Page 15 of Protecting the Nerd

“And we don’t need to pay rent or anything?”

Oh, right. I had forgotten to mention that detail. “He’s Tomás Banner, so no, he doesn’t need the money.”

Quillon gasped. “The model?”

“Yeah. He and Tiago, his twin, are from Forestville. They graduated the same year as my brother.”

“Damn, I had no idea your town had such famous residents.”

“They’re both retired now and happy living out of the spotlight with their respective partners.”

Forestville emerged like a scene from a postcard with its rustic charm. Like a silver snake, the Skykomish river serpentined through town, her stream gentle while the ground was still half-frozen. Slowing the car to a crawl, I turned onto Main Street, still so familiar, holding memories both fond and painful, but that was true for all of Forestville. My feelings would always be clouded by my brother.

We arrived at Tomás’s house, which had been Ms. Carol’s for as long as I could remember. She used to work as a server at Eddie’s Drive-In, which wasn’t a drive-in but a diner that served simple but tasty food, if a bit on the greasy side.

I parked the car, and we stepped out into the brisk air. The cute little house with its gabled roof and cheerful blue shutters looked like a dwelling out of a fairy tale. Bright yellow daffodils stretched their petals toward the sun, offering a splash of color in the still-bare garden, partially covered with snow. It was too early in the spring for anything else to bloom. Not that I knew much about flowers, but my mom had been an avid gardener, pointing out the different flowers and shrubs while she worked. I’d picked up a few things from her stories.

“Looks cozy.” Quillon scanned the property with an appraising look.

Cozy? As cute as the house was, it looked like a nightmare. I wasn’t used to sharing spaces, let alone playing house, but I had little choice.

“Julius will install a new alarm system,” Quillon said as I turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door.

“I can do it.”

“It’s his job.”

“He’s an outsider. It’ll draw attention and raise questions, especially because people know I’m a geek and can do it myself.”

Understanding dawned on Quillon’s face. “Gotcha. As I said, not familiar with small towns.”

“Just have it delivered, and I’ll install the damn system.”

We walked into the house, which looked stylish, with white walls and gray trim. Sunlight poured in through the open windows like liquid gold. In the living room, sleek, modern furniture offered a silent invitation to relax. An angular gray sofa faced a smart TV on the wall, and the coffee table bore no traces of water rings or life’s clutter. Everything was pristine, untouched, like a showroom.

“Feels like no one’s ever lived here,” Quillon said.

“Tomás had just bought it and had it painted and fixed up when he and Fir became serious, so after they got together, he spent more time at Fir’s than here.”

The main bedroom was like a sanctuary, dominated by a king-sized bed, its duvet crisp and white like a blank page. I placed my bags beside the closet, the leather thudding softly against the hardwood floor. The half-open door to the adjoining bathroom revealed a spacious Jacuzzi, gleaming fixtures, and fluffy towels folded neatly on the rack. Had Tomás put those out for us? He’d told me to use whatever was in the house, but that was thoughtful.

“Looks good,” I muttered, more to myself than Quillon, who’d followed me. I brushed my fingers over the smooth fabric of the bedspread.

“Nice.” Quillon stood in the doorway with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “I’ll leave you to get settled.”

He retreated, and farther down the hall, a door opened and closed—the guest room, less grand but no less new. Alone, I unpacked and placed my clothes in the dresser, the material of my suspenders familiar and comforting in my hands. Each article I stowed away was a step toward normalcy, even if everything about this situation was anything but normal.

The faint sounds of Quillon moving around in his room and the occasional drawer sliding open and shut filtered through the walls. Weird to be in the house with someone else—an almost stranger who would be part of my life for the foreseeable future. Quillon was confident we could pull it off, but the knot of apprehension in my gut told a different story. It would take more than rote memorization to convince anyone, least of all myself, of this charade.

“Got everything you need?” Quillon called from the other room, pulling me back from my thoughts.

“Almost done.”

“Good. Then maybe we can walk around town a bit? I’d like to familiarize myself with it.”

“All right.” My stomach twisted at the thought of confronting the reality outside these walls. But it was necessary—part of the job, part of the act. We had to be seen, had to be believable as a couple. I had agreed to this, so now I had to commit to every aspect, even the ones that stretched beyond my comfort zone.

As we walked toward Main Street, we didn’t encounter anyone. No wonder, on a regular Tuesday afternoon. Most people would still be at work. The crisp air heralded the last breaths of winter giving way to spring. The quaint shops lining the street had donned their seasonal finery, and every window display now boasted pastel hues and Easter motifs. Crocuses poked through patches of lingering snow in the planters outside the florist, their purple and yellow heads a stark contrast against the white.

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