Chapter 9 #2
He wanted me. He wanted me. Bash wanted me.
The words echoed through my head. I hadn’t imagined it. He really was attracted to me. I felt like I might float away if not for the solid ground beneath my feet. “I want you too.”
“So what do we do now?” Bash asked, echoing my own thoughts.
“I don’t know. I’ve never been in this situation before.” Had never allowed myself to be, but that was neither here nor there.
“Neither have I.” He was quiet for a moment, staring out at the horizon. “My whole life, I’ve done the responsible thing. The safe thing. Follow the rules, don’t make waves, honor my family’s expectations.”
“And now?”
He looked at me, and something in his expression made my breath catch. “Now I’m thinking maybe the responsible thing isn’t always the right thing.”
We started walking again, but slower, like neither of us wanted this time together to end. The beach curved ahead of us, disappearing around a rocky outcrop that promised more private coves beyond.
“I told myself I could live without this,” Bash said after another long silence. “Without giving in to my attraction to men. And then you kissed me last night, and I realized I’ve been lying to myself.”
“I know how you feel.”
“Have you ever…?”
“Been with a man?” I swallowed. “No. I kissed a guy once, but that was it. The risks were too high for me.”
He hummed in understanding.
I bit my lip. Should I tell him the whole truth? He’d find out anyway if this went anywhere because it wasn’t like I would ever be able to hide my utter lack of experience. “I’ve never been with a woman either.”
He sharply turned his head, but then his expression softened. “No?”
“I couldn’t do it. I know some men can still be… aroused by women, even when they identify as gay, but I can’t. I’m one hundred percent fully gay, which is highly inconvenient considering who I am.”
“Kinda ironic, then, that they dubbed you Prince Playboy.”
I snorted. “Right? I will admit it’s the result of a rather deliberate campaign on my end to keep the paparazzi from discovering the truth. Young men are supposed to want to date and have sex, so I gave them what they were looking for.”
“I take it your family wouldn’t be supportive of you being gay? Or, at least, your father?”
He knew that my mum had passed away then.
“I’m not close with my father. Not close at all.
My sister would be fine with it, I think, but I’ve never said anything to her.
I didn’t want to burden her with something she’d have to keep quiet.
As for the king…” Tightness in my throat made it hard to breathe.
“He’s made it crystal clear that he doesn’t want any more scandals.
Obviously, me coming out would create one, so… ”
Bash reached for my hand and I let him take it my heart skipping a beat when he laced our fingers together. “I’m sorry.”
His words felt true. “How about your family?”
He immediately shook his head. “We may not be the royal family, but my family would not be amused, and that’s the understatement of the century. I think my mom would accept it, but I’m not sure about my dad. He’s old-fashioned in that sense, a hardcore Marine.”
So we were in the same boat, he and I. Both forced to stay in the closet when we wanted nothing more than to burst out of it. “I’m sorry too.”
I’d never thought of the sound of waves as comforting, but it was now, embracing me like an eternal reminder that, yes, everything flowed and maybe one day, our circumstances would change as well.
“So where does that leave us?” Bash asked, and wasn’t that the key question?
“I don’t know.”
“We’re already supposed to be a couple.”
We were, but where was he going with that? “So?”
“So if anyone sees us together, we can claim afterward that it was to sell our fake-dating cover.”
“Are you saying you want us to… explore things?”
He snorted. “Explore. Nice choice of words. Very diplomatic.”
“Thank you. I’ve had many years of training, so I’m glad to see they’re paying off.”
He tugged on my hand, stopping me. “I would be open to exploring this chemistry between us, yes. It’ll be a safe way for both of us to get some experience, right?
After all, everyone involved is aware we’re living in an apartment meant for couples.
In public, we’d stick to holding hands and maybe the occasional expected mild PDA, but in private, we could explore further. ”
I slowly blinked. Would that work? It was hard to argue that we would be doing exactly what we’d been set up to do: present as a couple.
How could anyone object to that if we’d done it to maintain our cover story?
It would be the only chance I’d ever get, and from what Bash had told me, that might be true for him as well. “I think I’d be okay with that.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded. Look, I was screwed either way, so what did it matter for me? All I could do was hope and pray I would never be found out, and if someone did recognize me, that the excuse of fake dating would hold up.
“So we’re doing this?” he asked. “Really doing this, despite all the reasons we probably shouldn’t?”
Another nod.
Bash’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me again, right there on the sand with the Pacific Ocean as our witness. Instead, he squeezed my hand and we started walking again, making our way back to the car.
The walk felt like floating. Every step carried us away from the conversation that had changed everything and toward whatever came next.
I was hyperaware of Bash beside me, of our joined hands swinging slightly between us, of the way he kept glancing at me like he was seeing me differently now.
The nervous energy from this morning had transformed into something else entirely—anticipation mixed with relief mixed with the kind of giddy excitement I hadn’t felt since I was a child.
We’d done it. We’d actually talked about it, admitted what we wanted, found a way forward that didn’t require either of us to sacrifice everything we’d worked for. It felt almost too good to be true.
By the time we reached his truck, my cheeks hurt from trying to suppress a smile that wanted to take over my entire face.
The drive back to campus felt different than the drive out. Less nervous energy, more anticipation. “We’ll take it slow,” Bash said as we pulled into the campus parking lot. “Figure out what works, what doesn’t.”
“How slow?” I asked, because the memory of his hands on me was still vivid enough to make patience seem like a foreign concept.
Bash’s laugh was low and warm and full of promise. “Slow enough so both of us can adjust. Fast enough that we don’t go completely insane.”
That was a compromise I could live with.