Here Comes My Man (Hopelessly Bromantic Duet 2)

WELCOME TO THE CLUB

TJ

Jude says I deserve blow jobs for life. He tells me so after I recap the scene with “MM” while we wait for the concert outside The Extravagant theater. An alcove near the entrance affords us some privacy as the crowd streams into the venue.

“I mean it,” Jude says, utterly delighted with my Malcolm report. “You have earned a lifetime of BJs by calling out the ultimate jackass. How did that feel, stud?”

Giving Malcolm some real talk was fantastic, I admit. “On a scale of one to your favorite carbs? This was chocolate biscuits level.”

“Yes! I can practically taste them. And I am going to lean on this moment the next time I have to rip someone to pieces in a scene.” He points at me. “You are my motivation, TJ Hardman.”

Glad he’s enjoying it, but I’m half stoked, half sick. I hold out a trembling hand. “I’m so jittery it’s like I’ve had ten coffees.” Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I show him Rikki’s newest post on The Hollywood Scoop. “She’s never been wrong, Jude. Everything she’s reported has been right.”

He rolls his pretty blue eyes. “She was wrong about William and me.”

Oh, fuck. Right. “Shit, sorry.” I’m so caught up in what she told me about my failing adaptation I didn’t think about the incendiary pics—the reason Jude has a fake boyfriend in the first place. “About the project, I meant. But I hear you,” I say.

He sighs, setting a hand on my chest, firm and reassuring. “And I get what you’re saying. She’s often quite right. But here’s the thing. Don’t let it get to you.”

“How? How do I just ignore it?” That seems impossible when I feel this upside down over the news.

Jude’s smile is sympathetic but wise too. A man who speaks from experience. He lets go of my shirt to smooth my hair, even though it’s not messy. “You have to try. You can’t let these reporters get under your skin.”

“But I feel like such an ass for learning my Webflix deal is falling to pieces from a blogger.”

“Welcome to the club,” he says. “We have jackets.”

I groan in shared misery. “And then she said she was meeting with LGO. What if it’s about your show?” My nerves skyrocket once again.

“It’s Hollywood, TJ. It could be about anything. My show could get nixed tomorrow. Your project could get axed for good tonight. Your book might get made. Or, it might not.” He blows out a long breath. “But you’re going to be just fine. Want to know how I know?”

“I do.” Desperately.

“Because that’s how it worked out for me. And here I am a year after my Webflix deal fell apart and I survived. In fact, a few weeks after I lost my deal, I got If Found, Please Return and that turned out okay.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “More than okay.”

“Just a little bit,” he whispers, eyes twinkling with happiness. “You never know what’s around the corner. Just be open to possibilities.”

Like him and me.

Right here, right now. Like Jude Fox reassuring me as a boyfriend would do.

Thisis worth that drinks fiasco.

His faith and willingness to share are worth ten thousand drinks with Malcolm and Rikki. Fine, more like ten. I could brave ten for this moment.

“I think I owe you blow jobs for life,” I say, then press my forehead to his.

“I like the sound of that,” he whispers, and I want to savor this moment for a long time. It’s the best one in a string of great moments with him, each bringing us closer.

“Me too.” Jude holds my face, dusts a kiss across my temple, then says, “It’s a deal. Now let’s go see a fucking concert.”

Jude takes my hand, and we head to the main doors, stopping briefly at the red carpet to smile for photos. Then we go inside, sitting in the second row, near Luke and across from Christian.

And next to my good buddy Jason. I smack the quarterback on the arm affectionately. “Jaybird, I want you to meet someone.”

“Finally,” my friend says, then lifts a big hand in a friendly wave at Jude. “Hey there.”

I turn to Jude, smiling uncontrollably. “Jason, this is my guy. Jude Fox,” I say, proudly. Not because I nabbed a movie star. But because somehow, I found this person who knows exactly what I need.

Jude stretches a hand across me to shake Jason’s. “So great to finally meet you, Jason,” he says. “I hear you play a mean pinball, so maybe we can all do that someday.”

I’m a bottle of champagne, uncorked. In the store yesterday, I imagined this future with him. Pinball, laundry, and friends. Being part of his world. Letting him into mine. Us fitting together, as we do right now.

Jason seems stoked to have found a fellow arcade lover. “You play?”

“Just a little bit,” Jude says innocently.

I snort at the blatant lie. “He sneak-attacked me the first time we played. Do not let that British understatement fool you, Jaybird. He’s vicious. Completely savage on the flippers.”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m rubbish at it,” Jude says drily.

“Duly noted,” Jason says.

I love the camaraderie, but I can’t live here—time to level up. The pre-concert music and the hubbub of the crowd give me a buffer as I lean in closer to Jason and speak in a low voice. “I wanted you to know the real deal. This started as a fake romance. Our agents asked us to pretend to date and stuff for a bunch of reasons.”

Jason’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline, and his eyes twinkle with delight. “This sounds like one of your books.”

Jude smiles as if he’s glad we’re all in on the secret. “Doesn’t it?”

“But it . . .” I pause to glance at Jude, then take his hand and thread our fingers tightly together as I open the secret to my friend. “It became real. Very, very real.”

Holy shit. I thought that would be hard . . . but all of that was remarkably easy to say.

Maybe it’s simpler to be honest with the people you care about. Once it’s done, you don’t have to worry as much. I feel lighter than I’ve been in a long time. My head was stuffed full of my own secrets. It’s good to set some free.

Jason checks out our linked hands. “Looks very, very real to me.”

“It is,” I say.

“It absolutely is,” Jude seconds.

I settle back in the chair and enjoy the hell out of Stone Zenith’s show. The charismatic star rolls through some killer love songs, and when the show nears its natural end, the electrifying rocker tells us he has a special guest for us.

Then he announces that Lettuce Pray is in the house, and William Halifax takes the stage.