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Fake Boyfriend #3
Ollie
Word of advice: don’t come out to random guys in public restrooms. Even if they’re charming and adorably nerdy and offer to help.
My family believe I can’t be happy if I’m not out to the world. I have a bitter ex-boyfriend and an unstable NHL career to show for it. A fake boyfriend seems like an easy and quick solution to get my family off my back, and this guy is volunteering. I take him up on it without asking his name.
I really should’ve asked for his name.
Lennon
Word of advice: learn how to introduce yourself properly.
In my defense, I don’t recognize Ollie Strömberg right away. I cover football, not hockey.
I’m not supposed to see him again, and he’s never supposed to find out I’m a reporter.
That all changes when my editor reassigns me.
It’s a lesson I should’ve learned by now. Nothing’s changed since high school. Jocks still hate nerds. But even worse, athletes hate journalists. Especially ones who know their secret.
*Deke is a full-length MM novel with a HFN/HEA and no cliffhanger*
"You want to watch a movie or something?” Ollie asks.
“A movie?” The bedside clock reads well past midnight, and I should go back to my hotel and get some sleep. Do I move to do that though? Of course not, because I always do questionable things around Ollie, starting with offering to be his fake boyfriend for a family dinner. “What about your roommate?”
“I’m allowed to have gay friends, Lennon.” His eyes seem uncertain, as if he doesn’t quite believe himself. “Or, I dunno, tell him you’re writing another article.”
This is walking a fine line, and I get the feeling if I stay, shit’s gonna get messy.
“I could stay for a movie.” Apparently, my mouth decides to send a big fuck you to the warnings running through my head. “What’ve you got?”
He taps away on his screen and pulls up a selection.
“Should’ve pegged you for an action, no brains needed, type of guy,” I say.
“Fine then.” He taps some more and pulls up a different folder filled with titles like Donnie Darko, Sin City, and Get Out.
“Ugh. Way too far the other way,” I complain.
“Are you the Goldilocks of movies? Here, look for whatever you want.” He passes me his tablet.
I scroll through the genres in his movie file, clicking on a few things but going back to the main folder seconds later. Ollie makes impatient noises, which makes me even pickier. He’s kind of hot when he’s snarky.
When I scroll down further, a folder catches my eye labeled in capital letters: PORN. “Good to know you don’t even try to hide your stash.”
I jokingly go to click on it, but he must think I’m actually gonna do it. A large hand wraps around my wrist, his grip firm but not painful, and I laugh.
“Calm down. As interested as I am to open it, it’s kind of like Pandora’s box. There could be clown porn in there or something, and then you’re not the one who’d be scarred for life.”
“Clown porn?” he asks while practically choking.
“There’s some really weird shit out there.”
He lets go of my hand. “What I want to know is what you’ve been looking up if you landed on clown porn.”
“It started out looking at guys in drag, and it went downhill from there.”
Ollie pulls back as if contemplating that. “Drag queens, huh? Is that your thing?”
“Oh, we are so not getting into this.” And I’m so not confessing the drag thing was out of curiosity. My true fantasy is jocks. Exactly like him. Not going to tell him that either. “You won’t let me see your collection, so you get nothing from me.”
He thinks about it for a moment before turning to me. “Well, now I want you to look. I feel like I need to defend my porn choices.”
Is he seriously suggesting I watch his porn? With him … like … right there?
The smug challenge in his eye almost has me pushing the button, but the slight blush on his cheeks makes me think he’s bluffing. God, I want to know what he’s into …
No! Bad Lennon.
That would only add to the conflicting feelings I already have for Ollie.
The icon mocks us as we stare at it, and then each other, and then away. God, we’re pathetic.
I click on the folder labelled Classics just so we can get away from temptation. My entire face lights up. “Wait. You think Thor is a classic? Where are the real ones like Cool Hand Luke and The Princess Bride? This is even more disturbing than your porn choices.”
“Hey, you never saw my porn choices.”
“I’m still going with clown porn.”
Author Bio:
Eden Finley is an Amazon bestselling author who writes steamy contemporary romances that are full of snark and light-hearted fluff.
She doesn't take anything too seriously and lives to create an escape from real life for her readers. The ideas always begin with a wackadoodle premise, and she does her best to turn them into romances with heart.
She's also an Australian girl and apologises for her Australianisms that sometimes don't make sense to anyone else.
TANTOR / AUDIOBOOKS / CHIRP
EMAIL: edenfinley@gmail.com
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