After one feverish night with Tyler Evans, Rory is never supposed to see the man draped in enigmas and devilish charms again.
Six months later, she's deep into a summer fling with Chace. As their fling becomes a committed relationship, she's adamant...
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Tyler is thirty minutes late, leaving me alone with Mr. Evans, and I arrived in a cab. In the meantime, he's shown me around the mansion again, explaining his interior arrangements for Chace's party. Caroline is out scheduling caterers and handling his gift, so she couldn't join us today. The tour is awkward but full of far less judgmental dialogue than usual. Mr. Evans actually seems like he's trying to be polite and informative. By the time Tyler arrives, dressed in a wrinkled t-shirt, cargos, and bedhead, we've gone over every relevant room in the house.
"Sorry, I'm late." His voice is dry and tired, but he meets us in the main hall with purpose in his step.
"Tyler." Mr. Evans raises his chin as he looks down at him. "Always keeping me waiting as usual."
"Let's just get this over with."
Mr. Evans' jaw locks, and he narrows his eyes. If looks could kill, Tyler would be a corpse at our feet right now. He takes us to his office where I find myself sitting in the same spot on the sofa, and Tyler keeps his distance on the other half. Mr. Evans strides over to his stash of alcohol, rolling up his sleeves on the way. "Rory, your favorite?"
"Sure." I glance at Tyler in time to see his brow arch with curiosity. His gaze touches mine for the briefest moment, but he looks away fast like I could turn him to stone. My heart sinks. This is how it's going to be between us from now on.
"Tyler?" Evans wonders as he pours me a glass. "This could be a long talk."
Tyler huffs and slouches in his seat. "Yeah."
"I'm glad the two of you could be so flexible this afternoon. It's hard to find times where Chace will be busy enough to be oblivious to the things going on around him." He offers us each a glass and goes over to his desk which is just far away enough to drive home just how uncomfortable I am with Tyler. Like I am to him, he's too much of an anomaly in my life. So much that I can only think about what he said yesterday, and practically miss everything Mr. Evans is saying to us.
"How am I going to be any help to you?" Tyler downs his glass with one tilt of his head. He licks his reddish lips and slouches even further on the sofa. "Thought you wanted your son far away from this queer man. You know, in case I spread my disease."
I look at Chace's father fast and catch his eyes narrow. He grips the edge of his desk enough to turn his knuckles white. Tension expands around us like a balloon refusing to pop, becoming overwhelming, suffocating, and all I want to ask is what the hell Tyler is talking about. Surely, his own stepfather isn't homophobic. Yet I pick apart separate occasions where Tyler mentioned struggling to come to terms with his sexuality. This rigid man in front of me could have contributed to it.
"I'm queer," I blurt and immediately hide behind my glass. "Chace is still a straight man."
Mr. Evans smiles and shakes his head as if we're being ridiculous. "Tyler had a very colorful imagination growing up. Sadly, he has a tendency of treating everyone like an enemy."
