Page 10 of The Best Parts of Him
Then pictured creepy-crawlies creepy-crawling all over him and practically flew onto his feet.
“What the fuck are you doing out here?”
Ryland wiped away tears of laughter. “Taking a piss. What else? God, I wish I’d recorded that.”
“Asshole,” Dabbs reiterated without any heat.
Chortling, Ryland pointed with his cell phone flashlight. “Your missing shoe is over there.”
Grumbling, Dabbs stooped to flip it over, then stuck his foot inside. He hadn’t even noticed he was missing it.
“I’m guessing you’re not much of an outdoorsy person.”
“I’m an outdoorsy person,” Dabbs muttered, shaking debris out of his other flip-flop. “I grew up in Northeastern Ontario. You can’t live there and not be an outdoorsy person. Not a huge fan of people sneaking up behind me in the woods in the dead of night though. Way to make a person think they’re about to be murdered with their dick hanging out.”
“Sorry,” Ryland said, though he was clearly holding back more laughter. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me. Besides, there’s nothing more dangerous in these woods than Mabel.”
“Mabel is . . . the local forest fairy?”
“Ha! No. That’d be cool though, wouldn’t it? Actually, do you want to see something cool? Come with me.” He turned, heading deeper into the forest.
His heart still not back to its normal rhythm, Dabbs followed after him, shining his flashlight in every direction. “So who’s Mabel?”
“Oh, just our local cryptid,” Ryland said, his steps heavy on the underbrush. “We call her the Maplewood Monster. She’s a tall and leafy forest creature. Jason swears he saw her in these woods when he was a kid.”
Dabbs hunched his shoulders, unable to ignore the sensation of eyes on the back of his head. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Shh.” Ryland stopped and pressed a finger to his lips. “You’ve got to be quiet,” he said softly. He crouched, pointing ahead. “Look there, in that crevice. It’s a red fox den.”
“Oh, cool,” Dabbs whispered, forgetting all about forest monsters and middle-of-the-night forest-dwelling serial killers.
He squatted next to Ryland and peered into the darkness. There, in a small mound of dirt partially covered by fallen tree branches, was a hole roughly the size of a dinner plate. He kept his flashlight pointed down so he didn’t disturb the den, but he could’ve sworn a set of bright eyes peered back at him.
“I know. Neat, right?” The awe in Ryland’s voice had Dabbs narrowing his gaze on him.
In the glow of their flashlights, he looked...unguarded. Wide-eyed, a soft smile on his lips, his arms loose by his sides.
The entranced expression on his face was the most genuine that Dabbs had ever seen him.
Ryland was always so . . . vivacious. He was gloss where others were matte, sparkle where others were dull. But although they’d played against each other for years and had attended many of the same league events, Dabbs didn’t know him very well.
He found that he wanted to. There was something about Ryland’s blunt honesty and raw zest for life that made Dabbs want to pull back Ryland’s layers.
Looking at him now, kneeling in a carpet of twigs with the wind gently ruffling the leaves overhead and an owl hooting eerily nearby, Dabbs had a feeling that Ryland might show him some of his layers if he asked.
At six feet tall, Ryland was a few inches shorter than Dabbs. His oval-shaped face with thin, pink lips and a strong nose should’ve graced the covers of magazines. His skin was perpetually the color of a summer tan; his rich brown hair tumbled around his head in loose waves, falling over his forehead; and his hazel eyes, unfathomably dark in the middle of the night, were often lit with laughter.
And the nose ring gave him an edge that was—somehow—both sexy and cute.
He was beautiful. Dabbs had always thought so. But he could be attracted to someone and not act on it.
The trouble was, he was physically attracted enough to want to act on it, and after tonight’s brief bout of flirting at the pub?
He wanted Ryland’s hands on him and his own in Ryland’s hair. He wanted to taste Ryland’s lips, press his fingertips into the divots of Ryland’s back, stick his nose in Ryland’s neck and inhale his scent.
But they couldn’t work. Ryland was flashy and loud. Thrived as the center of attention.
And Dabbs just wanted to fly under the radar as much as he could. He didn’t need his private life splashed all over social media for everyone else to dissect.
