5. Nick #2
“Whatever you’re comfortable with is fine.”
“You’re sooooo not helping,” I grumbled. “I’m trying to get into character and you’re not giving me anything to work with.”
“Just be yourself,” he said. “It’ll be more believable if you’re not trying to play a part.”
“What have you told people about me?”
“That you’re younger, attractive, and completely smitten with me.” He shrugged. “I left the details vague on purpose.”
“I can work with that. But what if people ask about me? Am I supposed to answer honestly? What if they ask what I do for work? Or how we met? We need a backstory.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose we do. We could tell people we met at your work. Your café job,” he added. “I went in for coffee, we got to talking, and the rest is history.”
“That’s a solid beginning, but we need to spice it up a bit. Why did we start talking? There needs to be a meet-cute beyond you ordered coffee.”
“There does?”
“Yes. People like details and cute stories. Did you hit on me? Or was I the aggressor? Was it an instant thing, or did one of us have to work for it?” I studied him for a beat.
“You were totally the one who hit on me. I resisted, of course. But you wouldn’t be deterred.
On your third visit, you gave me your card.
I texted, and we started talking. I made you wait to take me out because I’m classy like that, but after a few weeks, we went on a date. Your turn.”
“My turn?”
“Yeah. Now you fill in the blanks. Where did you take me?”
“I took you to dinner—”
“Boring.”
“What’s wrong with dinner?”
“Nothing, if you’re boring. You were trying to woo me. You gotta do better than dinner.”
He paused. “What if it was a rooftop picnic?”
“Now we’re talking. Then what?”
“Then we spent the weekend in my room getting to know each other in the biblical sense.” He grinned.
“Not loving that I’m apparently easy enough to spend a whole weekend in bed with you after one rooftop picnic, but I’ll allow it.”
He chuckled.
“Okay, so we’ve got our meet-cute. What about me? Am I using my real name? What do I tell people if they ask about my job? I don’t exactly fit into your world.”
“You can go by whatever name you want, but you don’t have to hide who you are.”
“You’d be okay with people knowing I’m a stripper and not just a barista?” I asked, unable to hide my surprise.
“Why not? In fact, I think it would be highly entertaining to see people’s reactions to the news.”
“Devious. I love it.” Leaning back against the seat, I grinned. “We’ve got the meet-cute, our basic backstory, and I’ve got my character arc. What’s your favorite color?”
“Green.”
“Mine’s yellow. What about sports? Do you follow them at all?”
“No.”
“Me neither. How about hobbies? What do you do for fun?”
“Fun?” Vlado laughed from the front of the car. “Do you even remember what that is, Ev?”
“You do seem like a workaholic,” I agreed. “I like to shop and hang out with my friends. What about food? What do you like to eat? What’s your favorite restaurant?”
“Why do I feel like I’m being interrogated?”
“Because I need to know details if we’re going to fool people.” I rubbed my face. “Have you ever been in a relationship? You don’t seem to know a lot about them.”
“One.” His eyes clouded and his features hardened. “Let’s just say he wasn’t all that interested in the details of my life, only in my bank account.”
“Oof, that sucks. My ex-girlfriend—”
“Girlfriend?” he cut in sharply. “You’re not gay?”
“No.” I looked at him sidelong.
“I suppose sexuality really is fluid, especially when cash is involved,” he said bitterly.
“Woooow.” I faced him then, my throat closing around a bubble of hot anger. “You’re really going to pull that bullshit after you approached me and offered me cash to play a part? Maybe you should have asked what my sexuality is if my being gay is so important to you.”
“I didn’t think I had to with the way you were undressing me with your eyes at the club,” he said. “How many other men have you duped with your gay-for-pay act?”
“Ev—” Vlado chimed from the front seat.
“Gay for pay? Do you have any idea how offensive that is?”
“Offensive? You kids think everything is offensive.”
“Do not pull that boomer shit on me, asswipe.”
“I’m a millennial.”
“Boomer is a state of mind. And for the record, I was undressing you with my eyes at the club because I’m bi.”
He snapped his mouth closed.
“Yeah. Bi, as in bi sexual. The B in LGBTQIA. I like guys and girls. I’ve been with both, and if that’s a problem, then let me out of the car now and find yourself another fake boytoy to get your daddy’s money.”
“I’m sorry.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
“Can we forget it?”
I appreciated that he was quick to apologize but … “No. We can move past it, but I’m not going to forget just because it’s convenient for you.” Crossing my arms, I stared out the window. The scenery flashed by in a blur of lights and shadowy shapes, all out of focus, the same as I felt.
“Fair enough.” He sighed. “I am sorry.”
“You said that. But the thing about apologies is that it’s not up to you if I accept it or not. It’s up to me.”
“Do you accept it?”
“Jury’s still out,” I said through clenched teeth.
Silence descended on us. I refused to look at Evan.
“My ex told me he was bi,” he eventually said softly.
“And?” I could tell this wasn’t easy for him to say based on his tone, but I was still smarting from his outburst. I’d listen, but that didn’t mean I had to put my feelings aside to accommodate his.
“And he wasn’t. He was very straight.” He paused, like he was waiting for me to say something. I didn’t. “He pretended to enjoy being with me to get access to my wealth. We were together for almost two years. I was planning on proposing.”
Now he had my interest. I glanced at him.
“I came home from a business trip early and found him in our bed with a woman. That’s when I learned he wasn’t attracted to men and was only pretending to enjoy sleeping with me. It was all an act and he’d been cheating on me with women our entire relationship.”
“That’s really shitty.”
“It is. But my trauma isn’t yours. I’m sorry I projected that on you. I have no issues with you being bisexual.”
I sighed. “I get why you did it. But you have no idea how much biphobia I’ve had to deal with, from both sides, since I came out. I’m not gay enough for the gays, or straight enough for women. It sucks to be shoved into a box because people can’t accept that not everyone fits into stereotypes.”
“I’m sorry, Nick.”
“I accept your apology. This time. Pull that shit on me again and I’m going full crazy bitch on you.”
“Noted.” The corner of his mouth tilted up in a grin.
“How much longer until we get to wherever we’re going?” I asked as my stomach rumbled.
“About half an hour,” Vlado answered.
“Will there be food at this thing?” I asked Evan.
“Some food, but nothing substantial.”
“Oh.” My stomach grumbled again.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Yeah. I forgot to eat lunch and I didn’t have time to have dinner after work.”
“What have you eaten today?”
“Um.” I thought back. “Coffee. Iced coffee. And a muffin.”
“That’s it?”
“And water.”
“Vlado,” he said.
“On it.”
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“We’re stopping to get you something to eat.”
I flushed hot at the concern on his face. “Thanks. Sorry. I hope this doesn’t make us late.”
“Doesn’t matter if we are. Your health is more important than a party.”
“What do you like?” Vlado looked at me in the rearview mirror. “We can hit a drive-thru or stop somewhere.”
“A drive-thru is good. I’ll eat literally anything.” I paused. “Unless it’s not food, or it’s still alive. Or marzipan. Those are my hard no’s.”
Vlado chuckled. “I can work with that.”
I peered at Evan to make sure he wasn’t angry. He smiled and patted my knee reassuringly.
That simple touch sent flickers of heat through me that started in my stomach and went straight to my balls.
He’s being nice, don’t read into things , I warned myself.
Evan’s phone rang.
“I have to get this,” he said at the screen.
I turned my attention to the window once again, as Vlado drove down a residential street.
Outside of his outburst, Evan seemed like a decent guy. Pretending to be his boyfriend shouldn’t be too hard.