Fake Out (Fake Boyfriend 1)

The smell of coffee wafts up the stairs when I make my way down to find Maddox. I watch him move about the kitchen, cooking bacon and eggs and moving from the stove to the coffee pot and back again with ease. Typical country boy—he knows how to cook. And damn, that’s hot too.

Stop it.

“Morning,” I say, my voice gruff.

He startles. “Shit. Didn’t hear you come down.” He continues to rush around the kitchen and never once makes eye contact. Maddox slides a cup of coffee in front of me before he’s on the move again, grabbing plates and popping bread in the toaster.

“Thanks,” I say and lift the coffee to my mouth. “Where are your folks?”

“Grocery shopping. They wanted us to go out for breakfast, but I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You should’ve. Isn’t it part of my job to spend time with your family?”

“Nah, you’ll spend more than enough time with them this weekend.”

Still no eye contact. Not even when he places a plate with hash browns, bacon, and eggs in front of me. Poached.

“Thought you were a sunny-side-up type of guy?” I ask.

“Anything for my boyfriend.” Even though his voice is light, it sounds forced.

“This is really good,” I say with a mouthful of food.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

Why do I get the feeling I’ve done something wrong?

CHAPTER FIVE

MADDOX

Attraction is a weird beast.

Once Damon loosened up over drinks last night, I began to think we could’ve come out of this weekend as friends. He’s intense but still a decent guy.

For some reason, my subconscious held onto that when I went to sleep and decided to show me exactly how decent—or indecent—he could be. While naked. And begging me to fuck him.

The dream came out of nowhere, but it dredged up shit from college which I thought was long forgotten. Experimenting—that was all it was freshman year. It wasn’t like I’d found another guy attractive since then.

Then why are you dreaming of fucking your fake boyfriend?

My dick jumps at the thought.

No. Down, buddy. Not going to happen.

It was only a dream. I once dreamed I was the spider from Harry Potter. Doesn’t mean I want to fuck a spider.

But you weren’t fucking other spiders in that dream.

It was all the alcohol last night. Let’s go with that.

The dream is one thing, but when I woke next to him, it seemed so real, I was harder than I’d ever been, and it wasn’t morning wood. I was horny. For Damon.

Shit.

So, yeah, I may be freaking out a little. Or a lot.

“Ready to head out?” I ask as I finish eating. “I haven’t bought a wedding gift yet.”

Damon downs the rest of his coffee, and I’m mesmerized by his throat as he swallows. I begin to imagine how he’d—

Stop it.

“Ready,” he says and stands. “Should we do the dishes?”

“Nah, that’s what Mom is for.”

“Is that so?” Mom’s voice comes from behind us as she trudges in the kitchen door, carrying tote bags full of groceries.

“We can’t be late.” I feign innocence.

Mom smiles. “Go on, get out of here then.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I kiss the top of her head.

The awkwardness I’m unwittingly exuding doesn’t dissipate as we make our way to the car. I think Damon’s picking up on it now too, but if he is, he doesn’t acknowledge it aloud.

“You have great parents,” he says.

“I know.”

“They probably won’t care if you told them the truth.”

“They won’t care that I lied to them for years?” I ask incredulously. “Yeah, okay. They’re great but not that great.”

“The longer you leave it, the worse it’ll be. What happens when you find a girl you want to settle down with?”

Pfft, like that’s ever going to happen. “I don’t plan on doing that.”

“You’re twenty-three and already resigned yourself to being alone forever?”

“I’m not a relationship type of guy. I learned that after Chastity.”

“Because you couldn’t break up with her?”

“Because I don’t like hurting people. Call me a wimp, call me a pussy, call me whatever you want, but I’d rather not deal with drama. I’m the type of guy who would stay in a relationship for two years too long to avoid confrontation.”

“Whoa. It all makes sense now. You think by telling your parents you’re straight, it’ll hurt them because they’ve believed the opposite for so long.” Damon laughs.

“Laugh it up.”

“Sorry,” he says, still laughing, “but do you realize how absurd your situation is? Most gay people are scared shitless to come out of the closet. You’re scared for your parents to find out that you’re straight.”

My molars mash together as I grit my teeth.

Out of the corner of my eye, Damon’s smile falters as he studies me. “Are we okay? You seem—”

“We’re cool,” I lie. “I’m just distracted with Chastity getting married today. And we’re here.” The car’s barely in park before I jump out.

Damon slowly gets out of the car, puts his hands in his pockets, and hangs his head.