Fake Out

Honestly? I’m waiting for the memory of you kissing me to go away so I’m not tempted to do it again.

Damon Isaac King … wait, your initials are—” I grit my teeth. “I know. You don’t think Stacy has made that joke to our parents ever since I came out? ‘No wonder he likes dick when his initials are DIK.

I finally get it. I don’t give a shit about labels, because I don’t need to. All I need to care about is making this guy mine.

To anyone who has discovered they aren’t as straight as they thought they were, and to the people who made them realize it.

You’d think they’d come up with a better headline. How did they miss a pun about being a gay tight end?” “At least he isn’t a wide receiver.

Lies. Sarcasm is great. You can say anything and pretend you're joking. People think I'm hilarious when in reality I'm just an asshole

What, you want me to throw you a pride parade for figuring out you like dudes? I don’t give a shit who you fuck, so long as it’s not me.

I try not to laugh. “Sarcasm isn’t good for you, you know.” “Lies. Sarcasm is great. You can say anything and pretend you’re joking. People think I’m hilarious when in reality I’m just an asshole.

Maddy.” My hand goes over his head, pushing the door closed so he can’t escape, and he turns to face me. This close, we share the same breath, and we’re both breathing hard. His eyes are either hooded or narrowed; I can’t tell if he’s angry or turned on, but I don’t give him a chance to let me know which, because I move in and fuse my mouth to his. He accepts it willingly—eagerly.

I always used to think relationships meant compromising what you want for something somebody else wants, but I never realized that when you meet that one person who becomes your priority it’s not compromising because you’d willingly do anything to make them happy

Resisting him has made the buildup to this more explosive. His tongue, his lips, his mouth seeking mine, it’s as natural and inevitable as magnets finding each other. I tried to be strong, I tried to hold back, but I know now it would’ve been impossible to keep up forever. His back hits the door. Our tongues tangle, and there’s no hesitance on his part. He dives in fully, and he tastes the same as I remember but better.

True. I love you, Maddy.” No matter how many times he says it, I can’t hear it enough. It doesn’t freak me out, and the idea of being with him forever doesn’t make me antsy. I crave him, more than I’ve ever craved anyone or anything in my life. I always used to think relationships meant compromising what you want for something somebody else wants, but I never realized that when you meet that one person who becomes your priority it’s not compromising because you’d willingly do anything to make them happy. Just like I know Damon would do the same for me. I kiss him again. “You remember when we first met and I told you I felt like I don’t belong?” Damon nods. “I found it—where I’m supposed to be. It’s with you.

When his lips find mine, they’re soft and tentative, so I force my tongue into his mouth to harden the kiss, but he groans and pulls away.

I lean in and kiss him softly. His mouth moves lazily against mine, and I have to force myself to pull away.

His moans are intoxicating, and I’m lost in everything Maddox.

My eyes narrow. "But?" "No but. You're my best friend." Tears pool in her eyes. "Are you dying?" She shoves me. "I can't be serious every once in a while?" "No. "Whatever, I hate you again." "There's my Stacey

Maddox has a way of making me smile without even realizing I'm doing it, and I could definitely see myself coming home to him in the future.

I'm on it" "Really?" "I'd love to say I'm doing this because I'm your friend, but honestly? The tought of you having to pretend to be gay for forty-eight hours entertains me immensely.

Fuck, he’s good-looking when he smiles. So much so, I’m wondering if my family will call bullshit on our little act. Clearly, if I was with Damon for real, I’d be punching above my weight.

Maddox’s blue eyes meet mine. With his square jaw, blondish hair, and young Brad Pitt resemblance, this weekend just became a whole lot more awkward. Of course, the straight guy is gorgeous, because the universe likes to watch me suffer.

Screw social media; it’s got nothing on small towns.

It’s only Bermuda, but hey, it’s not Canada.” “That should be a tourism slogan. It’d work for anywhere. ‘Come to West Shittyville, Ohio. There’s nothin’ to do, but at least it ain’t Canada.

I’m planning to jump in headfirst with my eyes closed and hope for the best. I’m acting instead of wishing for more, and I want you to do it with me.” I swallow hard and force myself to say the words I’ve been too scared to admit. “Because I love you.

I rush over to him and practically knock him down as I kiss him hard. He stumbles back, but his hands go to my waist, and his mouth takes everything I give. I try to express everything I feel for him, everything I want to say, because I’m not sure if I can admit it aloud yet. I love him. This is true, but the thought of saying it out loud makes the walls close in—just like they’ve always done. Only difference is, this time, when I remind myself that it’s Damon, all that doubt, the claustrophobia, the itchy feeling of wanting to escape disappears completely. If I focus on the Damon part and not words like love and forever, I don’t freak out. I want it. Everything.

I lean in and kiss his cheek. “I might keep you. You’re good for my ego.

You’re home.” A grin lights up his face.

Damon: Fun fact. Walking into an empty apartment and yelling SURPRISE when no one’s home isn’t as fun as you’d think it would be. Where are you? Now there’s a visual.

Damon smiles against my mouth. “I love when you don’t make sense.

Boyfriend, huh?” Maddox asks me. “Unless the label freaks you out. I know you’re not a fan of those.” “I like the boyfriend label.” He kisses me again.

I run my nose down his neck and chest, peppering soft, open kisses as I go.