Page 112 of Pucking Strong

“Not choreographing this will lookmostbelievable.” I tug him along next to me, putting myself between him and the camera.

“Don’t look so mad,” he says through his fake smile. “You’re supposed to be in love with me, remember?”

“I’m Swedish. This is just my face. I look this way when I’m happy too.”

Teddy snorts a nervous laugh.

I do try to relax my shoulders a little. Then I nod to an older couple as they make their way out of the restaurant. The lady takes in our joined hands and Teddy’s smile and frowns. Her lip curls up as if she just smelled something rotten. It stops me in my tracks. I know Teddy sees it too, because his hand tightens in mine.

He shocks the hell out of me by rounding on her. “What? You’ve never seen two men holding hands before? Take a picture. It’ll last longer!”

Knowing there’s a photographer in the bushes, Teddy and I both start laughing.

The older woman gasps, her hand flying up to clutch her literal pearls, as her husband, an old white man in a navy sport coat, wraps his hand around her arm. “Come on, Denise.”

“Yeah, keep walking, Denise,” Teddy calls after her. “Nothing to see here.”

“Will you stop?” I say in his ear.

“Hey, later tonight, we’re gonna go home and do gay stuff together,” he adds, giving her a dramatic wave. “It’s gonna be great, Denise! We’ll Snapchat you photos!”

“Come on.” I pull him away.

“Fuck, I feel better.” He pulls the door open for me. “Shall we? I’ve heard the branzino is divine.”

We make it through drinks and the appetizer course before the subject of the photographer comes up again. Teddy is mid-sentence, recounting a progress update from Karro’s tutor, when he stops, his shoulders stiffening. He sets his amaretto sour aside, eyes locked on the empty plate of mussels between us.

“What’s wrong?”

“The photographer is in the corner by the bar.”

Before I can say anything, my phone buzzes in my inside pocket. I reach for it and see a message from Poppy glowing on the screen:

POPPY:

Squeeeee, you two look so cute together! I wanna melt you in a pan and serve you over ice cream!

I flash Teddy the phone and let him read the message. “Is this a good thing?”

He shrugs. “I guess. I mean, wedolook good.” He brushes his hand down his chest. “I lied in the car though.”

“What?”

“This suit. It isn’t mine. It’s Novy’s.”

“You’re wearing Novy’s suit?” I note the way it fits a little too large in the shoulders.

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