Page 34 of A Flighty Fake Boyfriend
“Did he?”
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t like me. He spent a lot of his time campaigning for change.”
“I know what that’s like because Steven and Chloe are the same.” I must have looked blank. “My parents.”
Epic’s hands drifted away, and he took the chair beside me.
“I like you, Ryan.”
“Thank you, but it’s not exactly as if you know me.”
“I know what you care about.” He was a smart kid. I guessed he probably did. “I know that you drive yourself.”
“Of course I—”
“And don’t make a joke about cars because you know what I mean.”
I bit my lip. “Okay.”
“I know that you came here expecting to pal around with a friend who could make you feel better about all this, and I’m sorry he couldn’t make it, but I won’t let you down.”
“You couldn’t, Epic. You don’t have to do anything. I like you too.”
He gave me a sweet smile and rested his head in his arms. “I’ll keep you company until you want to go back to bed, okay?”
I shut down my computer, closed my laptop, and took his hand. “Come on. We need our sleep because we’re going to have lots of fun tomorrow.”
“We are?”
“I’m counting on it.”
Chapter Nine
The following morning we dressed after ordering breakfast in the room—shakshuka for me and eggs Benedict for Epic, along with a fresh berry bowl and a large pot of coffee.
We sampled each other’s dishes like we had the night before. His was rich and buttery with delicate ham and perfectly poached eggs. Mine was fragrant with garlic, covered in Lebneh cheese, served with a thin, herbaceous bread to soak up the spicy tomato sauce.
Despite the interruption to my sleep, I felt refreshed and ready to spend time doing…something.
“What do you suggest we do today?” I asked Epic. “It says in the hotel binder they have personal trainers, guided meditation, tennis, yoga.”
“Oh, goodie.” He rolled his eyes.
“What sounds fun to you, then?”
“What if we go into Santa Barbara? There are a ton of art galleries and shops.”
“We could do that.”
“I think it would be fun to look around.”
I stood. “I’m in. I could use the walk.”
“Cool.” Once again, he slathered me with sunscreen—no wonder his skin was so pale. “You should probably get a hat.”
“Maybe I should get black socks and oxford shoes, too? Or carry a big camera so there’s no mistaking me for a local.”
“You can get a cool hat.”
