Curious Cameron (Secret Lives of Hot Twinks #1)

Chapter 1

Cameron

"Are you sure I should be here?" I whisper to Trevor, desperately looking up at him for reassurance. Or maybe I just want permission to leave. There are so many people at this party. Even though the house is big and bright and the air conditioner is working overtime I still feel like I'm about to faint.

"Of course, Cam. You're with me." Trevor drapes a friendly arm around my shoulder and gives me a quick squeeze. "Let me show you off a bit and then we'll go home, okay?"

"Okay," I murmur, but I'm already dreading every second of this. I want to go back to our assigned ticky-tacky house. I might hide in it for the rest of my life.

Fort Cactus isn't what I thought it would be. Or more like I never expected an army base to have a whole slice of classic American suburbia planted smack in the middle of it.

It’s kind of surreal.

As Trevor takes me around the room, introducing me to our new neighbors and his fellow soldiers, I feel out of place. And out of sorts.

Is it possible for jet lag to be permanent? It's been almost two weeks since I stepped off that plane yet I haven't been able to shake off these weird feelings.

I nervously twist the ring on my left hand while Trevor stops to introduce me to people. Most of the conversations float right over my head. I don't have to do much other than smile and nod, but eventually, someone asks me something outright.

"So, what do you do?"

"Um. I was in college, but…nothing right now." Shit. I should have an answer prepared for that. Because that's what neighbors do at a party, right?

They talk. They share things. Everybody gets to know each other. Compare lawncare tactics or whatever.

The problem is I can't let any of these guys get too close.

They can't find out I'm living a big fat lie.

"Cam, c'mon. Don't be so shy. Or modest. Cam's an artist and he's a great one. He was going to art school, but he’s on a break.”

I muster a smile at Trevor. It's an awfully kind way for him to tell people I burned out and flunked.

"Welcome to the neighborhood," someone else says, "and congratulations to you two lovebirds. So nice to have another gay couple on this block."

Yeah, I did more than move in with Trevor. We…we got married.

I'm gay married, to my gay best friend, but I'm not gay.

And the guilt about that is starting to eat me alive.

◆◆◆

"So, are all the guys here…gay?" I ask in a whisper while peeking from behind the window curtain.

"On this lane? Yeah, pretty much."

Trevor doesn't whisper. His raised voice carries through the AC-laced air, his answer traveling from somewhere else in his house.

Our house.

I've been here for over a week, but it's still hard to believe that this beautiful place is my home too. Moving in with my best friend in the whole world isn't exactly wild, but the reason for my relocation is certainly…unconventional.

"Marlon's technically bi, I guess. Marriage number one was to a woman before he met his Mikey." Trevor's laugh reaches the living room before he does. "Blew up his life for that bratty twink."

I don't know who they are. While I've seen a few of the neighbors in passing, I've yet to officially introduce myself to anyone. Or let Trevor take me out to tour the base. Honestly, I've been too anxious to do it. I haven't even gone out to get the mail on my own yet.

It's early evening, but the sun is still out in full force today. I watch the neighbors as they go about their lives. Jogging, fiddling with their cars, relaxing on the porch, or tending to their manicured lawns and showy gardens.

I don't know why I'm trying to be discreet while spying on the street. If I can see everything and everyone out there, they can certainly see me. The curtain is some dainty sheer material that doesn't offer any protection.

It's also really blue. Cerulean, to be exact. And really soft. What's this made out of?

I'm distracted from my impromptu reconnaissance as I pinch the fabric between my fingers for a better feel of it. When I look out the window again, I spot two men and a dog so small you could wrap it in a burrito. They’ve stopped on the sidewalk directly in front of our house.

One of them is an older man with graying hair and the other one is a shorter, slighter man. The smaller guy looks right about my age. Somewhere in his early twenties. They’re waving right at me. I awkwardly lift my hand before I even more awkwardly turn around.

"Cameron?"

Oh, shit. I've missed something. Trevor only uses my full name when I've zoned out. Embarrassment colors my cheeks. "Yeah? Sorry."

Trevor just smiles at me and repeats himself. "Get over here, dude. I want to finish putting up the rest of the curtains and need your help."

"You know you don't need to do all this for me." I say that but I'm already I'm hustling over to help.

Trevor's been on a nesting kick since we moved in and got the essentials sorted out. Every day he comes back with a new piece of furniture or some random thing to make the house feel more homey.

Today, it’s the curtains for the living room. Yesterday it was a giant turquoise wall clock for the den.

"This is your place."

"Hey, don't talk like that," Trevor says with a quick frown before his lips spread open into a happy grin. "It's our place. Besides, I want my pretty boy husband living in a nice place."

I try to smile back at Trevor, but it’s hard. He’s done so much for me already. I don’t know how I’m ever going to repay him for all his kindness and support. I play with the plastic opening of the next set of curtains while Trevor gets the rod down. "You're not going to regret this… arrangement?"

The only reason we tied the knot was so Trevor could loop me into his health insurance plan. And because getting married is the only way Trevor can get out of the barracks and into the military family housing on base.

"What? No way. You’re not getting away from me that easy, Cam.” Trevor flashes me a playful grin.

Trevor's so casual and positive about this whole situation. Though that's always been Trevor. Nothing beats him down. Or stops him. Once he wants something, he goes after it with a ruthless determination that is as heartwarming as it is terrifying.

To be honest, it's probably why we're friends.

Trevor and I couldn't be more different, but that's why he seems to like me so much. He's the offense to my defense. The sun to my moon, the fire to my ice. We grew up right next door to each other, but we never grew apart.

Trevor must not trust the look on my face, because he chatters on while he pulls over a chair with one hand. He uses it as a step stool while he puts up the curtains.

"What we have is a win-win situation as far as I'm concerned." Trevor stops at his task and gives me a thoughtful look. "Is the gay thing weirding you out?"

"Never. It's nothing like that."

I might be straight, but I've never cared about being called gay. The accusation has been lobbed at me like an insult my whole life. For being short and on the skinny side. For being too blond and too good at art.

For being too close to Trevor.

Our hometown loved Trevor as a football player, but they never accepted he was gay. It was like they could only love one part of him and not the whole person. I've never thought of my best friend split in half like that.

He's always just been Trevor to me.

I rub the side of my neck and glance over toward the window again. "It's just…we're lying. Technically. Won't everyone hate me if the truth gets out? What about your army buddies and all the neighbors?"

I can't stop thinking about the worst things ever happening. Trevor getting kicked out of the military. Becoming homeless. Never being able to go back to college and finish my art degree.

"They don't need to know, man." Trevor finishes hanging up the curtain and jumps off the chair. "Hey, look at me."

Trevor’s voice puts a plug in the unending drain of my swirling thoughts.

His broad palm engulfs my shoulder. Trevor's always been taller than me. Bigger and stronger in every way. He's always been a force to be reckoned with while I'm just a speck to be ignored.

"Our relationship, our marriage?" Trevor's eyes light up when he says that word, but his face stays serious. "It's nobody's business. I told everybody I know that I got lucky and I'm marrying my best friend. That's not a lie. So what if I gotta get my rocks off elsewhere?”

"That doesn't bother you?" I ask. "What if you meet somebody special? An actual gay dude that wants to be real married to you?"

Like our neighbors Marlon and Mikey, I think. Damn it. This is a conversation we should have had way before we eloped in a quickie Las Vegas ceremony.

Trevor's eyes crinkle and his lips pull up in a smile. He squeezes my shoulder gently. "That's not gonna happen, man. Look. I've been sparing you the full details of my sex life, but uh, I'm kind of a pump 'em and dump 'em champ. I don't date and I'm not looking to start up that white picket life."

I raise an eyebrow. "Trev…this house literally has a white picket fence."

He laughs. The sound is so joyful and full of warmth it almost feels like the air conditioner might have busted. I'm suddenly hot all over. My stomach clenches hard.

"That comes standard with all the family housing here on the base. Look, I'm being real with you, Cam. You're my best friend and you're the most important person in the whole world to me. If I wasn’t married to you, I wouldn’t be married to anyone."

Trevor's big brown eyes are full of sincerity as he looks down at me.

"Fuck what anyone else would think about us. What we have together…this is real to me. Is it real to you?"

I breathe deeply. I take it in and let it go. "Yeah," I croak out with a fast nod. "It's real."

Trevor gives both of my shoulders a rough squeeze and that's it. The big heart-to-heart is done.

"Did you take your meds today?"

My eyes widen. No, I didn't. "Uh. I forgot."

Again. I forgot again. What's wrong with me? Why can't I ever get it together?

It's the ADHD, obviously. But that shouldn't be an excuse. Well, it's not an excuse. But learning not to blame myself as my default reaction is going to take time.

Trevor shakes his head at me, still smiling. "Well, too late now. Let's figure out some routine so you don't gotta remember. I'll handle dinner tonight. What are you in the mood for?”

There's no way I can decide that. "Uh, you pick."

Trevor grabs his car keys and then he's off. I peer out from the window, watching him drive away in his cherry red truck. While Trevor is gone, I try to do something useful with myself. I start to do the dishes, but after I do a few cups, I realize we left the curtain packaging all over the living room.

I dry my hands and make my way back there to pick it all up.

And then…well, it’s just one thing after another. I skip between chores around the house. A little bit of everything gets done, but nothing is completed.

By the time Trevor is back home, we still don't have any clean plates.

"Don't worry about it," Trevor says with his trademark laugh when I apologize for not finishing the dishes. "Let's just eat."

He got us a pizza for dinner.

And paper plates.