One thing I do know is when Anton steps out of his building, I’m not prepared for seeing him in a tux.
A tailored suit, sure. I see that every other day.
But a tux? With a bow tie and his Armani jacket?
I’m hard just looking at him.
His hair is back to usual—perfectly styled and parted on the side.
He climbs into my passenger seat. “Couldn’t even come up to knock on my door like a gentleman? Why am I not surprised?”
Instead of a smartass remark about there being nothing gentlemanly about either of us, nothing passes my lips. My analytical side kicks in again, and I overthink every word in his sentence until nothing makes sense.
Was I supposed to pick him up from his door like it’s a date?
“Wow, you really hate being charitable,” Anton says. “It’s the animal shelter all over again.”
“Huh?” I pull out onto the road.
“You look tense. What’s up?”
“Nothing’s up. Other than my dick. You look hot.”
Anton releases a small smile.
“And I don’t look too bad either,” I prompt.
“You scrub up nice.”
“You mean for a fuckboy?”
Anton sighs. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, and I will deny I ever did, but … you’re not a fuckboy.”
“Oh no, are you dying? Retiring? Is the world ending? Did I miss the alien zombie invasion? Or are you trying to make us crash?”
“Yep. I take it back already.”
“You can’t. No backsies. That’s how it works with actual compliments, not the half-assed ones you throw at me sometimes.”
“You really don’t want to push me right now, Ez. I’m on the brink of making things really uncomfortable for you.”
“Uncomfortable how? You gonna reach over and tease me through my pants? Ooh, road head?” I reach for my fly, but his words stop me cold.
“You’re not a fuckboy, but you act like one because deep down you don’t want to feel the rejection your parents inflicted on you your whole life. You treat people as disposable so they can’t do it to you first.”
I grip the steering wheel tight and grit my teeth.
“I told you,” Anton says.
“That’s some grade A psychoanalyzing you did there, but you’re wrong.”
“Am I?”
“People are disposable to me because I’m literally too much of a fuckboy to care about anyone but myself.”
Anton stares at me for a moment, and I can feel the heat of his gaze on the side of my neck, but he turns away and looks out his window.
He says something, and it’s so low I miss half of it, but it sounds like “Keep telling yourself that.”
Walking into this function together is no big deal. Getting photographed while a million questions are thrown our way about our friendship is the same old shit on another night. But Anton’s words keep replaying in my head, and it’s taking all my energy to be my usual carefree self.
I manage because I have to. Not for the rich attendees who I couldn’t care less about or because the team’s management expects me to. I need to do it to prove to Anton that he can’t see through me.
Even though he can. He’s the only one who’s paid close enough attention to me to see past the smokescreen. Not even my parents care enough to put in the effort. I make it deliberately hard for people to love me, and I sabotage when they’re getting too close. It’s easier than them being disappointed by who I really am. But Anton sees. And he’s not disappointed.
Yet.
It’s only a matter of time until I screw up though. And I’m not sure how I’m going to get past when it happens because I don’t want to disappoint him. That’s a completely new experience for me.
“Drink?” I ask Anton, and he nods. “I’ll be right back.”
I’m suddenly regretting driving because despite being told not to drink by Coach, I want to drown out all the overthinking.
This is not me.
A presence and familiar cologne appears next to me, along with a deep voice. “What, I retire and you replace me with Anton Hayes?”
I turn to find my best friend, Westly Dalton, standing there, and next to him is his sexy professor boyfriend.
“You escaped prison!” I exclaim, and everyone’s heads in the immediate vicinity turn to look.
“Uh, five kids is not prison.”
“If you say so.” I don’t hesitate to throw my arms around him. “I can’t believe you’re here.” Then I shove him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“And ruin the surprise? There’s no fun in that.”
His partner, Jasper, rolls his eyes. “He didn’t tell you because up until a few hours ago, he wasn’t sure he was going to come. He still struggles to leave the kids for longer than an hour.”
I turn to West. “Can I ask you something?”
“I’m scared,” Jasper says. “He’s going to ask for a threesome, isn’t he?”
I hold my heart. “I’m touched you know me so well already. This is fate. We should get married.”