Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

TREVOR

D reams are dangerous things. The dreams that come at night with their inky darkness making it hard to breathe, and the dreams that inspire hope. I’ve found it’s best to attempt to have neither of them. But life rarely goes my way.

I’m having the most delicious dream of my life. I’m in Beau’s house and bright sunlight shines through the windows, slashing in streams against the walls. Laughter fills the air, the kind of joyful laughter from a decidedly happy toddler. When I look around, I find pictures of a family filling the walls. A family that includes me.

A warm hand wraps around my neck that startles me even in my dream. I look over to find Beau, older, but still as handsome, and he’s grinning at me, corners of his eyes wrinkled. It’s the gentle smile that tells me he’s thinking sickeningly sweet thoughts about me.

I blink and we’re outside with two children playing in a treehouse in the backyard. He takes my hand in his own and kisses my knuckles, showing off a wedding band on my finger.

A cold, sticky sweat covers my skin when I gasp awake. Looking around nervously, I remember that I’m in Beau’s home. That’s why I dreamt such a vivid dream. Just my brain going berserk because I’m not home in my own bed. That’s all it is. Early light of dawn filters in through the windows facing the backyard. The gentle chirp of birds that signal morning has come filters in through the gauzy curtains covering Beau’s bedroom windows.

Time to go home.

Beau grunts beside me and reaches his arm out for me in his sleep. A few more hours remain on the fake boyfriend clock. I let him tug me back down into his strong arm. I snuggle deeply against him, stupidly taking comfort in his arms. His heart pounds beneath my ear, strong and steady. Just like him. I run my fingers along the veins of his forearm as he slowly joins me in the land of the living.

“Mornin’,” Beau says, voice still sleep gruff and low.

I tenderly kiss the hollow of his throat, feeling his pulse jump against my lips. A grin breaks loose from me, and I press my lips harder against his sleep-warmed skin to hide it. “Morning.”

“Mmm,” Beau hums sleepily, tangling his fingers in my messy hair.

And then we just lie there. We freaking lie there as his fingers slowly comb through my hair, picking out the knots from sleep. I’ve never had a john do that before. Just treat me like a real boyfriend, like they enjoy my presence, like they enjoy me . I press my forehead against his chest, taking a steadying breath to calm my wild heart.

“So, what do you do when you leave here?”

“Probably another client or two this summer. Back to school in the fall.”

His fingers stutter a little in my hair, but otherwise he doesn’t speak. I trail my fingers down his side, along the dip of his ribs, and nuzzle my cheek against his chest hair. I’ve never been a big fan of body hair, but Beau has just the right amount to catch on my fingers as I rub my hand over his chest. Strangely, it’s comforting.

“Your flight is in a few hours,” Beau whispers dejectedly.

I press tighter against him, needing to burrow into his warmth. A clock chimes in the distance and my heart cracks in half. “Just a few more minutes.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

The words are so sweet, I almost believe them.

Beau drives me back to the airport with the attitude of a man seeing his lover off to war. Keeping my gaze off him and his unfairly perfect forearms is my only mission. Away from his perfect, horribly beautiful face. A man like Beau could never want a man like me, I remind myself, repeatedly, until my brain is forced to accept it.

Just keep my eyes trained on the rolling landscape out the window. When he finally pulls up at the airport, getting out of the car feels like an impossible act. After three days. What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Well, Claire will send you a survey asking about your experience.” I play with the edge of my shirt, twirling my finger around a stray string. I should cut it. “You’ve already paid for it.”

“Trevor.”

I swallow hard, keeping my gaze aimed out the window. “Thank you. This weekend was actually pretty great.”

“Trevor, will you look at me?”

Shaking my head violently, I’m unable to bear even the idea of looking at him. A parking cop blows his whistle and angrily points at us with wrath in his eyes. Time to flee. I pull the handle and push the door, but Beau tugs me back, and his mouth slams into mine with all the force of a car crash. He kisses me like he’s going to miss me. Like he can memorize the weight of my lips. And God, I kiss him the same way back. Which is absolutely bonkers. I’ve clearly lost it.

A pathetic whimper escapes me when he pulls away. His breath fans across my cheek, sending a ripple of want through me. I wish I could turn back time. The safety of his arms, of his bed, of his home, is incomparable, stealing all the relief I usually feel when returning home.

“If you ever need me, you know how to find me.” He swipes his thumb across my bottom lip with a rueful smile. “Goodbye, Trevor.”

Words no longer exist in my lizard brain, stealing my ability to reply without sounding like a bumbling idiot. I hurriedly grab my bag, quickly fleeing into the safety of the busy airport. Check-in is a blur, so is getting on the plane, so is the entire flight home. I don’t have any memory of the day until I’m standing in front of the all-too-familiar high-rise in downtown Atlanta.

None of the boys are at the clubhouse when I walk in. Even Claire is gone. The startling reality of being alone makes me feel sick enough to vomit. Dizzying nausea hits me with all the force of a Mack truck. Jesus. I can’t be alone now. Not if I want to stay sane.

Anyone up for margaritas?

Jackson

I’m in. Wacky Sunday?

Benji

I’m on a job

Eli

I’m in!

Benji

Wait there should be a rule against this

Eli

We will drink one in your honor

Benji

Whatever you bitches

Jackson

Excuse me?

Benji

Sorry sir

Eli

barf

The Cantina in an hour?

Jackson

Didn’t you just get back from the airport?

Yes

Eli: Damn that bad?

No, it was that good.

Jackson

We will be there in an hour!

Jackson always has my back. I wash quickly in the communal showers, brush a comb through my hair, and toss on a new set of clothes.

Nothing smells like Beau anymore. That realization hurts more than it ever should. I close my eyes for a brief moment to try to recall the scent of him. Blue skies, fresh-cut grass, cedar lingering on sheets, and hard work. Going the rest of my life without that smell seems truly unfair. Life isn’t fair though. It’s cruel and then you die.

Downtown Atlanta is fine, but it’s never felt like home. Despite me living here since I turned eighteen.

The Cantina is a newer Tex-Mex restaurant that we’ve been meeting up at lately. It has the biggest margaritas I’ve ever seen, and it doesn’t cost an arm and a leg. I easily spot my best friends because Jackson is a towering behemoth of a man. He really missed out by not playing basketball professionally. I know the pain of that for him though, so I feel like shit for even thinking it.

“Spill,” Eli demands the moment I take a seat at the table. His big doe eyes blink at me in fear and worry, which I hate, but I also oddly appreciate. Sometimes it’s nice to be cared about. The operative word is sometimes.

“I had a job this weekend.” I take a large gulp of the margarita Jackson slides across the table. “I think I accidentally started to make it more real than I should.”

“Ah, kid.” Jackson shakes his head, leaning on his elbows.

I grimace as I play with a coaster. “I know.”

“And what if it was real?”

Eli is always like this. He sees the best in everyone. A hopeless romantic at heart where I’m more of a realist. The odds of a john falling in love with me, or my friends is zip to none. Pretty Woman is just a lovely fairy tale, an urban legend, not a true story.

“Eli,” I scoff with a roll of my eyes.

“It’s not impossible!” Eli argues testily.

Jackson taps the table between us like a good referee. “We’re here to listen to Trevor. If he thinks it can’t happen, then it can’t happen. What do you need from us?”

I pinch my nose to fight angry tears from falling. “I’ve got too much baggage for this.”

“Trevor.” Eli reaches across the table to take my hand in his with a kind smile. Nausea sends my stomach swirling at his perfect, sweet kindness. “Falling in love isn’t a bad thing, even if it’s just for the weekend, even if they don’t love you back. Sometimes it’s nice just to love, to know you’re capable of it.”

“Ugh.” I angrily yank my hand away to roughly press my heel to my forehead.

“In other news, the bartender is eye-fucking the shit out of Eli.” Jackson stealthily nods towards the bar. We all sneak glances that way.

Eli smirks, sending the bartender a coy wave. I try not to laugh when the classically handsome bartender waves back, smiling like a lovestruck dope. Eli is so easy to love. My best friend. He’s a couple years older than me but I don’t think age really matters when you connect with someone. Eli is proof of that.

“Think I should go for it?” Eli asks while biting his lip.

I kick him under the table. “One thousand percent.”

Eli kicks me back softly, then climbs from the table with a dreamy sigh. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” I promise him, and I mean it. I’m always fine.

Eli sweetly pats my head and happily skips off towards the bar. Jackson and I watch on for a few minutes as Eli leans against the bar, butt wiggling a little as he sways on his feet to flirt with the bartender. The man sure has game, without even trying. Must be so nice.

“You know that not everyone hires us because they have some ulterior motive.”

“Ugh, Jackson,” I groan with a bitter laugh. “Seriously. I get it.”

Jackson skewers me with an assessing look, one dark eyebrow raised. He’s not the eldest of us fake boyfriends, but his energy has always been of the boyfriend wrangler. Even our protector. But he’s also wickedly smart and plays the stock market in a way that feels borderline illegal. I’m not sure he even needs to be a fake boyfriend. I think he honestly just likes it.

“You know we love you, right? You’re not just a boyfriend, but our best friend.”

Ugh, damn Jackson and his ability to see right through me. To see right to all my deepest issues. I’m not sure I’ll ever accept that Jackson, Eli, and Benji actually love me. To my core. Sometimes I feel so rotten, so unlovable. Doesn’t everyone though? At least, that’s how I reassure myself that I’m just deeply normal.

“I do know, I swear.” I reach across the table and pat his stubbled cheek, earning me a pretend bite to my hand. “Be nice to me!”

“We love you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I love you too.”

Elijah’s raucous laugh has us turning back towards the bar. His face is an inch from the bartender’s and they’re whispering amongst themselves.

“Wanna see a movie?” Jackson asks as he throws a couple of bills down on the table.

“Sure.”

“New Ryan Reynolds?”

I sigh dreamily. “You really know the way to my heart.”

Jackson wraps a comforting arm around my shoulders, keeping it there through the entire walk to the theater. Because Jackson knows me so well, he orders us a large Coke and a giant-ass popcorn to share. The cinema is honestly one of my favorite places in the entire world. The air-conditioning is always on blast, it’s quiet when the movie is on, and the snacks are ace. What else could I ask for?

Jackson even springs for the fancy recliner seats so we kick back and attack the popcorn as the ads start. We fight over the popcorn for a while, idly chatting during the previews. He catches me up on his boyfriend shenanigans, and I listen, comforted by the soft tenor of his voice.

“You sure you’re okay, kid?” Jackson asks, just as the lights are dimming.

Worry rushes through me, just for a moment, that maybe he can really see me. See through Trevor to the core of me. But when I glance over at him, his gaze isn’t knowing, only concern radiates from him. Concern is an easier emotion for me to handle from him.

“I’m sure,” I say, the lie as easy as breathing.