Page 112 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet

This will be thoroughly entertaining—because I am absolutely savage with the flippers.

His jaw hangs open after my tenth win in a row. “What the hell, babe? You didn’t tell me you were the pinball wizard.”

I smile for many reasons, but partly because I’mbabenow. A nickname for when we’re in the real world and one for when he’s drunk on sex. I like having both.

We continue like that the next day. I head to meetings, and he disappears into his meet-cute world in coffee shops. On Tuesday night, we go to The Holy Cow to see Lettuce Pray. It’s a packed house, and the crowd goes wild for the lead singer. When the show ends, William texts and asks us to meet him at a dive bar around the corner, someplace he won’t be recognized. Once he’s there, he slams back shots so fast he’s unsteady on his feet after a mere twenty minutes.

That’s what I was worried about.

“C’mon, buddy,” TJ says gently. “Share a Lyft with us. Let’s get you home.”

“Awww, I thought you blokes would never ask,” William says with a dopey grin.

When we’re in the back seat, he’s between us, wrapping an arm around me, then TJ. “You’re both so fucking hot,” he says. He kisses my cheek, then TJ’s. “If you ever want to have a threesome...”

TJ shoots me a seriously deadly stare as he answers, “No, William. I’m not sharing Jude. With anyone. Ever,” he says, firm and clear.

William laughs, shaking a finger at TJ. “I fucking knew you were here in LA for him, not business like you said.”

“Of course I’m here for Jude,” TJ says, his tone underlining my name and what I mean to him.

I get hot all over. I needed that—a little possession from my... obsession.

We deliver William safely into his home, where he flops onto his couch, humming a tune. TJ pours a glass of water and sets it on the coffee table, and I find some aspirin.

“My mates are the best,” William says, and I tell him I’ll check on him in the morning.

We return to our waiting car, and as the driver peels away from the curb and into the hazy night, TJ points back toward William’s house. “I guess that’s what he’s struggling with.”

“I think the fame is hard for him,” I say.

“Good call on going to see him,” TJ says, then he’s clearly done talking about William since he pounces on me, pouring all that possessiveness into a kiss that doesn’t stop when we get home. His ownership continues in bed for a good, long time.

The next morning, I take off early for Malibu, ruffling TJ’s hair as he lies in bed. He mutters something about seeing me tonight—that he’ll be in a coffee shop all day writing.

“Of course you will,” I say, then I’m gone. Maybe tonight, I’ll ask what happens after Los Angeles.

No, I won’task.

I’ll tell him I want him to see me in London when he goes to Amsterdam. Or ask if he wants company while he’s there. I’ll tell him I want anAfter Los Angeles.

38

SWIMMING WITH THE SHARKS

TJ

As I drain my morning joe at Doctor Insomnia’s Tea and Coffee Emporium, an image of washboard abs lands in my email. There’s no text in Hazel’s email, just the subject line:For my next cover—your rating, on a scale of one to ten?

As I tap out, “Looks-like-he’s-never-even-seen-a-carb-much-less-tasted-one,” Mason’s name flashes on the screen. I hit send quickly so I can answer my agent. “Hey, give me a sec,” I say.

“Don’t worry. I have all day,” he barks.

“Dude. Cool your jets,” I tease, grabbing my laptop quickly. I stuff it into my messenger bag and go outside. “Okay. What’s up?”

“You. You’re up. You’re at bat, and Kristen wants you to get your fine ass on over to CTM in, oh, say, two hours.”

Is he for real? He wants me to meet his LA counterpart for the first time, and he’s giving me this little warning? “Two hours? From now?”

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