“Mary?”
“Or you.” Kind and capable, right there. The perfect presence to help Jason relax. He’d be able to handle anything. Everything. “I’d love to sleep with you.”
Owen looked up sharply. “You can have Mary.”
They drank tea until Steve knocked on the door and he and Owen—who’d changed into sweats—headed over to Carl’s to deal with the cold-blooded intruder.
When Owen came back an hour later, Jason was still on the couch, scrolling through Grindr with Mary curled at his side. He’d widened his search to include three bigger towns nearby, desperate to find a profile that didn’t freak him out.
“Done,” Owen said. “What are you frowning at?”
Jason smacked his lips on the taste of honey and waved his phone. “Grindr.”
Owen tripped over the edge of the rug and caught himself on the coffee table. He peered at Jason’s screen. “Why?”
“I don’t know what half these acronyms mean.”
“I meant why are you on Grindr?” Owen perched on the arm of an adjacent chair, something very cop-like in the way he folded his arms and studied Jason.
Jason straightened under the scrutiny, a tiny little electrical frisson in his gut, like . . . like he’d been caught in a lewd act. “It isn’t obvious? I need a fake boyfriend.”
“That’s where you’re looking for a fake boyfriend?”
“Do you have any better ideas?”
Owen stared at him, lips parting—maybe to reply—but no words escaped. Then he frowned and cast his gaze away. “I . . . hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Not in the slightest. I just downloaded the app tonight and it’s all very much.”
“You just downloaded . . .” like he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly.
“I hate this.” Jason sighed. “Here’s a genius idea. Maybe you could help?”
Owen shook his head, laughing gruffly, then scrubbing his jaw. “Now you ask?”
“I might’ve asked earlier if you hadn’t marched me back to Carl’s.”
“I marched you over there because I expected this to be the first question out of your mouth this evening.”
“You expected me to ask for help finding a fake boyfriend on Grindr?”
Owen’s eyes doubled back to his and his hand stilled over his lips and chin. Then he groaned, and groaned again as he stood and marched out of the living room. “Guest bed is the room next to mine. Good night, Jason.”
“Wait, where are you going?”
“To vent my frustrations.”
“That sounds . . . like something I might read on Grindr.”
A door shut solidly.
Jason took Mary with him to the guest bedroom and snuggled into the bed, propped against the headboard with pillows, the light from his screen beaming towards his face. Left swipe. Left swipe. Left swipe.
A notification.
Jason clicked. The profile pic was a generic closeup of two men’s hands interlocked. A guy who liked handholding. Promising.
Twenty-nine. Looking to start out as friends. Would eventually be interested in LTR (long term relationship). Safe: PrEP, regular testing. Top.
Jason couldn’t see any distance on the screen, but if he was going to brave chatting up anyone, this would be the anyone to be brave with.
He wrote, and soon there was a series of yellow and blue bubbles.
Call Me Carl: Hey, nice profile.
* * *
Daniel: Puppy on a piano?
* * *
Call Me Carl: I was meant to change that, but I had an incident with a greedy-eyed snake.
Mary’s head lifted off his lap, ears perking, and Jason paused his chat, freezing at the horrifying thought there was another slithery beast lurking nearby. Then he let out his breath and reclined against the headboard. Just Owen, shifting in his bed next door. Laughing at something.
What could he be reading that made him chuckle like that?
Jason petted Mary. If only dogs could talk.
Daniel: No worries. What are you into?
* * *
Call Me Carl: Friends, sort of? I need a fake boyfriend for a few key moments over the next few weeks?
Jason gave the tl;dr shortened version of his predicament, and somehow, fifteen minutes later found himself agreeing to meet Daniel one town over in Mulburry the following day, for dinner at Trinity. Didn’t Alex work at Trinity? Small place. No idea how he’d recognise Daniel, but he had instructions and an assurance they’d find one another.
Grinning, Jason dropped the phone to the bed and twisted onto his knees. He knocked on the wall he shared with Owen and called “I did it, Owen. I have a date! A real actual date with a guy.”
Owen made a sound like a snort, followed by a sigh. “Get some rest. Tomorrow will be interesting.”
Chapter Seven
“You know how I have a date this evening?”
“Yes, Jason. You mentioned it three times over breakfast.” Owen had been wearing a bemused expression all morning, and it only deepened when he parked outside the local café. Owen’s coffee machine had chosen that morning to malfunction, and Owen really, really needed the caffeine. He’d taken one look at Jason and said so himself.