Deke (Fake Boyfriend 3)

Some of the players look at me weird, like I’m some sort of puck bunny, but most of them keep walking.

Jet texts back saying he left for a date as soon as the game was over, and apparently, it’s going so well I shouldn’t go home until later. Like, a lot later.

Great.

I’m about to give up and think Ollie’s gone too, but as I push off the wall, I run into two people who have familiar faces.

Oh, sweet Neil Patrick Harris, this is not good.

“Clark,” Ollie’s mom singsongs. Ollie’s parents’ matching smiles are a little unnerving.

My heart pounds. “Uh … hi, Mr. and Mrs. Strömberg. Didn’t expect to see you here.” Or ever, for that matter.

“Ollie didn’t tell you we were coming?” she asks. “We wouldn’t have missed it. We had faith it’d turn out better, obviously, but we were here just in case.”

I nod, not knowing what else to do. “W-why … I mean …” Why are they being nice to me? Last time I’d checked, Ollie had said he told them I cheated on him.

“Why what, dear?” Ollie’s mom says.

“Umm …”

The door clicks open again, and a towering presence appears behind me.

“Ma. Dad,” Ollie says. I swear I hear him curse under his breath. “Hey, can you give me and Le—Clark a minute?”

They give us a peculiar look, but then his dad points toward the parking garage. “We’ll be in the car.”

Ollie smiles, but it looks fake. “Thanks.”

He pulls away from where his teammates are still pouring out of the stadium.

“I have a confession to make” is the first thing out of his mouth. “I lied” is the second.

“Lied? About what?”

“About telling them you cheated on me. I … I, uh … oh, God, this is bad.” He takes a deep breath. “I didn’t tell them we broke up. They still think we’re together.”

I step back. “Why? I mean, how? What?”

“Our stupid plan worked. Ma hasn’t bugged me about coming out in six months. She’s told me if I want to keep you, I’ll have to face it eventually, but she’s stopped with all the pro-LGBTQ crap and hasn’t mentioned that video of Adam Rippon interviewing his own mom in ages.”

“Oh, the one where they talk about him deciding to come out before the Olympics?”

“Yeah, that one. Ma can recite that interview word for word, but it’s been months. It’s the longest break I’ve gotten from all her idealist talk.”

“That’s great.” It’s a little sad he had to lie about having a boyfriend to get them to back off, but the important thing is they are. “It’s your life. You can tell them whatever, but what has this got to do with me? Other than they still think I’m Clark?”

“I told them you were out of town on business, which is why you couldn’t be here tonight. I didn’t think … I never thought you’d run into each other.”

“I was waiting for Jet, but he’s already gone home. Well, technically, he’s gone on a date and told me not to come home if I can help it.”

Ollie stares off into the parking lot. “I want to ask you something.”

My gaze flicks up to his. “What is it?”

“A favor, of sorts. But we both win.”

“Listening.”

“Come home with me tonight. Spend some time with my parents as Clark, and then crash in my room. I’d offer you my spare room, but Ma and Dad are in there.”

“In your room?”

That’s the worst idea I’ve ever really, really, really wanted to do.

“I’ll take the floor,” Ollie says. “I just … if you don’t come back with us, Ma and Dad will probably ask questions, and you said yourself you need to not be home right now. Win-win?”

I bite the inside of my cheek. Going home with him would be stupid. Really stupid. But with his parents in the room right next to us, I doubt we’d be in the mood to maul each other. Maybe. Nothing says boner killer like the chance of parentals overhearing. And it will get me out of listening to Matt and Noah’s little brother getting plowed.

Even though I know it’s a bad idea to dangle temptation in front of both of us, I find myself saying, “Okay. I’m in.”

As soon as I agree to it and Ollie’s face lights up, I know it’s a mistake and I’m one hundred percent screwed.

No way am I going to stay off him tonight.

The sweet torture of being pretend boyfriends starts as soon as we arrive at Ollie’s surprisingly modest apartment. The open plan shows a small living room and kitchen with two bedrooms side by side opposite the front door and a bathroom-slash-laundry off the kitchen.

Taking in the hardwood floors and crown molding though, I’m certain the quaintness still costs more than my entire monthly income.

Once in the confines of his apartment and out of the public eye, Ollie turns on Mr. Boyfriend, and fuck, I love it. From the way he wraps his arm around my back to the way he offers me a bottle of water from his fridge without asking and hands it off like I’ve been here before and done this a thousand times … it paints a nice picture that we can’t have.