Best Friends Forever

Chapter Fifteen

Despite my conflicting internal desires to see Dahlia, I was somewhat relieved when I pulled back the door and Dalton was standing on the other side, waiting for me with a smile.

As I had come to realize, both for worse or better, Dalton was easier to handle. He wasn't blunt or stubborn or antagonistic. He was, ironically, a reed in the wind–free to move and bend and push over as I pleased.

The more time I spent with Dalton, the more this annoyed me, but instead of letting my frustrations get the better of me, I analyzed this trait as I ushered Dalton inside and led him to my massage setup.

Dalton is just Dahlia's idea of what my perfect man is. So...does that mean that she thinks I need some kind of play-doh man? Someone I can mold and shape to my will?

I frowned at the thought of this. Was I really such a control freak that Dahlia would think I wanted a yes man to obediently follow me around for the rest of my life?

Unless there's something less obvious that I'm missing. Some other reason why she thinks someone so non-confrontational would be so well suited to me.

A secret smile played on my lips that I hid from Dalton as I turned to the table and smoothed my hands over the towel laid down.

Silly seeing how Dahlia is the most confrontational person I know...

"So should I just take my shirt off or...?"

I turned back to Dalton with a distracted hum on my lips. "Hm?"

Dalton tugged at his shirt collar–enough that I could see his binder underneath–before he threw me an awkward grin. "How much do you need me to take off?"

I blinked in surprise as Dalton's words floated into my head and fluttered around like a trapped butterfly.

Don't know why you're acting like this is a left field question. The guy came here to get a massage. Generally that's a skin on skin contact game.

I drew in a breath and stood up a little taller to collect myself.

Right. Yes. Because I'm a professional. Totally not even thinking about them getting naked and trying not to perv on them or anything. Mm-mm. Of course not.

"Your lumbar region is what's bothering you, right?" I asked Dalton before turning to the side and motioning toward the expanse of my lower back with both hands.

Dalton hummed in the affirmative. "That's the bad spot."

I nodded and said, "Well, the more I can get to, the better I can work on you. So, you know." I shrugged. "Take off as much as you're comfortable with."

Dalton and I stared at each other for a few moments. Then he cleared his throat and muttered, "Right," before slipping his V neck over his head.

The moment Dalton's binder was exposed to my eyes, I looked away with a blush. I knew it was just another garment. It didn't have magical powers or anything of the like, but still, there was something about it. Like the fuzzy line between Dalton and Dahlia that both terrified and exhilarated me.

I could hear Dalton shuffling around behind me, taking off clothes and then–if I knew anything about Dahlia's idiosyncrasies and how they might apply to Dalton–folding them neatly afterward.

While he did this I opened up the top of my favorite bottle of oil and tested it between my fingers to make sure that it was up to room temperature. I focused on the job, hoping that the concentration I used would keep me from thinking of Dalton inappropriately.

"Hey, do I put that little towel over my butt or do you do that? I can never remember."

My brows scrunched together as I turned to Dalton, thinking that I must have heard him wrong. When I saw that he was already on the massage table, somehow hopping up there without me knowing despite it only being a foot away from me, I uttered a thin gasp of surprise. His close proximity was the least of my worries, however.