Final Play (Fake Boyfriend 6)

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Definitely not the way Lennon was doing it anyway.”

“Shit,” Lennon hisses.

I still can’t talk.

With nothing to wipe myself with, I put my dick back in my shorts and do them back up. When I turn, I casually lean against the tree with my cum-covered hand and subtly—at least I hope to fucking God it’s subtle—wipe it on the bark.

I can only see Maddox and Damon’s silhouettes in the dark. “What’s up?” I play dumb. I’m good at it. Just ask Lennon.

They laugh again.

“Have a good night, guys,” Damon says and pushes Maddox along.

“We don’t get to mock them more?”

“No. Soren let the plane thing with us go, so we should be bigger people and let this go.”

“What happened on the plane?” I call out.

“If we tell you, we get to mock you,” Maddox says.

“Pass,” Lennon cuts in. “Goodnight, guys.”

As soon as they’re gone farther up the path, Lennon and I let out a collective breath.

“So … getting caught? Not as fun as I thought it would be,” Lennon says. “But also, in my head, whoever caught us would be totally hot and someone we don’t know and they’d offer to join us.”

“And they’d look like Chris Hemsworth?” I ask.

“Of course.”

“If I was ever okay with sharing you, I’d let you have your fantasy, but don’t hold your breath, because you’re mine.” Forever, my mind thinks.

“Could you imagine me with more than one guy? I think my inner teenage nerd would have a stroke before any of the good stuff could happen.”

“Accurate.”

Lennon loops his arm in mine, and we make our way back to our hut with absolutely nothing changed between us.

And I couldn’t be happier.

Chapter Fifteen

LENNON

Ollie, an on-air position, and happiness.

I truly believe that’s all I need. But I’d be lying if I said our conversation didn’t keep replaying in my head on a loop.

We keep busy by hanging out with the guys and watching Jet and Soren’s epic love story begin in front of our eyes.

The most surprising thing about that is Soren’s still breathing.

Guess Matt doesn’t want to go to prison for murder seeing as he’s about to be a dad.

We spend our days exploring Fiji. We drink, we laugh, and we all endure the obligatory ribbing that always happens when our group is together.

At least Maddox and Damon keep their promise and don’t tell everyone what they caught Ollie and me doing. Otherwise, it would be endless mocking.

So far, we’ve been relatively unscathed apart from Noah’s singular taunt about what the future holds for Ollie and me.

Which brings me back to my boyfriend’s mini freak-out the other night.

I lie awake, staring at the wood ceiling of our luxury hut, trying not to think about what would’ve happened if I was the type of guy to want marriage.

If one question can rattle Ollie’s confidence in what we have, that can’t be a good thing.

He stirs beside me, curling into my side and then continuing a light snore.

I don’t want to do anything today but this.

I want to hold my loveable giant in my arms and remind him of what we have. It’s not so much a need to prove our love, but a desire to show him that he shouldn’t ever have to worry about us. We’re solid.

The only time I’ve ever thought about marriage with Ollie is when his ma gives us her look. Oh, yeah, she has a look. A stern one that she covers with a smile.

She has already thrown two weddings for her sons, one a same-sex wedding, so I don’t know why she’s pushing for her other three to get hitched too. News flash, Ma Strömberg: marriage doesn’t always equal happily ever afters.

Take my parents, who after twenty-eight years together filed for divorce the second my little sister graduated from college.

Vows of forever aren’t appealing to me when you have a back-out clause attached.

I want to do something for Ollie to show him how committed I am to us no matter what. If in a few years he decides he has to be a father, I could live with that. It’s doubtful that’ll happen with his brothers giving him a billion nieces and nephews to dote on instead, but if he wants it, I’ll give it to him. I’ll give him anything he wants.

Even marriage.

I just don’t need these things.

All I want is Ollie’s support, to get over my stage fright and move forward in my career, and above all, to be happy.

Whatever that might entail.

It’s hard to know how to show that though without some big declaration of love like a marriage proposal.

I’m still thinking about it when Ollie wakes properly.

He trails his lips up my shoulder and buries his head in my neck. His blond hair tickles my nose.

Ollie’s large hand runs down my side and grips my hip to roll me toward him.