Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

his hand and Scott, being the bigger man, smiled—using both sides of his mouth—before taking Devon's hand in a slow, hard shake. "Nice to meet you, Devastation . Eddie is apparently a big fan." He couldn't help the little sneer that accompanied Devon's new name or the inflection of sarcasm that wrapped around the word. "Thanks for meeting with us."
    "No problem. I try to keep in touch with my fans."
    "I'll bet you do," Scott said, smile still firmly stamped on his lips. "Interesting… music you guys play."
    "Thanks. Not your thing I take it?"
    Scott snorted, hoping his outside demeanor was smoother and less flaily than his inside one. "I'm more of a jazz guy myself."
    "S-man listens to really boring stuff," Eddie said. "Do you think I could get a picture with you, Devastation?"
    "Please call me Dev, and of course, Eddie. Do you have a cell phone we can use?"
    "My mom wouldn't let me bring mine but we can use S-man's, right?"
    Scott nodded, all business and happiness rolled into one fake ball of God-I-want-to-throw-up. "Sure. You guys arrange yourselves and I'll take it."
    He watched his nephew fawn over his former boyfriend/lover/fuck buddy, ignoring the way Devon's t-shirt hugged his body, the slim, fitted cut of his jeans. Devon's hair was wet and he'd changed out of his stage clothes, but the unmistakable scent of his shampoo, his soap, and his own personal sweat still hung precariously in the air. Scott snuck a quick whiff, his mouth salivating, eyes blurring momentarily as the fragrance buzzed and licked its way through his body. He needed a cold shower, but even the thought of his bathroom at home brought dirty images of Devon in his shower doing delightfully dirty things to him.
    "Okay, we're ready." Eddie's voice floated around Scott's thoughts. "Is this okay?"
    Devon had his arm around Eddie, the boy's face seemingly about to crack from the huge grin he had going on. His body was tucked into Devon's, blond head only reaching Devon's chest. "It's good."
    Fishing his cell phone out of his pocket, Scott lined up the shot, the thought of having a picture of Devon saved on his phone niggling at his brain a little. He'd never taken a picture of Devon before, despite their four months together and the temptation on those mornings when he'd been sleeping so adorably. The flash went off and he clicked the picture to check it while Eddie appeared at his side.
    "It's too far away. Can't you zoom or something?"
    "Just move in closer," Devon suggested, cocky-assed smirk and double dimples glaring Scott in the face. "I don't bite."
    Scott knew for a fact he did. "Sure. Get back over there, Eddie."
    He moved a few steps forward, centering the pair in the little screen. He noticed Devon had the tell-tale smudges of eyeliner still framing his eyes, something Scott had never noticed when he'd come to his place. He must have been sure to scrub off all the evidence before he landed his lying ass on Scott's doorstep. One click and the picture was done, Eddie approving the shot, and then moving to get Devon's autograph on the inside of what Scott could see was a fake leather jacket.
    "Hey, Marshall," Devon said. "Why don't you take Eddie to meet the rest of the guys?"
    "Really?" Eddie gasped while Scott groaned inside—he hoped it was only internally.
    "Sure. They hate it when I get all the attention. Your uncle can hang with me while you're gone. Marshall will give you the tour." Devon grinned from ear to ear, both dimples showing but the smile not reaching his eyes. Scott was taken aback by the suggestion and the look on Devon's face. If it was a challenge, he was ready as hell to meet it.
    "You don't wanna meet the other guys, S-man?" Eddie asked, ever the polite child Scott knew he would soon grow out of.
    "I'm okay. Marshall mentioned that Devastation needed some advice on his taxes. I'll see you in a bit."
    Eddie nodded before following Marshall out the door. They shut it behind them and the room was instantly stony silent, the tension palpable, like a thick invisible fog threatening to choke them both, or at least Scott. He watched, arms crossed over his chest, feet shoulder width apart, head held high as Devon sat forward in his chair.
    "How've you been?"
    Scott's mouth dropped open. "That's all you have to say to me? How've I been?"
    Devon scoffed. "It's called a conversation starter. I was trying to be polite."
    "I think you blew polite the fuck up when you lied to me for four months."
    "I didn't lie. I omitted.