Fake Boyfriend #5
Soren:
You know what’s not fun? Going on a Fiji vacation with four other couples. Especially when recently single.
What’s even worse is when a past hook-up arrives unannounced.
Not only do we have a history, but he’s ten years younger and a famous rock star. Most importantly, he’s my friend’s little brother.
Being trapped on an island with Jet Jackson is going to be sweet torture because all I want is another chance.
I just don’t think he’s going to give it to me.
Jet:
You know what’s not fun? Escaping one guy who broke my heart only to run into another.
Being on the road for three years has left me exhausted. The last thing I want is for Caleb ‘Soren’ Sorensen to try for round two.
I can’t fight my draw to him. I’ve never been able to.
I’m suddenly back to being the naïve kid who stupidly lusted after a hockey player.
All I can think is if I let Soren get close, I’ll walk away from this vacation with a double broken heart.
*Hat Trick is a full-length M/M romance with a guaranteed HEA. This is the final book in the Fake Boyfriend series and as such is not recommended to be read as a standalone. All main characters of the series feature heavily.*
Chapter One
Soren
Whoever’s idea it was to get away and recharge in Fiji is a dumbass. Oh, right. That dumbass is me.
Nothing emphasizes your loneliness quite like a beach vacation with four couples.
Laughter echoes through the night, coming from the open-air hut behind me where the rest of the guys are still having dinner.
The winter wind is cool and smells like salt water, but I still don’t need a jacket. The water I’m wading through up to my ankles isn’t even cold. Apparently, Fiji doesn’t know how to do real winters.
It’s only our first dinner since arriving here, and I had to sneak out under the excuse that I’d had too much to drink, which is true, and I needed air, which is also true. But I needed to get out of there because of the stark reminder everyone back there has their life together. I’m older than all of them, and I’m the one who’s lost.
It’s been months since Bryce and I finally called it quits for good, but it still feels a lot like failure hanging over my head.
Just like my contract negotiations. They aren’t going well either. Damon has been in talks with the team since before last season even ended. What they’ve been offering is good moneywise, but what I want is a no-trade clause. Getting that at thirty-three is like asking for a pet unicorn as part of the contract deal.
There’s a very real chance I could lose my boyfriend and my career in the same year.
I kick the water at my feet.
When Bryce took me back after I came out publicly, I thought all our problems were solved.
Turns out we had more than closet problems.
We had relationship problems.
They were even worse.
Yet, I stayed with him because I came out for him. I changed my life for him. And, apart from one sweaty night with a twinkish rock star three years ago, I’d never thought of having anyone else but him.
I knew the minute we all stepped onto our chartered flight here that I’d made a mistake in accepting Matt and Noah’s offer to come with them to Fiji. They do this trip yearly, but this time, they invited all of us to join them.
I’m not in the right headspace to be on and sociable, especially when we’re supposed to be here for a celebration.
Matt’s youngest brother, Wade, is coming to live with Matt and Noah in the fall to attend private school in Chicago. They’re calling this vacation their final play before they become guardians of a teenager, so they wanted to make it huge.
Everyone is all coupled up, and for the whole flight, they stared at each other lovingly, silently promising two weeks of sun, surf, and sex.
It’s disgusting.
And I’m disgustingly jealous.
I sink my feet into the coarse sand, and the water laps at my shins as I move deeper.
The owners of this private island, Joni and his wife, Ema, were gracious enough to rent the whole place to us, so at least while all the guys are distracted with mocking each other and arguing who are the better athletes—baseball players, football players, or hockey players—no one should interrupt my little pity party for one.
And please, like that’s an argument anyway. Hockey players, hands down. The end. No need for more discussion.
There’s one thing I should remember about this particular group of guys though. Most of them are egotistical athletes with frat-bro syndrome, but they’re also perceptive fuckers.
I sense someone’s presence and turn to find Ollie ditching his flip-flops at the edge of the water to join me.
“Go back to all the fun,” I say.
“Sorry, can’t.”
Of course, he can’t.
Out of everyone here, I’m closest to Ollie. He also plays hockey, and when he found out I’d announced my orientation at a press conference, he stepped up and came out to support me so I didn’t have to do it alone. It cemented our friendship.
“How are you doing?” he asks, holding out a bottle of water for me with his tatted-up arm.
I take a sip. I probably need it after how much I’ve had to drink in the last hour. “Fan-fucking-tastic.” Does that sound bitter? Eh. Oh well.
“Was it all the jokes about hiring you a very illegal rent boy?”
I snort. “No. It also wasn’t the Canada bashing, offers of threesomes, or… I dunno, whatever you guys moved on to after that. I tuned out after a while.”
“It’s our poor way of trying to take your mind off everything.”
Because it’s no secret my life’s a mess right now. That makes me feel a whole lot better.
“I’m thankful for it,” I say because I really am. It’s just not what I need right now. “But maybe I shouldn’t have come here.”
“Bryce wasn’t the right guy for you.” Ollie says this as if I didn’t already know that. He’s not the reason I’m upset.
“It’s not so much him. It’s hockey, it’s my uncertain future, it’s … everything. What if the team doesn’t want me anymore?”
“If New Jersey doesn’t offer you another contract, then they’re assholes, and you’ll sign with someone else.”
“That’s just it. Signing with another team is more daunting than retiring at this point.” It was an adjustment for everyone to get used to playing next to the gay guy. Ollie’s team appeared to accept him better than mine had accepted me, but what if the next team is worse?
“What’s your ultimate goal when it comes to hockey?” Ollie asks, and it’s such a loaded question that I don’t know how to answer.
“What’s yours?”
“The Cup, obviously, but that’s every player’s dream. If I get to your age—”
“You’re not that much younger, asshole.”
Ollie smirks. “As I was saying, if I get to your … level of experience—”
“Better.”
“I’d be happy with the type of career you’ve had. You’ve won a Selke Trophy.”
“I won that eight years ago.”
“And you were in the Stanley Cup final three years ago. I haven’t ever made it to a championship game.”
“There’s a major difference between us though. You still have time. I feel like mine’s running out.”
Ollie lets out a loud whistle. “That’s dark. No wonder you drank so much at dinner.”
Coconuts filled with liquor might be my downfall this trip. I sip more water. “They were good, but they were strong and sickly sweet. Now they’re sitting wrong.” I rub my stomach.
“Maybe go easy on them if your old body can’t handle it.”
I kick at the water and splash him all the way up to his shirt. I may be older but that doesn’t mean I’m more mature.
“Really? Is that how it’s gonna be?”
Before he gets a chance to retaliate, I run for the beach and away from the water so he can’t get me. My knees protest, but I tell them to shut the fuck up. Water goes everywhere, and I’m probably as wet as I would have been if I’d just let him splash me.
Ollie catches up as we hit the sand and tries to drag me back toward the water, but we’re both laughing so hard we don’t get far.
That’s when the sound of a helicopter hits our ears and makes us pause. The loud rhythmic thumping of propeller blades becomes louder, and a blinking red light in the sky gets brighter and lower to the ground.
“Paparazzi?” I ask.
“Matt and Noah say next to no one recognizes them in Fiji. It’s why they love coming here.”
We move back toward everyone else, who are now huddled by the entryway to the food hut, each of them as curious as we are.
“Then who—”
The idea of paparazzi crashes and burns when someone far worse steps out of the helicopter when it lands in the clearing close by.
I blink a few times to make sure I didn’t somehow wish him into an illusion.
He’s not supposed to be here. Matt said he couldn’t get out of his music tour.
There’s a reason I refer to Matt’s brother as the twinkish rock star, the random guy I had one night with a billion years ago. Because the reality is, he’s not some random guy, and it wasn’t some random hookup.
He’s forbidden fruit. Not only because he’s Matt Jackson’s little brother who’s ten years younger than me, but because he’s a famous rock star now.
No one knows what happened between us, and unless I want to get beaten up, I have no plans to let anyone here find out. Matt and Noah are overprotective, and the rest of the group all see Jet—sorry, Jay—as the little brother they never had.
Now, he’s here in front of me.
My heart pounds while memories of our past flash through my head.
His shaggy brown hair is unstyled, his ripped jeans are tight, and the cocky smirk that has haunted me for three years is still the same.
This vacation just became a whole lot more interesting.
As we lock eyes, I realize I’m wrong.
It’s awkward. The word I’m looking for is awkward.
Eden Finley
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.
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EMAIL: edenfinley@gmail.com
Hat Trick #5
