Summary:
The Faker Rulebook: A perfect guide to a successful fake relationship with your straight best friend.
Noah—Rook Oliveira stumbled into my life when I was eleven years old.
Being the scrawny new kid at school with a mouth full of braces, I never expected to become unlikely best friends with the most popular boy in seventh grade.
At eighteen, I gathered the courage to tell him I was gay and admitted I'd never kissed a guy. He offered to be my first. Straight or not, that kiss had burned with nearly tangible fire and tattooed the moment on my heart.
I've spent the last four years trying to forget it.
Now we're seniors in college, and I've learned why secret relationships are a bad idea.
My brother is getting married, and my cheating ex is the best man. Honestly, Rook is more upset about it than I am. He comes up with this crazy plan to be my fake boyfriend for the week of the wedding.
If we're doing this, then we need to set some rules. Between fake kisses and sharing a bed, things could get messy. Because I'm in love with my best friend—and he has no idea.
The rules are simple. I never expected Rook to be the one that started breaking them.
My brother's best friend is the biggest player on campus—both on the basketball court and between the sheets.
Not that I can blame the swarm of girls that worship Knight Jackson's size fourteen sneaker-covered feet. I've been in love with him for as long as I can remember. He's been breaking my heart for just as long.
While I'd been busy memorizing every detail about him, he'd never seen me as anything other than Pace's younger brother.
It wasn't smart to crush on a straight guy in the first place, so now that I'm in college, I'm ready to move on. The problem is I'm clueless when it comes to dating.
A brilliant idea occurs to me when I've had one too many shots of tequila. I may not know what I'm doing, but Knight does. And he owes me for the years I spent pining for him, right? Right.
So I text the heartbreaker, asking for help. I never expected him to agree.
And I definitely never expected him to offer to give me lessons on how to drive a guy crazy in bed.
The Faker Rulebook #1
One
Noah
Eleven Years Old
Being the new kid at school sucked.
The sounds of lockers clanging shut and the constant hum of chatter, broken by bursts of laughter, trailed my steps as I navigated the long, unfamiliar hallways of Blakefield Middle School.
Dodging the students hurrying to last period, I followed the scuffed floors, squinting at the metal numbers mounted on the exposed red brick trim around the doors. I had been given vague directions when I’d picked up my schedule from the office this morning, but for a school only a fifth the size of the one I'd transferred from, the layout was confusing.
As the hall emptied and classroom doors closed, I quickened my pace. The bell rang, signaling I was officially late and I groaned. After the curious stares that had followed me all morning, the last thing I needed was more attention drawn to me.
Room 202. I breathed a sigh of relief at finding my science class and pulled open the heavy door.
The teacher, a woman with graying hair and rosy cheeks, paused what she was saying and every set of eyes turned, trained on me while my face burned.
"Hello, can I help you" she asked in a bright tone that contrasted with my sullen mood.
"I'm Noah Stephens," I offered quietly while passing her my schedule.
She grabbed it and quickly scanned the page. Nodding, she handed it back. "Welcome to Blakefield, Noah. I’m Mrs. Bradshaw, and I’m happy to have you in my class." She gestured to the far side of the classroom. "Find a seat. I’ll spare you the embarrassing introduction."
Thank god.My shoulders sagged beneath the weight of my backpack. The other teachers hadn’t been as generous.
Scanning the room, I noted large white-topped tables with two seats each, set in rows instead of single desks. All but one was taken, and I was glad it appeared I wouldn't have to share with anyone. I trudged along the aisle of the last row and dropped my backpack by the third table before sliding into the squeaky plastic chair.
"We are going to pick up where we left off on Friday," Mrs. Bradshaw said before glancing at me. "Mr. Stephens, I'll send you home with the materials to catch up if you need it. Stop by my desk on the way out."
"Yes, ma'am." I kept my eyes aimed forward, ignoring the murmurs around me. Back home, or rather what used to be home, I'd had friends. But with my parents’ divorce still fresh, I couldn't muster up a smile, much less try to meet new people.
One minute it had seemed we'd been a happy family with our portraits filling large picture frames mounted on the walls. The next, my mom, brother and I were packing our things. Nothing made sense, and I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that my life had been uprooted simply because my parents had grown apart. Whatever that meant. I shoved the thoughts away.
Mrs. Bradshaw beamed before shifting her focus over my shoulder. "Mr. Oliveira, could you retrieve an extra textbook for our new student?"
"Sure." A voice deeper than any eleven-year-old I'd met answered from behind me. His chair scraped back and several seconds later a heavy book thudded against my tabletop.
My gaze flicked up to the guy, surprisingly tall for a seventh grader. His hair was the color of a starless night and cropped short. Wearing a red hoodie and jeans, he appeared relaxed as he casually tapped the hard book cover.
"Here. Page fifty-nine." He studied me with eyes a shade I hadn't seen before. A light brown with bright flecks of gold that glowed with warmth.
"Thanks…" I hesitated because I had no idea what his name was.
“Rook,” he filled in just before his lips slanted in a crooked grin. White straight teeth—minus one that slightly overlapped the other—stood out against his heavily bronzed skin.
I was still self-conscious about the new braces that were doing their best to close the wide gaps in my teeth, so I held back the impulse to smile for the first time in weeks.
He didn't move, and I suddenly realized he was stubbornly waiting for me to answer as if he had all day instead of holding up the lesson.
I cleared my throat and croaked, "Noah."
Rook chuckled. "I was beginning to think you didn't have a name other than Mr. Stephens." He tossed me another grin before he retreated to his seat.
His chair creaked in protest as he plopped back down, and I battled the urge to glance back at him. I admitted to myself that Rook had gained my interest. There was an air of confidence that hovered around him.
He was also cute, but I shook off the odd thought. Well not so odd, but I wasn't ready to consider what that meant yet.
Mrs. Bradshaw stood before the whiteboard that stretched across the front of the room. "Let's talk about eye color."
As she spoke, it quickly became clear that I had no idea what they were working on. The lesson was on genetics, and we hadn't reached that part of the curriculum at my old school.
Forty-five minutes later, I was relieved when the final bell rang.
"We have a quiz on Friday, so review the last two chapters and come prepared." She spoke over the rustling of students shuffling around, preparing to leave.
I stifled a groan at the mention of a quiz and stuffed my book in my backpack before slinging the straps over my shoulders.
As the room cleared, Mrs. Bradshaw stopped me as I passed her desk. ";Just a minute, Noah."
Crap. I'd completely forgotten she'd wanted to speak to me. Glancing at the clock, I hoped she'd keep it brief. High school let out before middle school, and my brother would be outside waiting for me.
She went over the material and walked me through what I needed to catch up. My gaze strayed to the time again.
She noticed. "I don't want to keep you too long, so if you have any questions or need more instruction, we can set up short-term tutoring."
"Thanks."; I took a step back and she nodded.
"Of course. Just let me know."
Once I thanked her again, I hurried through the school, foregoing a stop at my locker.
On my way out, I had to cross the cafeteria to reach the front entrance. Just as I cleared a glass case that took up a chunk of the wall, displaying a variety of trophies, the door to the gym swung open.
I whispered a curse that would have gotten me grounded if my mother was around as I barely stopped in time to avoid slamming into it. Oblivious to the near disaster, a guy jogged out, dressed in black and red basketball shorts with a matching sleeveless practice jersey—the colors of the Blakefield Lions.
The sound of tennis shoes squeaking across the polished floor drew my attention, and I peeked into the vast room lined with slide-out bleachers.
A musky odor lingered in the air, and my gaze quickly swept over the banners with the mascot printed on them that hung from the walls and then down to the gathered basketball team at center court.
My gaze froze on the player standing a head taller than the others, giving me his profile. Rook laughed, and even from where I stood, the husky sound reached my ears. He had an easy, relaxed posture, a basketball hugged between his arm and hip. He lazily shoved a guy away before another round of laughter echoed off the walls.
"Stop standing around and line up!" A loud voice boomed. My history teacher, who clearly held two positions, stepped out onto the court, appearing even more comfortable in athletic gear than he did while lecturing on World History.
The interruption shook me from my curiosity, and I sprinted toward the exit. The chilly December wind slapped my cheeks the second I burst through the doors and scanned the parking lot. Trevor's old gray Explorer idled next to the curb, and he shot me an annoyed look when I popped open the door.
"Sorry. My teacher had to talk to me." I tossed my bag into the backseat and hopped onto the worn cloth seat. My nose wrinkled at the stale scent of fast food coming from the crumpled bags that littered the floorboard as I kicked them away.
"Already in trouble?" he asked and I scoffed.
"Yep, that's me. The rebel." Not even close. I was a rule follower by nature, and the idea of stirring up trouble was like a bitter pill on my tongue. I shut the stiff door and latched my seat belt.
My brother didn't need to know about my other distraction.
Rook. My thoughts, preoccupied by him, were confusing.
Trevor shook his head full of dark strands—a complete contrast to my golden ones—and glanced at me with eyes a darker shade of blue than mine. "I can't wait until you get your own driver’s license."
"Somewhere else to be?" I asked as he pulled away from the school.
He shrugged. "Some guys invited me to come hang out."
I should have known his first day of school would have gone much better than mine. A small tendril of envy wound in my gut. Trevor had been popular back home too, and being five years older than me, we didn’t have a lot in common. "I can ride the bus from now on."
He snorted. Mom would kill me, and you know it.
Trevor was probably right, but my life had become a pile of rubble. The last thing I needed was to feel like an inconvenience.
My brother had also had the rug ripped from beneath him, I reminded myself. He was likely dealing with things in his own way, so I shouldn't take it personally.
It was hard though. I stared out the window, watching as the neighborhoods of my new town zipped by. I needed someone around who made me feel normal again.
The Hater Playbook #2
One
Owen
The sun blazed down from the cloudless sky on my tanned shoulders as I dunked the oversized sponge back into the blue bucket filled to the brim with soapy water. Sweat rolled down my forehead, stinging my dark brown eyes, and I blinked them repeatedly for relief. Summers in Texas were awful.
"It's hotter than Satan's asshole," Vaughn, my best friend, mumbled from beside me as he absently ran a sponge over a custom wheel of the SUV we'd been washing for the last ten minutes. His voice rose several octaves as he mimicked Coach Turner, the girls’ high school basketball coach. "We should do a carwash to raise money to support the athletic department! Everyone in town will be there!"
She hadn't been wrong, and the two of us were joined by twelve other kids, ranging from ten to eighteen years old, struggling to keep up with the flow of traffic. The buzz of conversation and laughter filled the parking lot of the old dry cleaners that we’d converted into a makeshift car wash with multiple lanes. It was an organized mess at best.
I rolled my eyes, glancing at Vaughn, who was scowling with his forest green eyes narrowed at the long line of cars parked along the curb of Main Street as they waited their turn. Shaking my head, I rose to my feet to reach the windows better. "Well, we'll never get them all done if you're just going to complain every five minutes."
Vaughn sighed and reluctantly rose to his feet as well, swiping wide circles with suds along the dusty white paint. "I just don't understand why we couldn't just have our moms bake shit we can sell instead of sweating our asses off. My new video game finished downloading this morning. Fucking finally. But can I play it? Hell no. Fundraising now includes child labor, apparently. And we don't even get paid."
"You cuss more than any other fifteen-year-old I know," I mumbled as I inspected the glass for any missed spots. "Besides, I think we did the world a favor by not trying to sell anything my mom bakes."
A sudden wet splat hit me square in the cheek, and I jerked my head to the side, glaring at Vaughn as I gathered the glob of soap on my finger and flung it down on the cracked concrete. "You dick. What was that for?"
"I like your mom's food. And I'm telling her you said that." His threat fell on deaf ears.
"You're not going to tell her because you have some gross crush on my mom. You wouldn't want to hurt her feelings." I grimaced because I'd been forced to listen to his lovesick rambling about her for as long as I could remember.
Vaughn wiggled his vibrant red-colored eyebrows as he shot me a wide, gap-toothed grin and tapped one finger on his scrawny, pale, freckled arm. "You just wait, O. One day, I'm going to get braces and big ass muscles. She's going to fall in love with me, and I'm going to be your stepdad. You're going to have to call me dadd—"
I threw the sponge, smacking him dead center in the mouth. Vaughn's eyes shot wide as he pulled it away and started rubbing at the soap left behind, spitting to get rid of the taste. "I hate you, Owen Walsh."
"Don't talk about my mom then." I held out my hand, and he slapped the soaked sponge back on my palm.
"Jeeeeez. Fine." Vaughn scowled as he swiped at the messy red curls that clung to the sweat at his temples. "You know you're pissier today than usual. And that's saying something."
My eyebrows shot high. "I'm pissy? You're the one moaning on and on about—"
"Yo, Pace!" The deep voice that yelled out to my brother was one I'd heard my whole life. One I'd loved almost as long. I froze, and my gaze jerked over to Knight, my older brother's best friend, who was sliding out of the fancy red sports car his rich parents had bought him a month ago when he'd turned eighteen. He'd parked next to the rest of the workers' vehicles and strolled across the lot toward my brother and the rest of his jock friends.
I tracked his movements, silently worshipping his chestnut-colored hair that stuck out from his backward ball cap and hung down to his slate-colored eyes. Knight, with his pale athletic body, was easily over six feet tall—and still growing. He towered over everyone at the fundraiser. Every muscle, toned from years of playing basketball, was displayed by his red sleeveless tank, which was a shade brighter than his lips, and black mesh shorts.
Was I drooling? Just in case, I discreetly swiped at the corner of my mouth.
"I'm surprised Knight showed up," Vaughn said as he followed my line of sight. "Shouldn't he be with Abby, Kenzie, or the dozens of other girls he taps regularly?"
I ripped my gaze away from Knight, scowling at Vaughn. "Seriously?"
He rolled his eyes. "It's true. At some point, you gotta let that go. Knight is straight and too old for you. You're just making yourself miserable."
He had a point about Knight drowning in girls, but Vaughn had worked out my not-so-secret crush on my brother's best friend years ago when I confided in him that I was probably gay. In turn, Vaughn had shared that he was decidedly bisexual.
"He's too old for me? But you're going to marry my mom?"
"You are missing the point, Owen." He huffed.
I wasn't. I also knew Vaughn was right, but it wasn't like I'd given my heart permission to fall in love with Knight. Or constantly picture his blood-red lips on mine. It just happened when he spent the night with Pace most weekends. I mentally shook off the thoughts as best as possible and forced myself not to look again at Knight when I heard his raspy laugh over the spray of water coming from the car on the other side of the SUV. "What time is it?" I asked to distract myself.
Vaughn's gaze flicked to the sun as he shielded his eyes with his hand. "Probably around two."
I stared at him. "Since when can you tell time by the sun?"
"Since forever, Owen." He frowned as if I was dense, which was a semi-understandable response coming from my near-genius best friend. "Anyway, wanna come hang out when this torture ends? We can play that new game."
Coach Turner cut into our conversation, startling me with her sudden appearance. "Owen and Vaughn, are you boys just about done with this one? We have a line piling up here."
"Almost done," I replied with a forced smile.
She clapped her hands once. "Excellent! We are doing so well!"
When she turned to walk away, I glanced at Vaughn and rolled my eyes. "Come on, let's get this one done. The sooner we get this finished, the sooner you can stop crying and we can leave."
Vaughn nodded and grabbed the bucket before moving around to the opposite side to finish the job while I snagged the water hose. As I rinsed the suds away, I couldn't stop myself from glancing at Knight, who was holding a water hose over the roof of a sedan, spraying it down. He was now sandwiched between Pace and some girl from high school. My brother had his head tipped back, laughing at something Knight said, while the girl stared at my crush with big dopey eyes.
"I think you've sufficiently rinsed that spot about a hundred times," Vaughn said with amusement, snagging my attention.
When I looked at him, I shrugged, hoping to mask my disappointment that the girl had a shot with Knight and I didn't. Even if Knight had been into guys, I couldn’t see him drooling over a skinny kid like me that barely stood at five-eight. "Sorry, I just got sidetracked."
Vaughn scoffed. "If by sidetracked you mean staring at Knight, then yeah, I'd say you were."
"I don't even know why I like him," I admitted, frustrated with myself. "He only thinks of me as Pace's little brother."
"And he's straight and too old for you," he reminded me helpfully.
"So why am I still hung up on him?" I asked as I moved around to his side to hose off the soap dripping onto the pavement.
While I finished my task, Vaughn dried his hands on a towel hanging from his cargo shorts. "I think maybe most of us just want what we can't have."
When I glanced at him, he was circling the car as if searching for a spot of dirt we'd missed. Vaughn was probably right, but it didn't change anything. "Maybe."
"So, you didn't answer me." He followed me as I continued to rinse down the SUV. "My place afterward? Games and popcorn. You can stay the night too."
Immersing myself in the world of virtual reality would help me stop thinking about real life, so I nodded. "Sounds good. When my mom picks us up, we can swing by my place and grab my bag. I don't think she'll care if I come over."
"Sweet." He grinned. "Prepare to get your face stomped."
"You wish." I chuckled, but I was looking forward to some hard-core gaming.
Vaughn cocked one brow before turning slowly. I watched him carefully, and he darted to the side, grabbing the hose and pointing it at me. "Say I'm the master of the video game world or get soaked, Walsh."
I glared. "You wouldn't."
He grinned, an evil tilt of his lips. "Oh, I totally would, and you know—"
"Owen." We both stilled at the gravelly sound of that voice.
Vaughn's eyes widened as he stared up over my shoulder. "Heya, Knight. What's up?"
I swallowed hard, refusing to turn around. Or more like my body was frozen in place.
"S'up," Knight answered Vaughn before tapping on my shoulder. "Hey, Pace asked me to give you guys a ride when we close up. He's splitting early because your mom called. She has car trouble and needs help getting it to a shop. Since your dad is out of town, you two are stuck with me."
I swallowed again, audibly. "Like…a ride in your car?"
He chuckled, and my brain short-circuited at the sound. "Would my back be better? Want a piggyback ride home?"
Vaughn cackled, and I glared. But honestly, wrapping my legs around Knight, plastered against his back, didn't sound like the worst idea.
When I reluctantly turned to face him, my gaze collided with his steely eyes that were at odds with the boyish dimpled grin he shot down at me. His eyes crinkled at the sides, amusement glimmering in them. "Your call. My car or my back."
My cheeks lit up with heat that I was sure showed, even through my bronzed skin. I croaked, "Your car works."
Another laugh rumbled up his throat, humor flickering in his eyes. "Come find me when you wrap up then."
"Yeah." I cleared my throat. "I mean, okay. You got it."
I really wanted to slap myself for rambling but figured it would only make the situation worse.
Knight's brow furrowed. "You good, Mini Walsh?"
Mini Walsh.Well, the use of the nickname he'd called me from my first memory of him was one way to break through the idiocy clouding my brain. My brother and I looked alike in some ways, with beige-blond hair and dark brown eyes, so that was fair. But I was shorter and much slimmer than Pace. I was also my own person, dammit.
I scowled. "I have a name, you know."
Knight reached down, and I grimaced when he ruffled my sweaty hair with his mammoth hand. At least he didn't seem disgusted by the state of my strands, probably because he was used to it from playing ball. "Of course you do. You should have said it bothered you, Owen." He dropped his hand, and I hid my disappointment. Or at least I hoped I did. "I'll be waiting for you. Just find me when you're ready."
He shot me one last dimpled smile that made my knees wobble a bit before he turned and strode away back toward his friends.
"Breathe," Vaughn whispered. "You look seconds from passing out."
I shot him a glare. "Don't even start. But… Do you think he knows?"
"That you're into him?" Vaughn arched a brow. "If he didn't before, he does now. Pretty sure those pretty brown eyes of yours formed heart shapes."
I felt the color drain from my cheeks, embarrassment and dread flooding through me. "Just go tell Coach Turner we're done so we can start the next car."
Vaughn snorted. "Fine. Just get your shit together, okay?"
I couldn't make any promises, but I nodded anyway. "I'm cool, I swear."
He didn't appear to believe me, rolling his eyes. "Be right back."
I grabbed the bucket to rinse it out and refill with fresh water, determined to ignore Knight for the rest of the day. And failing miserably.
* * *
The smellof new leather and sweaty gym socks mingled together in the small confines of Knight's car. But I barely registered the scent or the vibration from the motor whipping through my body. I was more concerned with the hammering of my heart attempting to beat out of my chest or passing out, my lungs screaming for oxygen with each shallow breath I managed.
To be fair, Knight had casually dropped one arm onto the console, forcing his wide shoulders to brush mine each time he whipped around a turn. Not to mention how the raspy timbre of his voice affected me as he made small talk.
"So, you're off to college next month, right?" Vaughn asked from the cramped backseat.
"Less than a month," I interjected.
Soon Knight wouldn't be at my house several days a week. I was both grateful and disappointed by the thought. Maybe with him hours away, I could finally stop stupidly daydreaming about a future of us together.
Knight craned his neck, shooting me what appeared to be a confused look. "Pace didn't tell you?"
My eyebrows scrunched together. "Didn't tell me what?"
"That I changed schools." He gave me a baffled look, and I quietly cursed my brother as unease gripped my gut.
"He didn't tell me anything."
Knight shook his head before shrugging one shoulder. "Well, anyway, I decided to stay here and attend Harksford."
"Why?" Both Vaughn and I asked at the same time.
Knight barked a laugh. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you both wanted me gone."
What did he mean Ifhe didn't know any better? It was probably best not to ask. Instead, I opted for a safer route as I lifted one shoulder. "No, I'm just surprised you're turning down a top athletic program."
"Harksford is pretty well known for their program, and I like it here," he said simply. "And I won't have to hole up in a tiny dorm."
Knight was staying. My stomach hollowed as I let the unexpected change sink into my mind. What about my plans to get over him? I mentally saw that idea smashing like shattered glass. But at least he'd be busy with college, and I wouldn't have to see him at school walking down the halls with girls anymore. One year of that had been bad enough.
"You're quiet." Knight nudged his elbow against my arm. "What's up with you, mini… I mean, Owen."
The sound of my name rolling off his tongue did stupid things to my body. Hormones really were a pain.
I choked out, "Nothing. Just a little worn out from the sun, and my arms are pretty much limp noodles."
He chuckled. "Believe me. I get it. I feel that way after practice. But it also feels amazing."
"If you say so." I did not feel amazing. More like ready to faceplant on my mattress. "I just want a nap."
"No nap," Vaughn cut in. "We are grabbing your bag and heading to my place. Remember?"
"Oh?" Knight asked, shooting a glance my way before looking back at the road. "Want me to hang around for a minute and drive you two over there?"
"No!" The word burst from my lips with more force than necessary. I laughed uneasily to cover up my nerves. "I just mean he only lives a block away. We'll walk."
"You sure?" Knight asked, and when I nodded, he shrugged and then turned up the volume of his radio.
As Knight drove, he tapped a single long finger on the steering wheel to the bass that began thumping through his speakers. With his attention off me, I finally relaxed into the tiny bucket seat. The drive to my house was less than ten minutes away, and I breathed a sigh of relief when Knight turned into the middle-class subdivision I'd called home my entire life.
The cookie-cutter homes of varying shades of brick surrounded by well-kept lawns were spaced close together, a stark contrast to the massive Mediterranean-style home on the vast land Knight called home. But he'd never acted as if the financial gap between his parents and ours existed at all. It was just another thing I loved about him. Towering oak trees lined the road, coating the street with scattered leaves that had fallen and withered beneath the brutal summer sun.
My house came into view, and I prepared to jump out of the car as he rolled to a stop along the curb. When I popped the door open, a warm hand with a strong grip wrapped around my arm.
I shot a confused look at Knight because he rarely touched me. "Yeah?"
"Give me your phone." He loosened his hold, hand falling away as he turned it palm up and wiggled his fingers. At my quizzical stare, he sighed. "I'm not going to start prank calling you, Owen. I'm just trying to give you my number in case you need a ride or something while your mom and Pace are busy."
That made sense, I supposed. I dug my phone from my shorts pocket and handed it to him, trying to hide how my hand shook. My gaze was glued to his face, sharp features relaxed as he tapped on the screen.
Once he was done, he held the phone out, and I took it, careful not to brush his fingers with mine. According to my best friend, I'd already been transparent about my feelings enough for one day, and I really needed to wrap my head around the fact that Knight wasn't leaving. I gave him a strained smile. "Thanks for the ride."
He nodded. "Any time. Seriously, just give me a call, and I'll be right there."
It was difficult not to read into meaning that wasn't there. Knight was a player, both on the court and with girls, but he was a decent guy. He was sincerely offering help if I needed it. He'd do it for anyone. I repeated the reminder over and over as I tugged the lever to draw the seat forward so Vaughn could climb out.
Before I shut the door, I offered Knight one last grin. "Okay, thanks again."
His dimples popped as he smiled back. "See ya 'round, Owen."
He kept using my name, and I knew he was making a point. One I appreciated. "Yeah. See ya."
Vaughn and I stepped back onto the sidewalk as Knight pulled away.
I didn't glance at my friend as we turned and headed for the front door. But it didn't stop him from running his mouth.
"Are you going to start a scrapbook of how your kids might look now?" Vaughn whispered. "Start planning the wedding? Do you see yourself in all white, or are we talking rainbow themed?"
"I hate you," I hissed, and he snickered.
"I'm just giving you a hard time." Vaughn stopped behind me as I fished my house key free from my pocket and unlocked the door. When we stepped inside, Vaughn sighed. "He may not be leaving, but you still gotta—"
"Move on," I finished for him as I closed the door. "I know, okay? Now can we please drop it?"
He followed me to my room and sat on the bed as I grabbed my bag and started stuffing it with a change of clothes.
The problem was that I wasn't sure if I was just lying to myself. For as long as I could remember, I'd been in love with Knight Jackson. Meanwhile, as far as he was concerned, I'd always just be Pace's little brother.
Baylin writes gay romance stories full of sweetness and steam. She's best known for her Sugar Land Saints series that follows a college football team set in Texas, which she also calls home. Whether writing books or reading them, Baylin spends the majority of her time tucked into the pages of stories about men who love other men. She has two children, a spoiled cat, and a heavy addiction to caffeine.
WEBSITE / NEWSLETTER / CHIRP
TWITTER / AUDIBLE / AUDIOBOOKS
The Faker Rulebook #1
The Hater Playbook #2
Series
