After a Friday morning of putting out metaphorical fires for very real customers, Adrian itched to get the hell out of the office for lunch. Seemed everyone had the same idea, because most of the cubes he passed were empty, their occupants already having fled into a summer day that wasn’t hellishly hot for a change.
The weekend was nearly here, thank god. His work with the Brada team had been grueling and infuriating. The code was a disaster, and he’d worked late the previous night, even coming back to the office after snagging a beer with Jackson to get on top of it.
Today? He was gonna slack a little today.
He grabbed some kebabs from a nearby cart and ate while wandering up into Tribeca. While he preferred meandering through independent bookstores, he ended up in one of the big corporate types, along with a mix of tourists, students, and people who worked in the area. The new releases didn’t hold too much interest, but the magazines caught his eye. Sometimes they had good literature journals. And maybe there was some kind of history magazine he could buy for Dominic.
Worth a look.
Of course, they lumped all the arts together on the bottom shelves, so he ended up on his knees, sorting through some popular movie and music magazines to find what he was wanted. He picked out a few poetry journals and found a magazine on archeology. Perfect.
Right before he rose, a swirl of color half-hidden behind some drumming magazine caught his attention. It was a tattooed arm, so like Dominic’s he nearly dropped the magazines in his hand. But it couldn’t be.
Except...the more Adrian stared, the more he realized the tattoo wasn’t similar.
It was Dominic’s arm, down to the knot-work on that shoulder. Had to be. Adrian knew every line and curve. Had traced them all with finger and tongue. He fished the magazine—one on rock music—out, and a band stared back at him.
Twisted Wishes. A group photo of the four members of the band, all of them in various poses.
And there were Dominic’s tattoos on a guy who didn’t look like the sweet, bookish man he talked about poetry with and took to museums and art galleries. Nor the man he’d fed cake and pie and ice cream. This man was shirtless and in leather pants. His dark eyes were surrounded by makeup, and that smirk was crimson red. But the designs on his skin—those were inked into the man Adrian fucked and loved and bound. The man who kept secrets and had fear in those same dark eyes when Adrian dug a little too deep.
Adrian’s heart tumbled over and over and over. This was the answer, what he’d been waiting for Dominic to tell him, except now he knew.
He’d been dating a fucking rock star all this time and hadn’t known it. Been ignorant and foolish.
Something like anger zinged through him, and then embarrassment. He didn’t keep up with the music scene, hadn’t in years, and Dominic had walked in and taken every advantage of that.
Adrian gathered the magazines he’d collected, plus the one with Dominic on the cover, and took them to the counter to pay. On the walk back to his office, numbness set in. Why hadn’t Dominic told him? That tumbled around in his head, along with an image of Dominic from that rare moment the Sunday after their trip to the Met. Dom with his acoustic guitar, playing it inches from Adrian, after having tangled in the sheets. The gentle, beautiful sound, and that poised edge he’d had, eyes hooded, fingers moving like magic over the strings. The calm, centered look he’d had, the one that had melted into both joy and sadness when he’d smiled at Adrian.
There was more to this than deception. There had to be.
On the way back to his cube, he passed Jackson’s, then backed up. “Hey, Jack?”
His friend started, hands poised on the keyboard. “Yeah? What’s up?” His eyes were a little wider than normal, and there was a darker spot just under his collar—a bruise that hadn’t been there this morning.
“You, uh, have a good lunch?”
A smile broke out that Adrian hadn’t ever seen on Jackson before—at least not as wide and as sappy as this one. “Yeah. I did.”
“Anyone special?”
Jackson laughed. “You know, I finally checked out that place you and everyone’s been bugging me to try a couple of weeks ago. You were right.”
“Good jazz?”
“Great jazz. And a very fine gentleman who is tired of the club scene, as well. And yes, same man from earlier, and yes, it’s serious.” Jackson’s grin was brilliant.
“How about that.” So, his best friend had finally found a guy worth seeing more than once. About time. Adrian chuckled, but it mixed with the jolt of pain in his stomach over the man he’d found. “I’m glad for you.”
“You didn’t just stop by to ask me about my hickey, Adi. What’s up?”
“I wanted to ask you about a band—I figure you know music better than I do.” He gestured to Jackson’s phone. It wasn’t on now, but half the time Jackson would be nodding along to some song or another. And his tastes went all across the board. Classical. R&B. Pop. Swing. Country. Rap. You named it, he’d probably listened to it—and had an opinion, one based on knowledge and taste.
Jackson swiveled in his chair. “Hit me up. Which band?”
“Twisted Wishes.”
“Oh, them. Fuck, they’re good. A little strange in places, like they can never decide if they want to be alternative or heavy metal or pop or punk, but man, really doesn’t matter.” Jackson scratched his chin, exposing more of his love bite. “They were in the news a ton recently. Sued their label to get out of their contract—and there was a whole police thing, too. Apparently their manager put the lead singer in the hospital with anaphylaxis by drugging him.”
“Holy shit.” Adrian gripped the side of the cube wall. This was in Dominic’s past?
“Anyway, they signed with a new label and are supposed to be working on a new album right here in New York. There’s been photos of them out on the town and everyone’s trying to get into the studio where they’re at.”
Adrian nodded. A new album jived with Dominic talking about practices with his band. But why the subterfuge? Why not tell Adrian about this?
“What’s your interest? I mean, they’re an extraordinarily queer band, but you don’t do rock, at least not anything from the last decade or two. You’re not gonna be hearing Twisted Wishes at the clubs.”
“Wait, what? Queer?”
Jackson stared at him, eyes a little wider. “You don’t know anything about them, do you?” Adrian might as well have asked Jackson to program in Cobalt or something—complete shock and disbelief were all over his face. Though, knowing Jack, give him a fifteen-minute primer on Cobalt, and he’d be able to program in the language. Still.
Adrian knew he was blushing. Felt the heat of it. “No. I might have heard some songs in passing if they’re that popular, but...” He leaned against the cube frame. “Do you mean queer as in...” He waved his hand between the two of them. That would also jive with Dominic.
“Yes, exactly. Their lead singer has been openly gay since day one, and he up and married their drummer. That dude’s pansexual, according to the interviews. Everyone thinks the bass player is bi, since she’s been seen with men and women. No one really knows anything about Domino, but I’m betting he’s gay, too.”
Felt like spiders were walking up his spine. “Who’s Domino?” The words were out of his mouth even as he knew the answer.
“The guitarist. He’s wicked talented—I mean, they all are, Adi—but Domino plays like he could rule the world. Dresses like he wants to give everyone the finger.”
Dominic. His lovely bookish man. Not at all the image in his mind. Though...there’d always been that spark, that steel behind the shyness and blushing. And that meshed with the cover of the magazine.
“Why’re you asking, anyway? Though, to be honest, you might like them.”
Adrian’s mind whirled, trying to slot in what he was learning with his reality. His limbs felt like lead. “I saw them on the cover of a magazine and they caught my eye.” He shook his head. “I was looking for poetry.” For Dominic. Only to find the man he knew was not the man he knew at all.
“Well, they are all beautiful people, yeah. But you ought to listen to their lyrics, given your interests. Ray Van Zeller writes some stunning words. And the music.” Jackson let out a satisfied sigh. “I like ’em.” He glanced as his smartphone. “Give ’em a shot.”
“Yeah, I might.” Adrian patted the cube wall. “Thanks.”
“Hey, no problem.”
He headed back to his own cube, dropped the bag of magazines on his desk, and sat down. Dominic had planned to come over tonight. A late dinner out, which also meant passionate sex and sleeping in with Dominic next to him—one of his very favorite things. But now? He rubbed his face as his stomach knotted. How was he going to do this?
Yes, secrets. But this—he looked at where the magazines lay in their plastic shopping bag—wasn’t a secret. Dominic was a fucking well-known, gossiped-about rock star.
The rest of the day was pretty much a wash. He struggled to get his damn code to compile until he realized William had been mucking around in his lines again. Every time that man tried to “fix” a bug, he introduced six more. And now he was creeping around in two of Adrian’s projects, one of which Adrian didn’t even want.
It was fucking hell.
All the time, that cover photo of Twisted Wishes—and of Dominic—sat in the bag on his desk, taunting him, daring him to look to see what he didn’t know and everyone else did. Finally, after yet another attempt to fix his damn code, he fired off an email to William, copied their boss, and sat back hard against his chair, rocking it in frustration. Any other day, he could probably untangle the mess William had made, but his own head was tattered and shredded.
He reached over and slid out the rock magazine, and there was his Dominic again, except not his Dominic at all. Leather and makeup and a freaking studded collar.
And he’d been so amazed when Adrian had wrapped leather around his wrists. Tied him down. Had that been a lie? Acting innocent to get what he wanted? Moisture pricked at Adrian’s eyes again, along with a fury that stoked up a headache.
None of this made any sense!
He took a breath, then another, and pushed his emotions aside—as much as he could—and studied the other band members. Jackson had been right. They were all beautiful in their own way.
Their names were inscribed under their photos. Ray Van Zeller, dark blond hair with wide golden eyes, ripped blue jeans and a tank top that could easily be stripped off. He looked like he might walk right through the page into the room. Behind him must have been Ray’s drummer husband, given the sticks in his hands. He, like Dominic, was covered in ink. Brown leather pants, no shirt. Muscular arms, black hair, and eyes that couldn’t possibly be that blue. Zavier Demos.
Why did that name sound familiar? Looked a little familiar, too. Adrian shook his head, and turned his attention past Dominic to Mish, the red-haired woman on the far right. She stood taller than the guys and wore tight jeans and a top that clung to her perfectly. She had a smile that tingled Adrian’s nerves, as if she could stare through the page and read his mind. God, the presence in that look.
At last, he came back to Dominic. The name read Domino Grinder and Adrian swallowed a chuckle. It sounded—well—made up. Which, obviously, it had been.
They all wore makeup to some degree, though Domino’s was so much more evident than any of his bandmates. In this photo, he had black lips, and eyeliner, starkly different from the cover of the magazine. The eye shadow was gold and his hair had been spiked and teased up, rather than the soft feathery mess Adrian was used to.
No bowties. No button-downs.
Same eyes, though. Dark and strong. And that smirk—he’d seen that a few dozen times. He touched Dominic’s face on the magazine, then flipped it open to find the article.
The text swam in his vision. Right, so he wasn’t going to be able to read it. Not yet. The photos, though, he could look at. Most were studio shots, obviously staged, and they all looked perfect and utterly untouchable. Still, there was something about Dominic that was fierce and full of energy, despite the white backdrop.
There were also some shots from concerts, and those Adrian stared at. Because they were real and visceral and he could almost feel, hear, and taste the crowd, the music.
And he wouldn’t have known a Twisted Wishes song if it hit him in the head.
In the heat of the concert, they all looked magnificent. Drenched in sweat, but so full of passion and life that, either by movement or a trick of the camera, they were streaked at the edges.
There was Dominic in the center of it all, flesh and leather and metal, with a flame-red guitar, makeup still perfect despite the dots of perspiration on his face. His fingers were blurred on the guitar strings, and he looked like he’d been caught in a moment of dancing.
Despite the outfit and the hair and how different he looked at first glance, Adrian would have known that look of sheer bliss anywhere. Same grin he’d seen at the museum when playing that old instrument. Same blissed-out expression Adrian had seen in his bed—only ramped up about one thousand percent.
The utter joy and passion and fire. He’d seen those, too.
Adrian shivered, then closed the magazine. Here was Dominic’s secret life, the one he hadn’t been willing to share, not with the man he’d been sharing everything else with.
The hollow feeling in Adrian’s gut turned to burning. He hadn’t asked for every piece of Dominic. That would have been unfair and toxic. But this side—this Dominic had shared with the world. His utter passion, his life’s work. And he’d kept it from Adrian, like a dirty, scandalous secret.
Or, a horrible voice whispered in the back of his mind, maybe you’re the secret he keeps from the world. Adrian swallowed against that thought.
Well, one way or another, tonight the truth would come out.
He set the magazine aside again, and tried desperately to lose himself in coding.
* * *
Friday rocked, literally. The band was a few weeks away from their concert and working up the set list, discussing which songs, new and old, they’d play. There were a couple different options, and they worked through a few combos to see how songs sounded, how they could transition and blend into the new ones.
Felt so fucking right, for all of them. Ray pranced around the studio, and Mish was a ball of energy. Even Zavier—often a rock—was full of grins and playfulness. He’d even drawn Ray close and whispered something into his ear before kissing him. A rare display of affection for Zavier, and one that seemed to push Ray even higher in energy levels.
When they played, the room filled with sound, vibrating through Dom, setting his soul right.
To add to all of that...tonight he’d tell Adrian about Twisted Wishes, about Domino, and he’d ask Adrian to come to a practice and maybe be there at the concert to watch Dom play. To be a part of this life, too—one that was public for everyone else, but secret to Adrian.
He’d worked hard to keep the resolve to open up to Adrian tonight, despite the fear and the voice in the back of his head telling him how foolish the idea was. Talking to Mish, Zavier, and Ray at their practices helped, too, even if he had fucked up on Wednesday. He could have said something then, but he hadn’t been ready yet.
He was now. He hoped.
Yeah, they’d have to talk about how Dom kept the life Adrian knew out of the public eye, but like Zavier had implied, Dom could trust Adrian.
Had, and with more than his heart. Those times on his knees or tied up—Adrian never ever took advantage. Had always sought consent. Never pressured for anything, not even when Dom screwed up and said something about the band. Asked, sure. But never insisted.
His demands were always in what Dom realized were scenes—those moments when they both acted out roles for each other’s pleasure and need. When Dom submitted and Adrian took control.
But they also existed outside that dynamic, too. Friends and lovers. Reading partners. Museum hoppers. Boyfriends.
He really hoped Adrian would be okay with dating someone whose public persona was nearly always in the limelight.
The hope was there, buoyed by Zavier’s smile and his clap on the back, and Mish’s and Ray’s hugs.
“Hey,” Ray said. “You know you can call me anytime with anything, right? Just like always.”
Dom patted his best friend’s—his near-brother’s—cheek. “Yeah. I know, I just hate talking to you about the sex stuff.”
Ray made a face. “Ditto.”
They both laughed. As close as they were, there were a few lines they didn’t cross.
Dom headed back to his place first, to shower and change into something a little nicer. Classy pastel-red button-down, paired with a blue jewel-tone bowtie. Tan slacks rather than jeans, and a pair of brick-red dress shoes he’d spotted the other day. They matched his shirt nicely. He picked out a bottle of wine from his collection—something to drink later in the weekend, for when they ate in.
He fucking loved when Adrian cooked for them.
During the walk to Adrian’s, his heart was in his throat and his mind spun. He so wanted this to go well. He needed this to go well.
Ten minutes later, he climbed the steps and rang the bell.
As soon as Adrian answered the door, Dom knew something was horribly wrong. Yes, Adrian was dressed in one of his nicer dress shirts, sans tie, and his finer suit pants, but there was a remoteness that had never been in his expression before, not in all the weeks Dom had known Adrian. His gaze held no warmth, and his expression was masklike rather than full of joy and laughter. It was as if a wall had been built between them since Wednesday night, the last time they’d seen each other in person.
But there had been nothing remote in Adrian’s voice last night on the phone. He’d been dirty and wonderful, whispering wicked thing until Dom had spilled himself all over his chest, then sweet and gentle when they’d finished their goodnights.
“Hello, Dominic.” Cool words. No smile.
Oh shit. This was bad. Dom had no idea what it was, but something awful had happened. Or was about to. He replayed all their recent interactions, but aside from Wednesday, when he’d deflected conversation about the band, he came up empty. That couldn’t be it, could it?
“Hey.” Dom gripped the bag with the bottle of wine he’d brought. “Can I come in?”
Adrian nodded, and stepped away from the door. No hug, no kiss. He just—walked down the hall.
Dom’s heart thudded against his ribs. So so so not good. Fear bit in hard. This—this was the motions of a breakup. Oh god. He closed the front door and latched it, then made his way to the living room. Adrian stood by one of the chairs, his hand resting on the cushioned back. He stared at Dom, sad eyes roaming over him for a moment before they focused on the coffee table.
Dom followed his gaze and recognized the magazine that lay there. His stomach lurched and the bag slipped from his hand, the wine bottle hitting the rug with a thunk. Everything in Dom’s vision tunneled down to that cover.
Twisted Wishes. Domino. Adrian knew. He knew.
He’d found out before Dom had had a chance to tell him. Explain things. Ask for him to keep Dom’s secret. Who knew who Adrian had told? Had he? Fuck. The press would have a field day. Be on his doorstep.
Oh god, he was gonna puke. Or have a heart attack. His chest heaved and it took every effort to rip his focus from the magazine to meet Adrian’s eyes.
“So.” Adrian spoke coolly and calmly, as one might talk to a stranger. “Who are you really?”
Shit. Dom really was going to throw up. He pressed a hand over his mouth and swallowed a bunch of times, trying to quell his stomach and heart. When the awful acid taste lessened, he lowered it and answered. “I’m who I said I was.” Because that was the truth, too. “I’m Dominic Bradley.”
“And yet...” Adrian nodded at the coffee table.
Yeah. “I’m him, too. Domino Grinder.” The name sounded harsh and wrong in the mess Dom’s voice had become.
Fire and itching crept along his skin, and he fought against the growing panic. But this was worse than he’d been in the studio. This wasn’t unfounded fears—this was real.
Silence stretched between them for a very long time, and little cracks and fissures formed in Adrian’s expression. The wavering stance, the way his lips quivered when he took a breath. Worst, though, was the hissing pain when he whispered, “Were you ever going to tell me? Or wasn’t I good enough to trust?”
The irony struck Dom like a knife to the side. “Tonight.” He should have been crying, but no tears came, just that overwhelming sense of dread and fear. It built and built, cracking his bones and dissolving his organs. He blinked a few times and everything turned wrong. “That was the plan.” He shook his head. “I’m so sorry. I should have said something sooner, but...”
God, he needed to hold it together. He hadn’t wanted to be rejected by Adrian, and he’d needed to find a way to exist as both Dominic and Domino, which he still hadn’t. Then he’d fallen in love. So foolish he’d been to wait. Trust went both ways, didn’t it?
Or had it been completely reckless to believe he could have two lives he loved at the same time?
Maybe he could live without love. His heart wrenched in his chest and his lungs tried to flay themselves.
“But you didn’t. You didn’t say anything at all. Kept pushing me away.” The tears that should have been in Dom’s eyes were collecting in Adrian’s. “I waited and waited, Dominic. How could you...” His voice shredded and broke.
Dom picked up the paper bag with the bottle of wine and set it on the coffee table, next to the magazine. “I don’t get the chance to be me—really me—very often.” Finally, the tears he felt pricked at his eyes. “I was just enjoying the time...”
It was then the whole realization caught up and his breath gave out. He was losing this. Losing Adrian. Losing a part of himself—because he could never go back to being Dominic, not like this.
And there was nothing keeping Adrian from telling anyone who he really was. He shook his head as his lungs squeezed shut and his pulse hammered up, a staccato beat that was too fast and too broken. “Fuck, Adrian. Please don’t tell...”
If the public knew, then there’d be nothing left of Dominic anymore. Only Domino. Except, Domino? He wouldn’t exist, either. No one would believe his nerdy ass was a tough-as-nails, sexy, flippant rocker.
Where would that leave the band? Or him? Who would he be without Twisted Wishes?
Fuck, everything was done. Over. His legs shook and melted, and his vision tunneled as blackness closed in and the coffee table suddenly became a lot closer than it should have been.
Strong arms wrapped around him and hauled him away from the table and he fell backward. When he could catch air a little again, he was sitting on the floor and was wrapped in Adrian’s arms, but everything hurt, his pulse was sky-high, and his chest felt like it would seize up any minute.
He was going to pass out. Maybe that would be better. Yeah. Shit. Couldn’t even do that right. His gut tried to rebel.
“Dominic, breathe.” Adrian’s strong voice. “Breathe.”
He couldn’t. Not now. Not ever. Oh god, what would he tell Ray? There should have been more tears, but he couldn’t stop trembling.
This time, Adrian’s voice cracked. “Babe, please. One deep breath. For me.”
The distress in those words. Babe. Well, he could try. Dom sucked in a breath and exhaled.
“Can you do another?”
He could. And another and another. His vision cleared and the tightness in his chest loosened. Still ached all over, and his heart still threatened to burst from his chest.
“I’m sorry.” Sorry he’d sat in that bar. Sorry he loved Adrian so much. Sorry he hadn’t said anything sooner. Hadn’t opened up and shared like Adrian had.
Fuck, Adrian’s family had abandoned him. And now what the hell was Dom doing? Didn’t even know. Nothing made sense in the jumbled mess of his head.
“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” Slowly, Adrian unwrapped himself from Dom.
Didn’t feel right to be alone, though. He didn’t want to be alone anymore. Dom closed his eyes.
Warm fingers brushed his cheeks. “Would you like a blanket? Water?”
Why was Adrian being so damn nice? Dom nodded because both of those sounded reasonable. And a quiet part of his mind whispered that he needed comfort. A safe place to recover.
He heard Adrian withdraw, and blinked open his eyes to stare at the rug.
Yeah, things were getting better. Shit. He hadn’t had a panic attack this bad since high school. Oh wow. Still—his cover was blown. What the hell was he supposed to do now? What had Adrian done?
Adrian returned with a thick, soft fleece throw and draped it over Dom’s shoulders. “Ice or no?”
Dom pulled the blanket tight around him, securing the world a little more. He’d always liked to be wrapped up. Covered. Bound.
Huh.
Strange what you realized sometimes when your mind was going in circles really fast. “Um. Can I have tea, maybe? Herbal or decaf or something.” He looked up and met Adrian’s gaze. “If that’s okay?”
“Babe, I’ll get you anything you need.”
That didn’t make sense. “I lied to you, Adrian.”
A pinched expression crossed Adrian’s face. “You didn’t, actually. But let’s shelve that conversation for a little while?”
Because Dom was sitting tightly wrapped in a blanket after nearly passing out, after wanting to throw up his heart and lungs and stomach onto the rug. That made sense.
He exhaled. “Fuck,” he whispered, and pulled the fleece up over his head. “Shit.”
“I’ll make you something. Hang on.” Adrian padded away, his footsteps light against the rug, then wood.
Dom didn’t know which was worse, being in the middle of panicking, when he couldn’t breathe and thought he might explode, or the trembling afterward when the shame and self-flagellation kicked in. Should probably find a counselor or someone, ’cause his coping mechanisms were like fifteen years out of date and he felt like a goddamned fool breaking apart like that.
Fucking tears finally came, and he was shaking and weeping by the time Adrian returned with a mug that smelled of mint and honey. He sat right down on the floor next to Dom.
“Hey, babe. Here you go.”
The mug warmed his hand when he claimed it from Adrian, and a sip warmed his mouth and throat. Another loosened the knot in his chest a little. “I’m a mess.”
“No. You’re human.”
Silence settled between them as Dom drank and blinked and let the tears dry up. Finally, he held the mug and asked the question he’d been dreading. “Who did you tell? About me being Domino?”
Adrian fiddled with the toe of his sock and raised both eyebrows. “No one. I didn’t tell anyone.”
A little chunk of panic fell away, to be replaced by a small pebble of shame. “Oh.”
Adrian was still pulling at the material at his toes, bunching and twisting it. “It’s not my secret to tell and—” His voiced dropped, and he nearly pulled the sock off his foot. “I shouldn’t have gotten upset like that.”
Dom rotated the mug in his hand. “Once I’m more coherent, I’ll go.”
Adrian stilled. “You don’t have to.”
Except he’d lied. He’d hidden who he was. “I broke your trust.” There wasn’t any coming back from that. He turned the mug in his hand again and sipped. “I—probably should have said no that first night.” Kept apart. Enjoyed his solitude. Gone for a simple fuck with someone, rather than this complicated, perfect, wonderful, beautiful thing he’d completely fucked up.
A grunt from Adrian and an audible swallow, as if he were trying to keep something in. “Babe, don’t. Can we—I don’t want this to end. Especially not like this.”
Dom hazarded raising his head. Looking at Adrian’s face was nearly as painful as the thought of vanishing from his life. Because all the poise and calm Dom was so used to were gone. Yeah, the strength was still there, but so was the shattered soul of someone who loved very hard and so so so much.
Dom didn’t deserve a moment of it, a voice in his head whispered. Another answered that maybe, maybe he did.
“Can I tell you why? Why Domino?”
A slow nod. “I’d be honored if you did.”
Those words pierced and stung, but in a good way. Like the first swallow of ice water in a parched throat.
Maybe, maybe what Adrian had said was true. Maybe it would be all right.
* * *
Adrian rubbed the fabric of his socks between his fingers and quelled his own panic. Dominic was more or less sounding like himself again. God, watching him fall, watching him struggle to breathe, to find the safety he needed...
Adrian’s fault. Of course there’d been a reason behind Domino. The rational part of him should have guessed that, but the emotional, fragile side only felt betrayed. He’d been utterly unfair. Mean, even. Not the actions of a lover or a friend.
Dominic let the throw slip away from his head as he drank the tea. When he finished the mug, he set it down in front of himself, and lifted those beautiful eyes to stare at Adrian. “I met Ray Van Zeller in high school. He’s got this brain that’s full of words and music and—” Dominic shook his head. “He’s wicked smart, but struggled a lot ’cause people saw a skinny kid wearing hand-me-downs who had a hard time with shit, so no one took the time to get to know him.”
Dom shrugged. “Not at first. We had a homeroom teacher who decided that rather than seating us alphabetically, to alternate. Bottom of the alphabet, then the top. So Ray ended up in front of me. Turned around and said hi. First kid ever to do that with nerdy me.” He paused. “And I was a complete nerd, every stereotype, and I got picked on a lot. I don’t even know why, but I could never dress cool. Even if I came in with the hottest T-shirt and perfect jeans, I’d get pushed around for that.”
Kids were awful. Hell, adults were awful, but kids...they could be so damn cruel.
“But Ray? He’s outgoing. Always was. Still is. You should see him onstage. He just...lives and breathes the music and the crowd and—” Dominic got this faraway look, one of deep passion and love. “He didn’t care what people thought. Just was himself.”
This was the piece of what Adrian had been missing. The spark in Dominic he’d seen but never quite understood. “You love him.”
Dominic started, then laughed. It was a pure sound, and one that melted Adrian’s heart a little, because it sounded like joy. “He’s my best friend. Like a brother. So yeah, I do. But not like I—” Dominic’s smile dropped away, and he looked down at the mug sitting before him.
Adrian waited and held his breath.
Slowly, Dominic looked up and locked gazes with him. “I don’t love him like I love you, Adrian.”
Adrian let go of his sock. “Babe.” There were tears in Dominic’s eyes. In his own, too.
A sad chuckle. “Not how I was supposed to tell you who I was and what I wanted.”
They’d get through this. “It’s okay.”
“Yeah. Yeah, maybe it is.” He blew out a breath. “Anyway, Ray and me? Became friends. Then he found out I could play guitar, ’cause my parents read this thing that said music was good for math and they thought I should be a scientist—” He broke off. “Fuck, I’m rambling.”
Adrian resisted the urge to utter the words it’s okay again, but it was. Fuck, it was just fine. Rambling, talkative Dominic. Who loved him.
“Anyway, he started trying to get me to play the songs in his head. And he’d write and write and write words and music in this odd shorthand he had.” Dominic shook his head and laughed. “God, we were so young back then!”
“When did you first play music together?” Adrian absently gripped the toe of his other sock.
“Summer between freshman and sophomore years. We were fifteen and thought we were the hottest shit ever.” Dominic gave a rueful laugh.
Adrian eyed the magazine. “Well, you weren’t too far off the mark.”
Dominic’s gaze followed his, and he gestured at the coffee table. “Can I see it? I haven’t read it.”
Adrian grabbed the copy and handed it over. “I only flipped through the photos.”
Another chuckle. “You and about a million other people.” He thumbed through the copy. “Sometimes it’s really surreal to see this. Like—I remember the photo shoot and the interview, but it’s...far away. I mean, this one must have been months ago. We just did one, recently, too. They all kind of blend together.” He touched a photograph of himself. “It feels like I’m someone else on these pages. Like it’s a dream.” His eyes were glassy when he looked at Adrian. “Or this, me now, is a dream. I never know which.”
Oh. Understanding ripped through Adrian. Dominic was hiding. He was hiding both halves of himself from each other. Here was the heart of Dominic’s terror and fear, that if one was the truth, the other was a lie.
He put his hand over Dominic’s. “Maybe both are real.”
He’d seen Dominic the musician. He’d seen the strength, the knots, and the twines that held him up, like the tattoo on his shoulder that Adrian loved so much. He fucking knew every part of Dominic was real.
“No. They can’t be.” Dominic’s chuckle broke Adrian’s heart. “Domino exists because when Ray asked me to get up onstage with him our sophomore year for the talent show, I spent the rest of the evening after puking and shaking and the rest of that week trying to will myself invisible. Everyone thought Ray was great and marveled at how a fucking dork like me could play the guitar. Didn’t believe it.”
Because kids were cruel. But Dominic was both shy and fearless. Both timid and strong. Adrian suspected all of it had been hard-won. His skills. His education. So much he didn’t know about this man he could very well love forever. “So you made a persona.”
Dominic nodded. “I could be someone else and get onstage. Someone not a dork or a nerd. A person no one would suspect was me because Dominic Bradley isn’t a rock star.” He paused. “Domino always knew he was one. From the moment he set foot onstage.” His eyes fluttered shut and his breathing slowed. A memory, probably. Reliving the experience. “I’m Domino when I’m there.”
Adrian squeezed Dominic’s hand. No, he hadn’t known Dominic that long. A month and a couple weeks, really. Enough to start passionately loving the man, to see the possibilities that lay down the line if things continued. He didn’t know that much about Dominic’s past or Twisted Wishes or any of it, but he was damn sure that Dominic and Domino weren’t two different people, persona be damned. Because even in the photos, there were glimpses of the man he knew, and now he had a name for the steel and fire he saw in Dominic. The strength that lay at the base of him.
Adrian rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“You’re not saying something,” Dominic muttered. “What aren’t you saying?”
Adrian shrugged. “I think Dominic Bradley is a rock star. I think he’s also a scholar and incredibly intelligent. He’s sexy and fun and utterly unexpected. He looks damn fine in my ropes, too.” He twined Dominic’s fingers in his own. “And I want to know more about him...about you. I want to know the whole you.”
Dominic tossed the magazine between them, but didn’t pull his hand away. “You were so mad at me for this.”
That hit hard enough that Adrian flinched. “Yeah. I know. I shouldn’t have been. It’s—” He struggled to put his emotions into thoughts—he was a shitty poet, too. “It’s your secret to tell. I knew there were aspects of your life you weren’t sharing, and that was your right. I mean, I’m just a guy you met at a bar—”
“You’re more than that.” Dominic’s voice was tight.
“Now, yes. But—no one has the right to demand everything from you. You weren’t ready to tell me. And I shouldn’t have gotten mad because you didn’t. End of story.” Even when he’d discovered Dominic’s secret. After all, tonight he’d have found it all out anyway, and from the proper source. “I wish I could rewind to lunchtime and not bothered with the bookstore.”
Dominic grunted. “I didn’t know how to tell you earlier. Because the thing is—I don’t want anyone to know. I mean, outside the band. They know.”
And Adrian wasn’t the band. “Is it...anxiety?”
“Kinda? That was the diagnosis way back when. My parents dragged me to see someone after that talent show, and they wanted me to stop the whole ‘band nonsense’ as they called it. But I wanted to be in Ray’s band.” He laughed. “And the therapist agreed I should try. We worked on coping mechanisms and the like, and the panic attacks lessened. This was the first really bad one in years.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Adrian shouldn’t have been such a shit.
“But I should have told you. I mean, I trusted you enough to let you tie me up. After that weekend—” The throw slid off Dominic’s shoulders. “I was so fucked up, because it was perfect and beautiful and you’ve given me so much of myself.”
He turned and held out his other hand. Adrian took it.
“Fuck, Adrian. After the first time you put cuffs on me, I should have been able to tell you that I’m hiding from my big-name rock-star persona because if the world sees me like this, the twink in button-downs, I’m probably gonna pass out. And no one will ever look at Domino the same way again.”
Except with the world the way it was...it would come out eventually. Secrets were hard to keep. But Adrian didn’t voice that, not now. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Dominic nodded. “I know we were supposed to go to dinner—”
“I’ll cancel the reservation.”
“No,” Dominic breathed out. “Maybe move it back a little? Still gotta eat and I want... I want to do something normal with you. Be your boyfriend. Be—myself.”
Of course he agreed. He kissed Dominic’s hand, then rose from the floor to call the restaurant. By the time he was done, Dominic was standing, too, the magazine in one hand, the blanket in the other. He stared at the cover, his brows furrowed, then tossed the blanket on the couch. “Are you gonna read this?”
“I’d like to, if that’s okay.”
One of Dominic’s smiles cracked through all the worry and pain. “Yeah. I think I’d like that. You’re right. This is my life, too.”
It was, and one Adrian desperately wanted to know more about.
Dominic handed him the magazine. “I should go piece myself back together well enough so we can eat.”
The cover was slick under his fingers, and cool. Such a contrast between that and the warm, rough man before him. “My house is yours, Dominic. Always.”
Dominic’s eyes widened. “Do you mean that?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” He opened his arms and Dominic folded into them, their cheeks brushing. “I adore you. I love you. I don’t want you to hurt. You can always come here.”
“Library and all?” The words were muffled into Adrian’s sweater.
“Especially there.” He stroked that lean back. It was glorious naked, and perfect clothed. He wondered what it looked like onstage.
Dominic pulled back, and that beautiful grin had returned. “I’m so glad you sat down next to me all those weeks ago.”
“Me, too.” Because that moment had changed Adrian’s life. He didn’t know exactly where he was headed, but he was excited to find out.