Page 79 of Mr. Picture Perfect
For a moment, I’m tempted to tell TJ everything. Like a polite and mutual trading of secrets. But I promised Noah I wouldn’t tell anyone. Besides, I kind of thought Noah disappeared off to college himself after graduation, since I haven’t seen him until recently, so obviously he wasn’t the reason I didn’t scrape up the funds to hit up even Fairview Community nearby.
But he’s definitely a reason to stick around now.
“Never mind,” says TJ. “I can see twenty stories written on your face, and that might be too much to unpack over tea. I’m not gonna be my mom and probe you to death. I’m only here for the week before I gotta go back to campus anyway. Just … whoever it is … I hope he knows he’s one lucky guy.”
I smile, thinking about Noah this morning, how cutely scared he was of his mom catching us, how nervous he got when I started snacking on him before I left.
And all the time we spent last night searching our souls for places of familiarity and mutual happiness.
One such place being his shower.
And his bed.
I down the rest of my tea, including the raspberries, then nod at him. “Y’know you can hit me up anytime you need a friend to talk to, alright? Number hasn’t changed. We’re connected online. Shoot me a DM if you need to vent.”
“Will do. Just don’t be surprised if my next DM is a wedding invitation,” he says with a grimace.
TJ and I turn when we hear the murmur of conversation. Well, to be more precise, it’s the sound of Malcolm talking accompanied by Dean and Anthony’s footsteps as they follow. “There you are,” says Malcolm. “A far cry from the boys’ room.”
Malcolm is always so well put-together, stylish and dressed to perfection, with his dark hair combed neatly and his eyes focused and sharp. After the failed attempt of Nadine’s to set the two of us up, we’ve since become friends, though between his job of being Nadine’s event coordinator and his boyfriend Samuel, the two of us haven’t had much time to hang out or even talk.
Malcolm stops some distance from the kitchen with a tablet pressed to his chest. “Mr. Harding,” he greets me with a smile.
I have a suspicion it might be his first genuine smile in a long time. “Hey there, Malckie,” I greet him back.
His smile drops away. “Really? You, too?”
“Sorry,” I say, wincing. “Samuel got me into the habit.”
“Forgiven. Now what are you doing over here chatting away with TJ? We have got an event itinerary to go over and half a morning left to do it in.”
With a glance behind him, I see a stiff-postured Dean with his arms crossed, and Anthony who appears to be picking something out of his teeth with his pinky nail.
All signs point to this being a wonderful and easygoing day.
“Sorry,” says TJ. “I pulled him aside. He’s all yours now.” Then he shoots me a grimace of apology and nudges me toward him.
Malcolm wastes no time as he whisks me away with the other men. “Needless to say,” Malcolm drones on as we head for the back doors to the pavilion, “there will be a lot of pressure on our shoulders to make this event as amazing as possible, so it is very important that you guys keep up and be the shining stars Nadine believes you can be.” He taps on his tablet. “Now are you guys free over the next few days? Tamika is going to interview each of you on video so we can create content for social media and to promote the live stream. Your homework is to brainstorm what you can do for the talent portion of the event and to think of what angle we can take for each of you. Y’know, like how we can package you up and sell your story. Dean, I think we can showcase you as the Mr. Hot Daddy type. I’d suggest Mr. Silver Fox, but you’re bald, so …”
Dean blinks. “Uh, hot … daddy …?”
“Trust me,” Malcolm goes on, moving a mile a minute, “you’ll have everyone drooling over you. ‘Daddy’ is a hundred percent the direction for you. As for you, Anthony, you can fit the role of Mr. Bad Boy. Oh, watch your step,” he says as we exit through the back doors and onto an enormous covered patio area. Steps lead down to a decorative stone path to the pavilion. “Not to be insensitive, but you’ve got an image around town—evenyou’reaware of it—so why not lean further into it and just pitch you that way? The ‘bad boy’ thing is hella hot. It sells.”
Anthony wrinkles up his face. “The fuck…?” he mutters under his breath.
Malcolm either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t care. “Of course, my lovely friend Cole, you will fit the obvious image of Mr. Picture Perfect.”
“Picture Perfect …?”
“Don’t question it. You’re dashing, you’re young, and you’re a local hero. You’re total boyfriend-and-husband material. That’ll be the charm-icing on the charm-cake. By the way.” He stops in his tracks and faces me. “Can you sing well? Like, at all? Any singing talent at all in your perfect bones?”
I sputter. “I, uh …”
“Never mind.” He smiles. “I was just … curious. Appeasing a totally innocent, personal, irrelevant curiosity of mine. Don’t tell Samuel I asked that question.” He goes right back into walking, as if uninterrupted. “Between the trio of you, we are going to stealeveryone’shearts … and hopefully their big ol’ wallets, too, if we do this properly.”
I catch a look from both Anthony and Dean, who seem equally bewildered.
Until Dean’s face suddenly warms and he lets out a laugh. “I’m starting to think this might be a lot of fun. Sure, fine, yes, go right ahead with this ‘hot daddy’ thing for me. Make me feel ten years younger. I place my trust in your capable hands, Malcolm.”
