Page 88 of A Flighty Fake Boyfriend
“Let me get the sunscreen.”
“It’s eight in the morning.”
“The sun is visible, isn’t it? I’m not letting my skin get old before its time.”
I sighed dramatically. “It’s already probably too late for me.”
“You’re gorgeous.” He caught my chin. “I’m trying to preserve you.”
My face got hot. “C’mon. You can slather me with anything you like.”
“Anything?”
“Not really.”
“You had me all excited there for a minute. I had a hundred ideas.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
We dressed in shorts and T-shirts, but the day hadn’t warmed up. I let Epic borrow an old Georgetown sweatshirt. It suited him perfectly, the preppy motherfucker.
“You look like every college boy who rejected me,” I pointed out.
“Oh my God. We’re going to have to do something about your self-esteem.”
“My self-esteem is fine. Mostly.” I turned away so he couldn’t see I was still torn open by the honesty between us. “Now, anyway. Back then, my gaydar was a little unpredictable.”
“Well, you’re in for a treat, then, because I’m a bona fide homosexual, and I think you’re hot. C’mon.”
Epic ran, and I chased him down the street.
I felt twenty years old again, full of life and laughter and the intense longing to be with my really cute guy. The problems of the world even seemed far enough away that they didn’t fill my heart with despair. I had the right to enjoy this moment. I had a right to enjoy Epic, and the gift he gave me with every smile, every kiss, every touch of his hand on my skin.
I had a wild want inside me to claim him and make him mine as well.
After feeling nothing for so long, the bittersweet ache of longing filled me up and overflowed, pouring out of me in tiny, emotional waves. Like raindrops disrupting a still pond, my reflection was blurred too much to see.
Who will I be after Epic? What will happen when I leave St. Nacho’s?
In the short term, it didn’t matter because it turned out fate had a few surprises in store for Epic too.
Chapter Twenty-One
On our way to the beach, Epic decided to stop at home for a few things. I don’t know what I expected; the sort of apartments I’d lived in when I was going to school, I guess. He’d called his place one step above dorm living, but the charm of the fourplex he lived in was unlike anything I was used to.
There were two units in front and two in back—each with its own welcoming little porch. Epic’s porch was covered with potted plants in various stages of wet. Inside his apartment, there were more, along with the usual youthful bric-a-brac—Funko figurines, LEGO Star Wars toys, and beer bottles. The table in the kitchen was covered in computer equipment, and a gaming setup dominated the living room. His bedroom was little more than a place to rest his head. Full-size bed, chest of drawers, and hamper. All cheaply made.
After the vague little tour, I waited on the porch while Epic got what he wanted. He finally came out with a blanket, a beach umbrella, and a couple of kites. As he locked the door, a Lexus pulled up to the curb. When Epic saw the car, he paled.
“Shit.” His shoulders fell. “Buckle up, buttercup.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will.”
The woman in the passenger seat got out and everything fell into place. She was tall and dark-haired with fair skin and an unhappy expression—a frosty Snow White who let the huntsman take her heart because it was an inconvenience. She wore a stylish knit pantsuit with low-heeled pumps.
“Robert.” She smiled at Epic, but it was a cool thing. The message?Don’t disappoint me.
