Emerett Has Never Been in Love (Love Austen 1)

“Philip says you and he are volunteering together?” Josh’s sudden reappearance was disorienting.

“Um, yeah.”

“He’ll be happy to see you. He’s around here somewhere.” Josh scoped the lawn. “Excuse me, Cameron’s waving me over . . . enjoy yourselves.”

Josh hiked off.

“I thought you’d be happy Philip’s here?”

Lake shoved his hands into his pockets. “Sure I am. It’s a shame Harry’s sick. Philip seemed devastated when I told him.”

“Was that devastated?”

Lake playfully shoved Knight toward the table. “Let’s get drinks.”

Knight rocked back with it, laughing. “I’m feeling quite good without the alcohol.”

Lake, too. The lighthearted familiar cheek was comforting. His fingers splayed over Knight’s T-shirt, and the open shirt fell softly over his knuckles. Knight’s gaze twinkled, and woozy butterflies flapped around in Lake’s stomach.

“Oh look, Philip’s finished in the greenhouse. Perhaps I need a drink after all.”

Knight pivoted to the buffet of beverages; Lake desperately dashed for a large lemon bush.

He peered through the leaves at Philip jouncing down the glasshouse steps.

Knight pivoted toward the space Lake had been and halted, perplexed.

In five eager strides, Philip joined him. “Do you know where Lake is?”

“I wish I could say I do.”

“Oh, right. If you see him, point him my way or tell him to text me.”

Philip strode off, circling around the other pockets of people, neck stretched, searching for Lake.

A shadow fell over his side and Lake pulled back from the bushes.

Knight planted his hands on his hips. Lake gulped and plucked a lemon. “I wanted a little zest in my drink.”

Knight’s eyes narrowed. “Philip is looking for you.”

“Oh, is he?”

Knight cast him a good try look, and Lake didn’t like the implications.

Cavalierly, he threw the lemon and caught it again. “He probably wants to know if he should surprise Harry with a visit.”

“Is that right?”

“But poor Harry will be asleep.”

“You should tell Philip then.”

Lake swallowed. “But he’ll be gutted . . .”

“Is there another reason you don’t want to talk to him?”

Lake forced a laugh of denial. “I’m looking forward to talking to him. We’ll spend the evening talking about his heart-eyes for Harry.”

Knight folded his arms. “Go on then.”

Wise guy. Bastard.

Gripping his lemon, he reluctantly chased after Philip.

“Philip.” He tapped Philip on the shoulder, but he was already whirling around.

“I was looking for you!”

Lake smiled weakly. “Yay, me too. Why didn’t you tell me you knew a guy who lived on this street?”

Philip laughed cheerily. “It did surprise you then. Excellent. I mean, I mentioned knowing someone on this street, but it worked well that you didn’t put two and two together.”

“You mentioned knowing someone?”

“The first time I came over.”

Lake rubbed his thumb over the lemon. “Huh. I don’t remember.”

Philip looked disappointed. “You might have been giggling at something Taylor sent you.”

“Oh. Right. I should pay better attention.”

That put the grin back on Philip’s face. “You’re forgiven. In this case it worked out. The idea came when Harry let on you love grand gestures. I thought the surprise would be fun.”

“Fun. Hmm,”—a nervous laugh tittered out of Lake—“definitely surprised me.”

Philip beamed, gesturing a few feet to their side. “The loveseat is free, shall we—”

“I don’t have a drink!” Lake blurted. Philip startled, and Lake felt ridiculous. “I mean, you sit. I’ll grab us some.”

“Or I could get them?”

Lake took him by the arm as platonically as he could, and steered him to the seat. “Hold this.” He slapped the lemon into Philip’s hand.

Philip’s face brightened tenfold. “You’re giving me your lemon?”

“Have at it. Suck it dry.”

Philip giggled with a waggle of his brows. “I like being told what to do.”

Lake whirled away, stomach churning like it might eat him from the inside out.

Philip was tipsy; his sense of humor had degraded a bit. If Harry were here, he’d be throwing one-liners at him.

Lake found Knight at the drinks station, engaged in conversation with Josh’s parents. It was strange thinking Knight had raised kids at the same time on the same street, undergoing the same parental woes. Knight looked nothing like Josh’s parents, although having your kid in your senior year of high school definitely made one younger than most other parents.

Knight’s senior-year girlfriend had wanted to adopt out, and Knight—against the wishes of his family—kept Taylor himself. The night Taylor had told him that story, Lake had lain in Taylor’s bed, aware that the dry-witted, decidedly funny hero who’d strapped Taylor to his chest while he made pizza deliveries, done his business degree long distance, and clawed together a life for himself and his boy was sleeping a few rooms down. Lake remembered asking Taylor when his dad learned he was bisexual. Taylor had scoffed. Said it was a miracle he was born, because his dad had never noticed another woman since.

“Hello to Lake?” A hand waved in front of his face. Sweet-dimpled Cameron was actually wearing jeans that fit tonight.