After Marc departed, Thorne inclined his head toward the empty stool beside him. With obvious reluctance, Dash sat down.

“I’m sorry,” Thorne said, not knowing what else to do.

He thought Dash might pretend he couldn’t hear. Instead, he gave Thorne a curt nod.

Say something. “Do you want to dance?”

“No.”

That had been stupid. “Dash, I never meant—”

“To hurt me. To insult me. I want to believe that, but even if I do, I can’t see you again. I just fucking can’t…” He walked away into the crowd.

Marc returned holding two bright-green drinks. “Where’s Riley?”

Thorne motioned toward the dance floor where Dash was now sandwiched between a beautiful man with dark skin and dreadlocks and the twink who’d hit on Thorne.

“You hurt him,” Marc said, settling on the stool next to Thorne.

“I know.”

“You still want him?”

Thorne nodded, unable to deny it.

“Then don’t give up.”

Marc walked away before Thorne could ask him what he meant by that. Thorne had seen pain in Dash’s eyes. Marc might think he knew what he was talking about, but Thorne didn’t see Dash forgiving him anytime soon, not before it was too late. It wouldn’t take Dash long to meet someone more suited to him than Thorne.

Thorne drained his bourbon, tossed some money on the bar, and walked out, alone. Was that how he would live the rest of his life? Alone? Maybe that was what he deserved.

***

Thorne came out to his parents at Thanksgiving, or as his mother saw it, he “ruined” Thanksgiving. From his perspective, it was one of the best family holidays ever.

The next day, Friday, he phoned Sheila and scheduled a companion for the night. He was going to conquer his obsession with Dash.

Lachlan, the dark-haired man who showed up at his door, was beautiful. Thorne invited him in for coffee, and they talked. He found out Lachlan was majoring in business, and they had a lovely discussion about management techniques. Then Thorne paid him, sent him on his way, and jacked off to memories of Dash, once in bed and once in the shower.

***

Two weeks after Thanksgiving, Thorne donned his tux and prepared to attend the Arts Council’s holiday party. Memories of Dash in the tux Thorne had bought assaulted him. He’d been gorgeous, perfect. And yet Thorne had forced him to pretend to be Thorne’s friend, not his lover. If he could do that over, if he could have Dash at his side now…