Page 29 of Protecting the Nerd

Marnin raised an eyebrow as if he was unconvinced and waved across the table where Tiago and Cas sat so close together you couldn’t get a sheet of paper between them and then to Fir and Tomás, who’d been touching each other every few seconds, exchanging those lovey-dovey looks that felt almost too private to witness. “Sure, but look around and note the obvious difference.”

Quillon clenched his jaw, and his anger sat heavy on my stomach. Shit, I’d failed him, all because I hadn’t been able to sell the story necessary to safeguard me. He’d asked me one thing, and I’d disappointed him.

“We’re not all given to public displays,” Quillon said, his voice tight.

“Maybe.” Marnin shrugged. “Just saying, if you want people to buy the love story, you might wanna crank up the heat a little.”

I glanced at Quillon for cues on how to navigate this conversation. The flicker of doubt in his eyes and the slight downturn of his mouth made it clear that he was also uncomfortable. Ripples of unease seemed to spread to our friends, and the tension around our table thickened like the air before a thunderstorm.

“That’s enough, Marnin.” Auden’s voice was calm. He hadn’t increased his volume, yet his authority was apparent. “Back off.”

Marnin’s usual gruff demeanor softened almost imperceptibly under Auden’s firm stare. They exchanged a silent conversation, an understanding that passed without words, and Marnin nodded. He tipped his beer bottle toward Quillon and me, a gesture that seemed to say “no hard feelings.”

The relief was immediate. The air cleared as if he’d opened a window in a stuffy room. Cas shared a story about a job where a man had tried to fix a leaking pipe and had ended up flooding his entire basement, and after that, we were back to catching up. I didn’t say much, but I loved being with these men, who were so close to each other. They were about the only exception to my dislike for groups.

When Quillon and I stepped out into the brisk air, darkness covered the town, and the Double F’s neon sign cast a kaleidoscopic glow on the deserted street. We walked side by side, our shadows merging and stretching on the sidewalk, the earlier tension hanging between us like an unsolved equation. With each step we took away from the bar, the cacophony of laughter and clinking glasses faded, replaced by the rhythmic tapping of our shoes against the concrete.

The disquieting undercurrent of the evening had left me feeling unmoored and my usually ordered thoughts scattered. I checked to make sure no one was around us. “I’m sorry I didn’t do a good job selling our relationship. Are you angry with me?”

I’d kept my voice barely above a whisper.

Quillon paused midstride and turned to face me with an unreadable expression. The way he looked at me suggested a depth of consideration that went beyond mere annoyance. “No, I’m not angry with you.”

I exhaled, the breath I’d been holding escaping in a white cloud. “I just thought after Marnin’s comment, you might be…”

I didn’t want to complete the thought. Admitting vulnerability wasn’t something that came naturally to me—an instinctual self-defense mechanism honed over years of emotional isolation.

We resumed walking, and this time, I took Quillon’s hand, needing the solidity of his grip. He squeezed my hand gently, as if to punctuate his earlier statement.

“I’m angry with myself,” Quillon said after a while. “Disappointed in myself for not doing a better job. Feels like I failed you.”

He did? Wasn’t it interesting how our feelings were mirrored? “You didn’t fail me. It’s a hiccup.”

“If any of them shares their doubts about us with anyone else…”

“They won’t. Auden and Fir know the truth. The Banner twins won’t say anything, considering they have personal experience with having their secrets spilled, and Marnin may come across as an asshole, but he’s a good guy. His bark is far worse than his bite.”

Quillon blew out a breath. “You picked your friends well.”

I snorted. “I didn’t pick them. They chose me, probably out of… Never mind. But yes, they’re great guys, all of them.”

“Regardless, if Marnin clued in to our deceit that easily, we need to do better.”

That, I could agree with. A thought occurred to me. “Are you gay?”

Quillon stopped again, looking at me with his mouth hanging open. “You didn’t know?”

“How would I know? I’d never ask someone that, and you never said anything either.”

“Oh.” He set off again, a deep frown on his face. “I assumed you knew when you suggested the boyfriend ruse.”

“I only said that because it made the most sense to me, not because I had any assumptions about your sexuality. To be honest, I hadn’t given it much thought, probably because labels like that mean little to me. Love is love, and sexuality is fluid.”

“Agreed. Anyway, yes, I’m gay. Which is why I blame myself. I should know how to make our connection believable.”

“Please don’t point the finger at yourself. I have little experience with relationships and none with other men, so that doesn’t help. It’s hard for me to know what to do because I have no clue how I would behave in a relationship.”

“You said you had previous relationships.”

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