Page 22 of Headstrong Like Us
“Did I ask them,” I repeat and suck in a breath. “Not yet.”
Wrinkles line his forehead. “Christ, really. Aren’t you the one who invented the Band-Aid method?”
I shake my head with a smile. “Did not invent that, no.” I prop my elbow on his shoulder, our mouths a breath apart. “This is harder than I anticipated.”
He stares at my lips. “Nothing’s hard for you.” His brows knit. “Except”—his eyes fall to my cock—“you know, whenever you’re around me.”
I raise my brows. “Because I carry a constant hard-on throughout the entire day.”
“So you’re admitting it.”
“Yeah, that’s not what I said, smartass.” I lean back, and he fists my shirt again, drawing me nearer. I smile and slide my plate of breakfast closer to Maximoff.
“But seriously, Farrow…” His voices drifts off for a second. He watches my hands as I fuck around and slide raspberries on my fingertips.
I almost laugh.He’s too easy.
He glares, but he’s grinding back a smile. “Fuck.” He rolls his stiff neck, then whispers to me, “I didn’t realize that this would be a big deal for you.”
“I’m trying not to make my friendships complicated.” I stare at him and suck a raspberry off my fingertip. “I like uncomplicated.”
He’s hooked to my movements. But he manages to say strongly, “I’m complicated. You like me.”
“I love you,” I correct him and eat the raspberry off my pinky.
He nods.
“It’s just hard,” I say again. Maximoff is right. He’s a complicated guy living in a complicated world, and I enjoy every chaotic, high-speed second. I don’t understandwhyI’m nervous to complicate my friendships.
But I’m sure one of his favorite philosophers is telling him the answer. He stares into me. “I can help you.”
I know you can.But it’s not just ripping the Band-Aid. It’s what comes after. So I whisper, “Another time. Later.”
He nods again, his steadfast demeanor a comfort.
“Hale,” Oscar calls. “Vegas?”
Donnelly pipes in, “Yea or nay?”
Regardless of who’s the best man, all the guys on SFO want to plan my bachelor party together.
I stay close to Maximoff, his hand in mine, and with his free hand, Maximoff grabs a piece of bacon off my plate. “You guys can do Vegas for Farrow’s bachelor party. But mine has to be better suited for my family that’s under-twenty-one.”
“No Vegas then.” Oscar tosses that out. “We all want both parties in the same city.”
Maximoff looks between us. “Jesus, you guys are that worried about the temps?”
“They’re green,” I remind him.
“They’re bound to make some motherfucking mistakes in the beginning.” Oscar eats egg and biscuit off his fork as the door blows open.
A trail of famous ones and bodyguards fill the store. Jack Highland, the exec producer of the docuseries, greets Akara with a bro-hug. I catch Oscar eyeing Jack in a way that concerns me, as his friend.
He turns forward, eyes on me.
I give him a look. “Be careful.” Jack has said he’s straight, and there’s no faster way to a broken heart than crushing on a straight, unattainable guy. If Oscar wants to go that route, he knows I’ll be here for him, but fuck, I hope he doesn’t test that.
Oscar nods several times. “I know, Redford.”
