Page 3 of Weston & Cyrus
The walk had given me enough space that I was slightly less pissed and definitely less turned on, but confusion and frustration were settling in. I really didn’t like either of those emotions and had to fight the urge to let my drama take over as well.
“Are you two done?” Done losing their shit? Done bitching? Done putting on a show for everyone in the club lounge? “Here’s the water you didn’t need.”
Conner rolled his eyes but took the bottle of water gracefully. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” After pleasantries had been exchanged and most people had stopped watching their performance, I sighed. “And?”
Conner folded his arms over his chest, making the suit thing even more distracting. “And Cyrus has something to tell you.”
I couldn’t decide if Cyrus wanted to roll his eyes or start arguing with Conner again, but after a few moments, he nodded slowly. “I asked Conner for help with something and it…it seems to have blended in a bit too much with whatever you were talking to him about. So he wasn’t trying to overshare. It was an accident.”
How?
Just how?
Nope.
“Fine.” That didn’t mean I was going to ask any questions, though. “Dinner?”
Food would hopefully sound good by the time we got to the restaurant. At the moment, my stomach was rebelling and didn’t like the stress it couldn’t explain. Ignoring things I didn’t want to address was my superpower, though, so I turned to Conner. “Can we leave my car here until we’re done with dinner?”
It was kind of rude, but there’d been plenty of parking earlier, so I wasn’t surprised when he nodded. “I owe you that at the very least.”
“Nah, we’re good.” Because otherwise I’d have to ask questions…or worse…self-reflect.
Conner gave me a skeptical look like he knew what I was thinking but he didn’t directly call me out on it. “You guys need to talk. Desperately. And before I’ll let you do anything else interesting here.”
Fuck.
Did he actually have a reason for driving me crazy?
I wasn’t poking that with even a fifty-foot pole, so I ignored it and turned to Cyrus. “Let’s go.”
I needed carbs and dessert to make up for not getting anything I’d come to the club for and for getting my fantasies dashed with reality.
“Sure.” Cyrus seemed content to leave but he wasn’t big on confrontation, so that didn’t surprise me. For a Dom, he was the least aggressive guy I’d ever met, but Doms came in all flavors like subs did. I simply had to keep reminding myself that my flavor wasn’t as fucked as I imagined it was sometimes. “Let’s go.”
Yep, just two buddies hanging out.
Nothing odd going on.
No weird conversations.
No possible oversharing.
No having to explain why humiliation turned me on or why I wanted someone to watch me.
Nope.
Nothing odd at all.
“God. It’s painful.” Shaking his head, Conner decided to go back to full drama queen mode and marched off through thelounge. I had a feeling he was going to track down his Dom, the other owner of the club, and I was glad I didn’t have to stay around for that.
I wasn’t sure if he needed a punishment or a hug, but it was definitely not my problem.
“I think I’m going to get the alfredo.” I was more than ready to shift the conversation as we headed toward the front of the building, but Cyrus had the nerve to sigh.
For fuck’s sake.
