Page 105 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet

I do the only thing I can.

I cup his cheek, slide my hand into his soft hair, and cover up my feelings with a kiss on the sidewalk of Santa Monica.

Every kiss with Jude has been incredible. But this one might be the best yet. It’s slow and lingering. It’s hot and intimate. It makes me feel like the hero in my own love story.

It’s also a kiss I’m sure I’ll never recover from.

Because I know. I just know.

Less than twenty-four hours later, and I’m already falling in love with him all over again.

36

THE SPOTLIGHT’S ON ME

TJ

The fountains outside the Mark Taper Forum dance in the twilight. As I head to the doors, a canvas bag in hand with a gift in it, I stop to snap a photo of the theater and send it to Hazel. I’m so damn jazzed, and I need to share that with someone.

TJ: This is where I am right now.

Hazel:Are you telling me because you might die of excitement from seeing him and you wanted someone to know your whereabouts?

She’s a witch. A fucking mind-reading witch.

TJ: Yes, Hazel. When I die, I’ll be in a theater with seven hundred people and no one will be able to find me but you.

Hazel: I love being your person. Also, HOW THE HELL IS YOUR WEEKEND? Since this is the first I’ve heard from you, I assume it’s been a non-stop sex fiesta of epic proportions.

I stop, park myself on a bench, and stare at her note with a stupid smile on my face. She’s the only person who knowswhyI’m in Los Angeles. My other buddies just think I took off to the West Coast to see some friends.

Even though Hazel’s question is the math test equivalent of two plus two, I take my time typing before I hit send on a one-word reply.

TJ: Amazing.

She writes back with an image of my reply, edited.

Hazel: I fixed your response. I added ten exclamation points!!!!!!!!!!

I laugh, writing back to her when a familiar voice booms. “Are you bloody kidding me?”

I swivel around. There’s a blast from the past I didn’t expect to see tonight.

The inked Brit strides across the concrete, looking every bit the rock star he’s become. He’s got a leather jacket slung over his shoulder, a white T-shirt stretched over his chest, motorcycle boots, and double the ink he had when he served me coffee in Piccadilly Circus.

“Well if it isn’t TJ from Seattle by way of New York. Have I got a steam wand for you!”

I roll my eyes as William stops a foot away, then hauls me in for a hug. “I’ve missed your purges, William. How the hell are you?”

“Fantastic. I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believeyou’rehere, man.”

William gives me a look like I’m crazy. “I live in LA now. Course I’m here. I was touring, but I wouldn’t miss this for the fucking world. I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

Well, why would you know?

Most of my closest friends in New York don’t know what I’m up to. My brother doesn’t know. But maybe William means Jude didn’t tell him, and he’d have expected Jude to mention my whereabouts?

---