Page 93 of The Pretender

“Where the fuck is Sebastian?” I spin around, knowing good and damn well where he is, but I need him to come into this shot or my plan won’t work. “Sebastian Carrington! Come out and face me, you liar!”

Whispers and awkward coughs sound to my left as the crowd pushes forward and I turn, finally finding my demon douche with eyes as wide as Fenn’s sunglasses.

I crook my finger, yelling across the space between us. “You think you can replace me, bro?”

Even from this far away, I can see a muscle tick in Sebastian’s jaw, which is quite sexy, even when his expression went from disbelief to pure, unadulterated rage with one sentence. But that’s okay. The anger will bring him to me.

“You have nothing to say?” I’m baiting the shit out of him. “I tell you I need a couple months to handle some family business and you think you can enter this competition without me?” I stomp my foot and cringe. “You think you can replace me?” My words are sharp and challenging and that’s all he needs to eat up the space between us and grab my arm, hauling me to him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Gah, he really is so predictable.

I push him off and take a step back, pointing to Brick who stares on, confused as to who the hell I am.

“Why am I here?” I spit and grab at my non-existent balls, which sends Sebastian’s ticking jaw into overdrive.

“Don’t do this,” he grits, but it’s too late. I’ve already done it.

“Do what?” I yell for the camera. “Expose you?”

My words are biting, and everything nightmares are made of. Well, Sebastian’s nightmares at least. “I’m just wondering why you hired this asshole,” I point to Brick, “when you knew I was coming back.”

Sebastian shakes his head, and I take a few steps back, closing the space between me and Brick. “You’re a liar and a cheat, but you know what, Brock?” I push at his shoulder and, like the pussy he is, he stumbles. “All the lying and conniving was never going to win Malcolm the competition.”

I turn back and give Sebastian a look that clearly says, brace yourself. “You know why, Bruce?”

Brick wipes his mouth and glares. “Because no matter how sneaky you thought you were, you will never be able to play with the big dogs.”

And with those parting words and nausea in my throat, I rip off the wig and let my long hair drop, ripping off the eyebrows and sideburns and tossing them at Brick’s feet.

“You,” I say in my own voice through the gasps and OMGs, “will never replace me.”

At which point I turn around, leaving Malcolm’s mouth hanging open, and face my naughty neighbor. “And you… should always know we’ll win. MyView is our house.”

Then I launch my ass at the man who once confided in me that he thought beer tasted like an old sock and even lent me his Desitin when I lied and said I had ball chaffing. This man was my bro, my bestie, and my asshole amigo, whether it be when I’m wearing a bra or pretending I have a dick.

This is my human.

Sebastian catches me with an oomph, and I go in for a kiss. I don’t care that everyone is putting it together that I am Tweener, Sebastian’s elite cameraman, and the one who abandoned him only to be right back in his life, playing his fake girlfriend. What can I say? We like to keep our relationship interesting.

Our mouths collide, and Sebastian’s groan fuels my wanting.

I might be crazy.

And I might have embarrassed the shit out of him.

But he still wants me and that’s all that matters.

Well, that and winning this money. There’s no way we won’t at least give Malcolm a run for the prize money with this video.

When I pull back from our kiss, I immediately bury my face in his neck. “I’m sorry I went rogue on you, but I couldn’t let you lose. This is your dream, dude.”

Those big hands that have stolen more shit than is acceptable, palm my ass, ignoring the fact that I have on my uncle Pe’s jeans and boots, and shift me farther up his hips. “I’ve missed your crazy ass, bro.”

Our laughter is met with others, and for the first time since I got here, I allow myself to look around. Amongst the drama hogs, our friends are standing around us: Aspen with a camera; Bennett on guard, looking around like someone is going to snipe us at any minute; Fenn on his phone, so over me being dressed like a boy; and Drew, chatting up one of the girls who looks like she’d be happy to take a ride on Big D. Then there’s Maverick, ready to go, with a tight grip on Ainsley, who I don’t know, but by the way she’s clapping and whooping, I already like her.

“I cannot believe this is what you were doing for two months,” Aspen muses. “How did I miss my bestie dressing up as a guy and living this whole double life?”

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