once-over,
trying to push down the part of his brain that recoiled from deliberately
looking for hotness in his best friend. There was a freedom in looking at him.
Being given permission to really eye-lick the man was heady and nerve-racking
at the same time.
Ty was a good-looking sort. His mop of dark-brown
curls seemed irresistible to women. They were always digging their fingers in
there. His friend’s blue eyes were dark and kind of smoky. He managed to frump
around in worn, torn jeans and t-shirts with vague quotes written across the
chest, and cross-trainers. The only nod to dressing up was a thick leather
wristband that wrapped twice around and snapped closed. No spikes or special
scrolling on it. Nope. Just the natural scarring of full-time daily use to give
the band character.
He was the only guy Donovan knew who could make disheveled look like a legitimate fashion statement.
But Ty was a genius. He was an interpersonal and code
writing genius. Donovan couldn’t claim the ease his partner had in social
settings, but his own abilities on the keyboard gave Ty’s a run for their
money.
Ty wiggled his brows, clearly accepting Donovan’s silence as
admission. Which annoyed Donovan all the more.
“I’m not agreeing. I’m simply giving your point a fair
assessment,” Donovan told him.
“And your assessment is?”
“You’re completely in my league if I played for your
team,” Donovan concluded. “But since I don’t, you’re going to have to live life
without me.”
“How do you figure? How is not playing for my team any
different than our relationship ten minutes ago when you still thought I was
straight? We’re friends. You’re still in my life.”
“I’m tired of this argument.”
“Because you’re losing,” Ty answered for him. “It’s not
different. We’ll keep working on the video games the way we always have. You’ll
keep trying to find the woman who finally gets you and likes
techno-geeks. Meanwhile, I’ll keep fixing bugs and selling programs while I get
laid on the side by men who can’t keep their hands off me.”
“Wow. Just, wow. Your ego is amazing.”
“It is, right?” Ty agreed, grinning.
They both laughed because as big as Ty liked to talk, he was
about as egotistical as Donovan was, which basically meant barely at all .
Not that an outsider in their conversation would hear it that way. To someone
else it would sound as if Ty was the world’s biggest douche-bag. But then,
neither Ty nor Donovan particularly cared what the world thought. They’d just
write code to blast computerized likenesses out of the water in the next game
they created.
“About Anagram Inc.” Donovan decided that the best way to
show how not big a deal Ty’s sexuality was, would be to stop giving it
airtime. “I think we need to keep the first person point of view into the death
rally dome even after Sura bestows the gold.”
Ty’s smile widened. Donovan had no doubt that he knew what Donovan
was doing, yet Ty’s body language shifted into business mode all the same.
“Then the question becomes, do we make this an Adults Only rating or
keep it at Mature ? Sura has the potential to bestow some graphic
gratitude.”
Donovan gave an internal sigh of relief as the subject
shifted into familiar territory. Part of him felt oddly unsettled, but not in a
way he could pinpoint. He found himself looking at Ty a little differently,
deeper, wondering how Ty saw him. He’d never thought about it before. They’d
always been Ty and Donovan. Sure, they were still Ty and Donovan, but now
Donovan found himself watching how he joked and wondering if there were moments
where his business partner and friend ever looked at him as a potential fuck.
Chapter Two
The next day wasn’t any easier. Donovan felt as if his skin
didn’t fit quite right. Like the world was off-kilter and maybe if he cocked
his head at an angle it would make sense again. Only that didn’t happen.
It shouldn’t have
trying to push down the part of his brain that recoiled from deliberately
looking for hotness in his best friend. There was a freedom in looking at him.
Being given permission to really eye-lick the man was heady and nerve-racking
at the same time.
Ty was a good-looking sort. His mop of dark-brown
curls seemed irresistible to women. They were always digging their fingers in
there. His friend’s blue eyes were dark and kind of smoky. He managed to frump
around in worn, torn jeans and t-shirts with vague quotes written across the
chest, and cross-trainers. The only nod to dressing up was a thick leather
wristband that wrapped twice around and snapped closed. No spikes or special
scrolling on it. Nope. Just the natural scarring of full-time daily use to give
the band character.
He was the only guy Donovan knew who could make disheveled look like a legitimate fashion statement.
But Ty was a genius. He was an interpersonal and code
writing genius. Donovan couldn’t claim the ease his partner had in social
settings, but his own abilities on the keyboard gave Ty’s a run for their
money.
Ty wiggled his brows, clearly accepting Donovan’s silence as
admission. Which annoyed Donovan all the more.
“I’m not agreeing. I’m simply giving your point a fair
assessment,” Donovan told him.
“And your assessment is?”
“You’re completely in my league if I played for your
team,” Donovan concluded. “But since I don’t, you’re going to have to live life
without me.”
“How do you figure? How is not playing for my team any
different than our relationship ten minutes ago when you still thought I was
straight? We’re friends. You’re still in my life.”
“I’m tired of this argument.”
“Because you’re losing,” Ty answered for him. “It’s not
different. We’ll keep working on the video games the way we always have. You’ll
keep trying to find the woman who finally gets you and likes
techno-geeks. Meanwhile, I’ll keep fixing bugs and selling programs while I get
laid on the side by men who can’t keep their hands off me.”
“Wow. Just, wow. Your ego is amazing.”
“It is, right?” Ty agreed, grinning.
They both laughed because as big as Ty liked to talk, he was
about as egotistical as Donovan was, which basically meant barely at all .
Not that an outsider in their conversation would hear it that way. To someone
else it would sound as if Ty was the world’s biggest douche-bag. But then,
neither Ty nor Donovan particularly cared what the world thought. They’d just
write code to blast computerized likenesses out of the water in the next game
they created.
“About Anagram Inc.” Donovan decided that the best way to
show how not big a deal Ty’s sexuality was, would be to stop giving it
airtime. “I think we need to keep the first person point of view into the death
rally dome even after Sura bestows the gold.”
Ty’s smile widened. Donovan had no doubt that he knew what Donovan
was doing, yet Ty’s body language shifted into business mode all the same.
“Then the question becomes, do we make this an Adults Only rating or
keep it at Mature ? Sura has the potential to bestow some graphic
gratitude.”
Donovan gave an internal sigh of relief as the subject
shifted into familiar territory. Part of him felt oddly unsettled, but not in a
way he could pinpoint. He found himself looking at Ty a little differently,
deeper, wondering how Ty saw him. He’d never thought about it before. They’d
always been Ty and Donovan. Sure, they were still Ty and Donovan, but now
Donovan found himself watching how he joked and wondering if there were moments
where his business partner and friend ever looked at him as a potential fuck.
Chapter Two
The next day wasn’t any easier. Donovan felt as if his skin
didn’t fit quite right. Like the world was off-kilter and maybe if he cocked
his head at an angle it would make sense again. Only that didn’t happen.
It shouldn’t have
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