Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Aron and I went through all of college and three years of friendship without hooking up. For some reason, this past year, we thought it was a good idea to start sleeping together. It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, because while I like the guy, I knew I would never fall for him. I was clear from the beginning it was going to be casual, and he agreed at first. Then a few months ago, he wanted the real deal, so I broke it off, but he’d still come back for more and promise he could keep it casual. I’m an idiot for going there in the first place. Fuck buddies never work. Someone always gets hurt in the end, and part of me wishes it was me this time, because besides Damon, Aron’s the closest thing I have to a real friend. Or, at least he was until I screwed it up.
I bypass the messages from Aron and check the one from Damon which was sent two hours ago. It says Matt and I have dinner reservations at one of the fancy-ass restaurants onboard, so I dress in a gray Gucci suit and wait for Matt.
Another two hours pass before he enters the room, drenched in sweat.
“Seriously?” I say. “Four hours of training?”
“You think I have these muscles from sitting on my ass?” He takes his shirt off and points to his abs, and my breath catches in my throat. “It’s my job to stay fit.”
Taut muscles and tattoos. All the things on a guy that moms don’t want their kids to bring home for family dinners. My eyes lock on his shoulder tatt and its intricate design that makes his biceps look even more impressive.
Matt heads for the bathroom and breaks my gaze away.
“Good luck in there. If I struggled to fit in the shower, you have no hope. Also, we have dinner reservations in fifteen minutes, so you have to hurry up.”
I get a grunt in response.
It’s official. I’m dating a caveman. Fake dating, but still.
If only he talked like a caveman and produced a few syllables all the time, I might actually like the guy. I thought I was capable of being an asshole, but Matt has that act down in spades.
Chapter Three
Matt
Noah reaches for my hand on top of the candlelit table. My back stiffens and the urge to pull away is too much. As casually as I can, I slide my hand from beneath his and put it in my lap.
“Okay, what’s up with that?” Noah asks.
“What’s up with what?”
He glances around the restaurant. We’re one of only a few couples in here, and I assume it’s because it’s one of the restaurants you have to pay extra for.
Moving closer, Noah speaks low. “Is it a PDA thing? Because I’m pretty sure the whole point of us being here is to show off how much we’re in love, and that’s not going to happen if these people see you pull away from me. We’ll need to work out a way we can look like we’re in love that doesn’t interfere with whatever weird touching thing you’re against.”
“I’m not against PDA,” I snap. “I’m just … not used to it.” The only time I allowed myself to touch another man was in those clubs—when I pretended I was someone else.
Noah leans back in his seat. “How many people knew you were gay before the tabloids outed you?”
I breathe in deep and reach for the glass of wine Noah ordered as soon as we walked into this stupid restaurant.
“Matt …”
“None, okay.”
“None? But you hooked up with Maddox in college.”
I shrug. “Doesn’t mean I told him I was gay. We had a mutual understanding that it was fooling around. We both claimed to be straight even when we were … doing not so straight things.”
Noah smiles. “You’re trying really hard to be vague right now, aren’t you?”
I lean in. “I’m scared if I talk about Maddox too loudly it’ll somehow magically summon Damon and he’ll kick my ass for even remembering I’ve seen Maddox naked.”
Noah lifts his hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s pause there for a second. You made a joke? An honest to God joke?”
I take a deep breath. “Contrary to my behavior today, I’m not an asshole all the time. This”—I wave my hand between us—“this whole thing stresses me out. I don’t know how to be a couple in public because I’ve never been a couple in public. I’ve never been a couple, period.”
“Never?”
“I couldn’t afford for it to get out. I didn’t want to force someone to live in the closet for God knew how long, and I’ve never trusted anyone enough to keep my secret.”
“How’d that work out for ya?” Noah gestures to where we are and why we’re here.
“Turns out anonymous hookups in clubs aren’t so trustworthy either.”