Chapter 2 #2
I’ll never forget the day she charged in like a tiny, pissed-off knight in shining armor.
My parents’ reaction to learning I was gay was…
not great. Some days they simply pretended I had never told them.
Other days, they continued setting me up on surprise blind dates with random women.
On the worst of them, there were lots of sharp, disappointed words that cut deeper than I liked to admit.
When I finally reached my breaking point, I called Cho in tears.
She drove three hours to help me pack my bags.
Despite how close she had once been to my mom and dad, she severed every tie with them on the spot.
At only seventeen years old, she walked into that house with her shoulders squared and her spine forged from steel.
She supported me through every single step and never once looked back.
“Why is it so unfair,” she asks with a bright, sunny laugh, “that you, a dude, are going to be the most beautiful bridesmaid at my wedding?”
“Just lucky, I guess.”
She pulls back but keeps her hands wrapped firmly around my arms. “I’m lucky you’re not wearing makeup, otherwise you’d completely outshine me at my own damn wedding.”
“Hey, don’t tempt me,” I tease. “I know a guy who can draw eyeliner so sharp it could be lethal.”
She smiles, but a familiar shadow flickers across her face—one that tells me she’s holding something back.
“You know you’re shit at keeping secrets from me, Cho. What’s up?”
“Okay, so there’s been a little bit of a mix-up…”
“A little bit?”
Cho holds her thumb and pointer finger up, so close they almost touch. “Teeny tiny. Practically non-existent.”
“Uh huh,” I say with a knowing nod, waving my hand for her to continue.
“We kind of miscalculated the number of rooms we needed for the bridal party, and we’re one short. There’s nothing available, and since you have an extra bed, I was hoping…” She drags the word out with a wince.
I take a slow, deep breath, trying to push past the sharp twist of disappointment that churns in my gut. I already understand exactly what she needs. And I understand why she’s asking me, of all people.
Nice, dependable, agreeable Tai—of course I’m the one she comes to when she needs help. She knows me better than almost anyone—knows I’ll bend and keep on bending until I almost break.
“If there were any other options, I would ask someone else,” she continues, as if she can read every thought crossing my mind. “It’s just… they all either only have one bed or, well, they’re couples, and…”
“And I’m single.” The bitterness slips into my tone before I can stop it. Guilt immediately sinks its sharp little teeth into me when her face falls. This is her wedding. I’m here as her guest, on her dime, and it isn’t fair for me to complain.
I grip her shoulder with a gentle shake. “You know I’ll do anything to help my favorite cousin.”
“Even wear a lilac suit,” she says, her sunny expression blooming again.
“Hey, don’t act like that’s a chore. I’m fucking thrilled to wear that thing.” My smile comes more easily this time as she pulls out her phone, her fingers already flying across the screen. “Who’s this new roommate of mine?”
“A college buddy of Andrew’s. I sent him a text and told him to come on up.”
“Great,” I say, rolling my eyes because I genuinely can’t help it. “You’re sticking me with a frat boy?”
“Oh, god no. Connor is a nice guy. He was older when he started school, so his partying days are pretty far behind him. If I remember correctly, he’s in his forties now.”
Relief sweeps through me, washing away the quiet tension that had been building in my chest. I force my jaw to unclench, easing the strain on my molars.
A nice guy.
I can handle a nice guy.
It won’t be beer pong and drunken hookups interrupting my vacation, or late-night shenanigans disturbing my sleep. This will be fine.
Famous last words.
“Let me clear off the bed,” I say, glancing around at the mess I’ve made by scattering my belongings everywhere. Cho stands just inside the doorway, chatting happily about the upcoming week and all the wedding plans. When the elevator dings down the hall, I take another slow, calming breath.
Deep voices drift toward us. Andrew’s heavy southern twang blends with a rich, soothing baritone that catches my attention instantly. They draw closer, and the moment their footsteps reach the open doorframe, I turn, ready to push through the usual awkward pleasantries of meeting a stranger.
My feet forget how to work. I stumble over the carpet, eyes stretching wide across my face.
Holy fucking himbo.
A broad back faces the doorway, wrapped in a ridiculously tacky Hawaiian shirt covered in bright flowers and…
Bigfoot? My gaze travels upward to a head full of dark, wavy hair that curls softly over the nape of a thick, tanned neck.
It’s almost a mullet, but not on purpose—like he simply got tired of the strands brushing his ears, trimmed it, and never bothered to style it afterward.
Somehow, what should look ridiculous comes across as effortlessly hot.
Khaki shorts stretch tight across a perfect bubble butt that has me swallowing hard before they cling to thighs so thick they could crush my head between them and I’d probably thank him for the privilege. Those thighs taper down into calves so thoroughly toned they belong in a museum.
Jesus Christ, the body on this man.
The muscle.
The fucking… everything.
When I catch Cho’s amused gaze, I realize I’m staring. I narrow my eyes and pull myself together as I step closer to the group.
“Connor, meet Tai, your roommate for the week,” Cho says brightly.
My eyes land on his chest and slowly climb as he turns to face me. At five-nine, I’m not the tallest guy around, but I’m hardly short. Still, my chin has to tilt higher and higher as I try to guess his height. No less than six-four, because he’s close to Dmitri’s size, only a hell of a lot thicker.
“Hi,” I manage, suddenly dumbstruck as my gaze snags on his soft lips that look far too gentle against the dark stubble and sharp, angular lines of his jaw. When his mouth curves into a grin, a matching pair of deep pits carve into his cheeks.
Hello, dimples. Goodbye, sanity.
My eyes finally lift to meet his. They’re hazel, kind and crinkled at the corners. Thick, dark lashes frame them so densely they could almost pass for eyeliner, and somehow even his heavy brows seem to be smiling.
When the hell did eyebrows learn how to smile?
“Hi,” he replies, his voice low and easy as he takes a half step closer. In that single moment, I realize this vacation has just become a whole lot more exciting.