But still…

Memphis was almost afraid to ask. “What’s the confession?”

Gray eyes steady, he replied, “I totally used you to practice my blow job techniques.”

Completely unprepared for the statement—and the crippling surge of lust—Memphis was struck mute for a full three seconds until the words fully caught up with his brain. And then a loud laugh rumbled out of his mouth.

Memphis grinned at Tyler. “You are one evil son of a bitch.”

“I know,” he said, his lips twitching.

“But,” Memphis said, his grin growing bigger, “I forgive you.”

“I figured you would,” he deadpanned.

And then Tyler smiled, a freaking amazing smile that lit up his gaze and crinkled the corners of his eyes and did alarming things to the rhythm of Memphis’s heart. Maybe they had been a little messed up. Maybe they hadn’t had the healthiest of relationships. But even during the most difficult times, something about Tyler’s smile always made Memphis’s day better.

Always.

And, Jesus, after the denial stage had come to a brutal end today, reality firmly kicking him in the ass and ruining his mood, he really craved the
better
right now.

Memphis studied Tyler out of the corner of his eye as they passed a row of cars in the parking garage. “Do you have any plans tonight?”

“No.”

“Well, I have a suggestion.”

“What’s that?”

Memphis pursed his lips and debated how to ask for what he wanted without sounding like a dick. Unfortunately,
sleep with me tonight
seemed so self-serving.

“Come back to my hotel with me,” Memphis said.

And then he held his breath, waiting for an answer.

Come back to the hotel with me.

Memphis’s words slowly dropped the bottom from beneath Tyler’s stomach, and his footsteps slowed. Every once in a while, their hands would brush, and the occasional graze of skin sent a prickle of electric energy up his arm and left him feeling overheated.

“I meant what I said before.” Memphis stopped walking, and Tyler followed suit. They turned to face each other as he went on. “Right now my life is too…” A serious expression crossed his face, and he rolled his shoulders as if sore from his fall or tense or maybe even a little nervous. “I guess
complicated
is the term I’m searching for,” he said. His hazel gaze grew dark. “I’m not looking for a relationship. But I really want you with me tonight.”

Good God.

Tyler wanted that, too. Unfortunately, now the
I’m not looking for a relationship
kept echoing in his head like a warning, which wasn’t helping his heart rate or his rapidly deteriorating decision-making skills…

“Mr. Haines.”

Sean, the redheaded reporter with
The
San Francisco Sun
rounded the back of a parked van and headed in their direction, and Tyler groaned out loud.

Christ, not now.
Not now
.

“You ready for that interview yet?” Sean said.

“I’ve told you a thousand times,” Memphis said as the journalist came closer. “No interview.” And then he turned on his heel and resumed his walk toward his vehicle.

Tyler matched Memphis’s stride and watched him from the corner of his eye. This time, the stuntman looked annoyed by Sean’s presence.

The reporter trotted alongside. “Is that all you have to say?”

“Of course not.” Memphis sent Sean a grin that didn’t come anywhere near his eyes. “Don’t let the parking garage gate hit you in the ass on the way out.”

The reporter’s expression didn’t change with the sarcastic reply.

“Did Julissa know you were gay when she married you?” Sean asked.

Tyler mentally winced.

“The word is
bisexual
,” Memphis said. “And I’m not going to waste my time teaching you how
not
to sound like a total douche.”

Sean tried again. “I’m sure―”

“But just for the record,” Memphis continued, ignoring the reporter’s attempt to talk, “you should avoid the terms ‘part-time straight,’ ‘confused,’ and ‘homosexual lite.’ Although ‘half-assed gay’ has a certain ring to it, I suppose. But maybe that’s just because I’m partial to the word
ass
.”

The sarcasm that oozed from Memphis’s tone was darker than usual.

Sean didn’t seem to care. “Did Julissa know you were
bisexual?
”

The air quotes he’d used while saying the word left little doubt the man rejected its very existence. The douchebag did indeed deserve the nickname. And,
Christ
, Tyler had never truly appreciated how much more difficult being bisexual could be.

Memphis’s lips grew tight as he increased his pace. “The answer to your question about Julissa is: none of your business.”

“Are you and Dr. Hall back together?” the reporter asked.

“No comment.”

“Are you going to reconcile with your ex-wife?”

“No comment.”

Tyler stumbled on a crack in the pavement. The rapid-fire question-and-answer session—not to mention the disturbing questions—were making his mind spin.

“Why don’t you just agree to an interview?” the reporter said.

“With you?” Memphis said. “No fucking way.”

Sean looked really pissed now. “Answer with the truth, Mr. Haines,” he said. “Was your college boyfriend here such a lousy lay he turned you straight, or was your ex-wife such a cold fish she turned you off women for good?”

Before Tyler could register the insult, Memphis gripped the reporter’s shirt and slammed him up against the brick wall.

Sonofabitch.

Heart pumping, Tyler stared at the two men and took a moment to set aside his conflicted thoughts to appreciate that a pissed off Memphis was extra
hot
. Muscles and sinew now straining in his arms, Memphis could take the guy with one hand tied behind his back, or probably both. Sean didn’t move except for the blink of his lids, mouth gaping, pinned by the hands fisted in his shirt.

Memphis stepped closer, until he was nose-to-nose with the reporter. “You can say whatever the hell you want about me,” he said in a rough voice. His tone and his face and his body language radiated the pure threat in his words. “But you leave my ex out of this.” He leaned his face a little closer. “Do we understand each other?”

Time ticked by in tension-filled increments.

The reporter swallowed nervously, but his gaze remained steady. “If you’d just agree to―”

“I
said
”—Memphis shoved the redhead higher up the wall, the reporter now struggling to remain on his tiptoes, while Memphis’s tone vibrated with an anger that was almost palpable― “do we understand each other?”

“Fine, fine,” Sean squeaked out. “Just let me down.”

But Memphis didn’t budge, an angry bundle of tightly controlled energy looking for an outlet. The reporter’s face turned red from the effort of staying on his toes, effectively dwarfing Tyler’s fascination with Kick-Ass Memphis. Douchebag or not, Sean didn’t deserve death by strangulation. Public humiliation, maybe.

But not death.

“Memphis,” Tyler said in warning. When the man didn’t respond, he laid a hand on his arm and went on, his words soft but firm. “Let him go.”

After several more pounding heartbeats, Memphis released the reporter’s shirt so abruptly that Sean dropped to his feet quicker than he was prepared for. His knees sagged, and he had to brace himself against the wall to keep from collapsing.

Unfortunately his mouth didn’t seem to suffer the same fate.

“I thought you said you were impervious to the fickle ways of the press,” Sean said as he straightened to his full height.

Judas Priest. The guy didn’t know when to shut up.

“I am.” Memphis’s voice was still tight. “Until you start fucking with the ones I care about.” He stepped closer, and Sean—thank God—finally seemed to lose his ability to speak. “You’d do best to remember that.”

Without another word, Memphis pivoted on his foot and strode off.

For a moment, Tyler couldn’t move. But when the reporter walked away, Tyler slowly headed in the direction of the Jeep, contemplating the words that had pushed Memphis into action-hero mode.

You leave my ex out of this
.

But which ex? Tyler? Or Julissa? Perhaps he’d simply meant both—after all,
exes
was awkward to say out loud. And Tyler had never seen Memphis lose his temper like that, ever.

Shit.

Tyler finally rounded the vehicle as Memphis hit the toggle on the key chain, unlocking the SUV. As he opened the door and slipped into the passenger seat, Tyler’s mind struggled with the information overload. Thinking in terms of the future put everything into sharp perspective, so much so even the little things felt critical now.

Memphis dropped into the driver’s side and closed his door with a
thunk
, twisting at the waist to study him with an expression that was impossible to interpret. “Have you decided to come back to the hotel with me?”

Tyler stared at him as his heart did crazy things in his chest.