Page 65 of Saving the Rockstar

Mason's lips twitched, his eyes glinting with a hint of mirth. "Maybe I just don't find you particularly amusing," he said, his voice dry as dust. "Ever think of that, rock star?"

Dylan gasped, his hand flying to his chest in a gesture of mock outrage. "You take that back!" he cried, his voice rising to a near-shriek. "I am hilarious, damn it. A comedic genius, a master of wit and timing and..."

"A delusional idiot with an overinflated ego?" Mason finished, his eyebrows raising in challenge.

Dylan sputtered, his cheeks flushing a deep, angry red. "I will have you know," he said, his voice shaking with indignation, "that I have been called many things in my life, but an idiot is not one of them. I am a scholar, a philosopher, a..."

"A drama queen with a tenuous grasp on reality?" Mason supplied, his lips twitching with barely suppressed laughter.

And on and on they went, trading insults and barbs with a speed and dexterity that left Jared and I breathless with laughter.

But even in the midst of their bickering, there was an undercurrent of affection that was impossible to miss, a warmth and a fondness that belied their harsh words and sharp tongues.

It was there in the way Dylan's eyes softened when Mason let out a rare, genuine laugh, his face transforming into something almost beautiful in its unguarded joy. It was there in the way Mason's hand lingered just a moment too long on Dylan's shoulder when he reached across the table to steal a fry from his plate, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of Dylan's neck in a gesture that was almost tender.

And it was there in the way they orbited each other like twin stars, their bodies always angled towards one another, their gazes always seeking out the other's across the crowded diner.

It was a dance that continued long after we had paid our bill and stepped out into the humid night air, Dylan and Mason still sniping at each other as we made our way back to the hotel, their shoulders bumping and their hands brushing with every step.

The club was loud and crowded, the bass thumping through the soles of my feet as I navigated the sea of writhing bodies on the dance floor. Beside me, Dylan was in his element, his hips swaying to the beat as he threw his head back and laughed, the neon lights painting his face in shades of blue, green and purple.

I noticed a figure pushing through the crowd towards us, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a predatory glint in his eye and a swagger in his step. He sidled up to Dylan, his hand reaching out to brush against his arm in a gesture that was just a little too presumptuous.

"Hey there, gorgeous," he drawled, his American accent thick and cloying over the pounding music. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing all alone in a place like this?"

Dylan stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he took a step back, his body language screaming discomfort and unease.

"I'm not alone," he said, his voice cold and clipped. "I'm here with my friends. And I'm not interested, thanks."

But the man was undeterred, his grin widening as he leaned in closer, his breath hot and heavy against Dylan's cheek.

"Aw, come on now," he cooed, his fingers trailing up Dylan's arm in a way that made my skin crawl. "Don't be like that, sweetheart. I'm just trying to be friendly, is all. Why don't you let me buy you a drink, and we can get to know each other a little better?"

I could see Dylan's jaw clench, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he tried to back away, his eyes darting around the club in search of an escape route.

But before he could make a move, Mason was there, his tall frame looming over the man as he stepped between him and Dylan, his eyes flashing with a kind of cold, controlled fury.

"Hey, buddy," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I think you need to back off. My boyfriend's not interested, and you're making him uncomfortable."

The man blinked, his mouth falling open in surprise as he took in the sight of Mason, his gaze raking over hismuscular frame and chiseled features with a kind of grudging appreciation.

"My bad, man. No hard feelings, yeah?" he said, his voice dripping with skepticism.

But Mason wasn't having it, his jaw clenching as he took a step forward, his body radiating a kind of coiled, barely-contained violence that made the other man take an involuntary step back.

"I said, back off," he growled, his hand coming up to rest on Dylan's lower back in a gesture that was both possessive and protective. "Or we're going to have a problem, you and me."

The man held up his hands in a gesture of mock surrender, his eyes wide and his smile just a little too tight around the edges.

"Alright," he said, his voice strained and nervous. "I can take a hint. No need to get all worked up, man. I was just trying to be friendly, is all."

Mason snorted, his eyes narrowing as he pulled Dylan closer to his side, his arm wrapping around his waist in a gesture that was both tender and fiercely protective.

"Yeah, well, maybe next time you should try being friendly to someone who's actually interested," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Now, if you'll excuse us, my boyfriend and I have some dancing to do."

And with that, he spun Dylan around and pulled him flush against his chest, his lips crashing down on his in a kiss that was as passionate as it was unexpected.

For a moment, Dylan seemed to freeze, his eyes wide with shock and his body stiff with surprise. But then, slowly, his hands came up to tangle in Mason's hair, his lips parting and histongue darting out to tangle with Mason's own in a dance that was as old as time itself.

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