NRRR Story – Fake Boyfriend’s Choice

I’m attending the Northern Rainbow Romance Retreat event in Toronto this weekend, and as part of my salon this morning, I had some folks propose a writing prompt for me.
They came up with Blake, a 25-year-old bus driver, and Alex, an older town hall clerk, with fake dating, age gap, a beanbag chair, and a cat named Poe.

So here is that story.

 

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Fake Boyfriend’s Choice

Alex hid a yawn behind one hand as he gestured to the next person in line. His job was mostly satisfying, if a bit mundane. Permits and licenses, from fishing to temporary signs, to fundraising carnivals, to marriage. Usually hunting and fishing licenses were a quick process, but that last person? O. M. and a capital G. Yes, they had more than one category of fishing license but he hadn’t needed to hear about every poor fish she’d caught in the last ten years to help her decided if she wanted a sport license or a conservation license. Really, the only question was, do you want to eat the fish, or turn it loose alive, albeit with a hole in its lip?

Said person had expounded on her recipes as well as length in inches and weight in pounds for her trophies, so it shouldn’t have been a hard decision.

“Sorry for the wait,” Alex told the next guy. “What can I do for you?”

He was vaguely aware, as he helped fill out a permit for a temporary driveway dumpster, of the new party of nine that had jointed his line. A wedding-license crowd, if he wasn’t mistaken. Mostly looked like cis guys plus two women although one never knew. The two holding hands were both wearing full beards, so a queer wedding anyhow. Usually his favorite, but something about this crowd set his teeth on edge. He couldn’t figure out why until he realized, as they got closer and louder that A – they were all varying degrees of drunk, and B – they were teasing a young cleanshaven guy with broad shoulders who stood what seemed like a protective hunch. Young guy wasn’t giving as good as he got, just flinching and taking it.

Alex tried to tune in as he helped a church admin lady fill out the form for a fundraising lottery.

“…make sure Blake catches the bouquet,” one of the guys who was not an impending groom said with a loud laugh. “Or the garter or whatever Jason’s going to throw.”

“A garter, definitely,” one of the others in the group commented, and there was some hooting and nudging.

“Because that’s the only way Blake‘ll get a date,” the loud-laugh guy went on. “Seriously, when was the last time you went out with someone farther than the back room of a bar, Blake? 2010, was it?”

The hunched young guy, who seemed to be Blake, muttered, “I was eleven in 2010. Not even you were that precocious, Cary.”

Cary preened and said, “Speak for yourself,” then nudged Blake hard enough to rock him sideways a step. “2020 then. Dude, I don’t know what you do to turn guys off. I mean, you’re not that terrible looking. You’re no Jason but most of us aren’t.”

One of the prospective grooms raised the hand of his model-handsome partner and proclaimed, “No one beats Jason!”

“Yeah, yeah, Kyle,” another of their party called. “We know you’re not impartial or anything.”

Alex yanked his attention back to the form the church lady had finished, double checked for correctness, ran it through the system and printed her a copy. “Next.”

The next permit was another fisherman who clearly knew the drill, so Alex could let his attention drift as the guy put in his information.

“…have to admit, Blake‘s holding up the loser end of our group. Remind us again, why do we keep him around?”

A slurred voice said, “To make the rest of us look good!” and drunken cheers applauded that witticism. Alex looked up to see Blake’s face had grown more flushed and his shoulders more hunched.

Ditch the jerks, he tried to mentally send to Blake. Don’t put up with that shit. Yeah, they’re all older, and if we’re honest, better looking, but you don’t need those kinds of friends.

Except Blake was maybe twenty-three, maybe twenty-five. Young, anyhow, and Alex could vividly remember the first queer friend group he’d finally been included in around that age. He could recall some of the things he’d done to make sure they’d want to keep him around. His friends hadn’t been cruel, but they had been wild, and he was damned lucky he didn’t have a police record for some of the shit they’d pulled. At the time, it’d felt worth it.

So he understood the way Blake pretended to chuckle at his own expense, and didn’t head for the door. Alex didn’t like it, though.

As he worked his way through the next three customers, he caught more snatches of drunken teasing, sometimes aimed at the two grooms, but often harping on Blake’s apparent failure to date or score or whatever. Alex gritted his teeth.

Sure, Blake wasn’t particularly attractive. His scruffy brown hair needed a trim, his nose was wide, his chin a bit minimal, and he still wore the remnants of acne across his forehead. But he had those broad shoulders and decent arms in his T-shirt, and his mouth looked made for kissing. A bit of middle-body spread, but hell, Alex was no skinny twink either, especially after sixteen years at a sedentary job. And Alex had no trouble picking up guys whenever he wanted to take the time.

So it was a mystery why these douchebags felt like they had license to call Blake a loser. For all they knew, he could be dating on the sly. If he were Blake, he sure as hell wouldn’t tell this crowd about any actual boyfriend.

Except he overheard one guy badger Blake into promising to go out to a local bar tomorrow night, and at least try to pick up. The expression on Blake’s face when he agreed was a combination of defeat and embarrassment. Alex didn’t think he was that good of an actor. A hidden boyfriend should’ve been some kind of armor, and there was no evidence of that.

Poor guy.

The grooms stepped up to Alex’s counter. They’d filled out the license online, but needed to present IDs and sign. Alex pulled up the document and checked their IDs carefully, going super slow and pretending to be doubtful, just to give them a bit of a hard time back. That Cary guy, watching him, curled his lip and stepped close to the counter. “It‘s 2024, you know. Queer people can get married. You may hate it, but if you try to give Kyle and Jason a hard time, I will have your job. I know a very good lawyer.”

The grooms tried to hush Cary, which was smart because if Alex had been Mr. Pennington, his predecessor who retired when required to hand out “queer licenses,” that threat would have derailed the whole process. Old Pennington had done his duty grudgingly, in his last months, but taken delight in the slightest excuse not to.

Blake muttered, “Cary, cool it. Others of us may want to come back here someday.”

Cary cackled. “Like you’re ever going to get married. Don’t make me laugh. You can’t even get laid.”

Blake ducked his head, staring at his shoes.

Alex wanted to punch Cary and all the others drunkenly snickering. Instead, he said, “I’m not bothered by equal marriage.”

Cary coughed, “Bullshit,” into his hand.

Cute. Alex set the two driver’s licenses side by side on the counter. “It all looks in order. Please sign the e-sign pad in the same order as your names on the license application.” He pointed at the pad and stylus.

The first groom, who was the more tipsy, scrawled something that ran way out of the designated box. Alex briefly wondered if he should deny the license for not being of sound mind, but they’d filled out the form ahead, correctly, and there were enough obstacles to queer marriage, even for jerks like this.

Before he could comment, Blake said, “Um, Jase, you might want to try again.”

“Lay off him,” Cary snapped. “Not like you can read what he wrote. Didn’t you say you flunked cursive writing in school?”

Okay, enough. Alex said, “Blake, honey, I can yell at drunk bozos myself. But thanks for the assist.”

“Honey?” Cary stared back and forth between them. “You two know each other?”

Alex could see Blake about to say no, and the idea which had been simmering for the last five minutes burst from his mouth. “Sure do. Blake’s my boyfriend.”

“Your what?” Cary’s eyes bugged out of his drunken head. “You’re joking.”

Alex gave Blake a moment to say they were kidding, that Alex was weird or he had no clue what was going on. But instead, Blake threw Alex one look that seemed to have appeal behind the wide-eyed shock, then stared down.

So Alex said, “Yeah. Babe, didn’t you tell them? I know I’m older than you, but I’m not that much of a troll.”

“You’re not a troll!” Blake exclaimed, and it sounded wonderfully boyfriendish.

Alex grinned. “Just enjoying keeping me a secret, huh? That’s okay. My friends are more fun than yours anyway. Did you decide if you were coming out with us tonight?”

Blake sputtered, then said, “I hadn’t decided. I guess there’s a bachelor party.” He gestured at Kyle and Jason.

“So you said. Looks like you guys started celebrating early. Well, hang on, let me finish their paperwork. I’m off in eight minutes, and then I’ll come with you.”

“Would you?”

Alex decided he wasn’t mishearing the appeal in Blake’s tone. “Sure.” He finished the printout and handed the hard copy to one of the grooms. “Congratulations, gentlemen. Blake, you want to wait for me outside?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll wait, um, hon.”

Alex realized Blake didn’t know his name, so he said to Cary, “I’m Alex, by the way. You must be Cary. I’ve heard so much about you.” He let the word “much” have an emphasis that wasn’t flattering.

“And yet we heard nothing about you.” Cary glared blearily at him.

“Well, can you blame him?” But the line of customers was still there and he had three people to finish in seven minutes. He told Blake, “Wait for me, babe, and we’ll catch up with your friends afterward. Clear the line, now, folks.”

The engagement party straggled toward the doors. Alex heard a few hissed whispers aimed at Blake and hoped he hadn’t made things worse. But the look Blake threw over his shoulder as they left the building didn’t seem angry.

Alex finished up his customers, including one more who sneaked in before the door was locked. Usually he hung about and chatted with the couple of other staff folk in their small office, but today he swiftly ducked back to the break room, retrieved his jacket, combed his hair, brushed his teeth in the staff bathroom, and headed out.

He expected to just find Blake, or maybe no one. He’d given Blake an opportunity to disengage if he didn’t want to spend a drunken evening as the butt of jokes, but the guy didn’t need to actually hang around. Instead, the whole group was waiting for him on the sidewalk, having an animated but only semi-coherent discussion of what bar to go to next.

Cary turned as Alex relocked the door behind himself. “Hey, Blake, it’s your boyfriend.”

Blake looked over, then approached a few tentative steps. The others seemed to be looking on avidly.

Might as well sell it. Alex strode up to Blake, eased a hand onto Blake’s arm, going slow enough to see resistance, and rose on his toes, tilting his head in invitation.

Blake’s eyes widened, but probably only Alex could tell. Then he bent and kissed Alex, soft and closed-lips as befitted a public kiss on an open sidewalk.

The engagement party folk hooted and cheered, though, like Blake and Alex were putting on a show.

Well, why not. Alex slid a hand behind Blake’s head and kissed him one more time, not deepening it because for all he knew, the guy might be asexual or hate kissing, but taking his time with soft brushes of lips on lips, making it look good. When he pulled back and let his heels hit the ground, Blake was flushed but didn’t look unhappy.

Cary slapped Alex on the back, staggering him. “You’re coming with us, of course. You’ll have to tell us all about how you and Blake met and why he never brought you along anywhere. I’ve never even heard your name.”

Blake surprised Alex by winding clammy fingers through his and clutching his hand, but saying in a perfectly calm voice, “If you wanted to know more about what I was doing, you needed to lay off the jokes.”

Alex squeezed his hand back. Good for you.

“Aw, don’t be so sensitive—”

Cary was overridden by Jason saying, “We’re going to Black Jack’s. Come on. Google says ten minutes walk.” Jason waved a bit randomly off to his left.

“Blake and I will take my car,” Alex said. “We’ll meet you there. I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Aww,” one of the other folks said. “Isn’t that sweet?” The party began ambling off down the sidewalk.

“Yeah.” Cary made a face at Blake. “Super sweet. I guess we’ll see you two there.” He trotted a couple of steps to catch up, and could be heard exclaiming to the stragglers, “Jesus, what the hell does a hot dude like that see in our Blakey?”

Blake flinched and turned to Alex, looking miserable.

“He meant you to hear that,” Alex pointed out in a low voice. “Some of your friends suck.”

“I think all of them suck. But not all of them swallow.” Blake grinned although his eyes still looked bleak. “Well, maybe not Annie. Grace is bi but Annie’s a lesbian.”

Alex had noticed the two women on the fringes of the group. They hadn’t made any of the remarks, but hadn’t objected either.

“Seriously,” Alex said. “You sure you want to hang with them? We could go out somewhere else.” Then, recalling this wasn’t actually a date, “Or I could drop you at home, or you could get an Uber or something. If you don’t want to get in a car with a stranger, I totally get it.”

Blake drawled in a fake Southern accent, “But ah have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” Then he flushed. “Sorry, that was a movie.”

“A Streetcar Named Desire,” Alex agreed. “Marlon Brando was so fucking hot in that one.”

Blake’s whole face lit up. “Right? Do you like old movies?”

“Some of them. Give me Paul Newman or Brando or Jimmie Stewart and I’m a happy man.”

“Paul Newman is awesome.” Blake tilted his head. “Jimmie Stewart’s not classically handsome. He kinda had a nose.”

Alex wondered if Blake realized he was hovering his hand in front of his own nose. “Yeah, but it didn’t matter, right? He played these good guys, just so awesome at heart, he could’ve looked like he ran into a brick wall and I’d still want was to be right there beside him.”

“Seriously?”

“Sure. Protecting people. Taking up for the little guy, the one abused or down on their luck. I like that in a man.”

“That’s kind of what you did,” Blake noted. “And it was awesome, even if I’m embarrassed as fuck that you heard all the shit Cary came out with. But you’re hot, physically, along with the white-knighting.”

Alex ignored the little ego boost, despite being very welcome now he’d hit thirty-eight which was like a hundred in gay years, to ask, “Why do you hang out with them?”

“They’re mostly not that bad. It’s really only Cary that gets mean. When he’s not around, they’re okay.”

“But they don’t tell Cary to knock it off.”

“He knows how to be funny. And he’s pretty rich. Good chance he’ll pick up the whole bar tab for the bachelor party.”

Alex thought those were pretty bad excuses, but he kept his opinion to himself. “You still haven’t said what you want to do. Ride home, split up now, or me coming to the party with you.”

“Are you seriously offering? It’s Friday night. Don’t you have a date or something?”

“Only with my cat. And she won’t starve no matter what she thinks.”

“I really want a cat, but my roommate is allergic.” Blake hesitated. “I kind of want to go after them, if you really mean it. Just for, like, an hour, because they’ll get drunker and eventually won’t even notice if I leave. But otherwise they’ll start thinking you didn’t really exist.”

“They saw me kiss you.”

“Once, while they were drunk.”

“Twice, actually, but who’s counting?” Alex waved toward the parking lot. “Let’s head over to Black Jack’s. The sooner we start, the sooner we can ditch your friends.”

“I appreciate this. You have no idea.” Blake followed Alex toward his car.

“You let me be Jimmy Stewart for a night. I appreciate it.” Alex realized he meant that. Since he and Joel split up two years back, he hadn’t been truly important to anyone. Even just for one night, he could matter to Blake, and that was a gift.

 

***

 

Blake watched the downtown go by out the windshield of Alex’s car. He couldn’t believe he was sitting here, next to this hot-looking older guy with the kind of willowy build, blue eyes, and styled blond hair Blake often admired in clubs. That moment when Alex had called him “honey” still reverberated in his bones. He knew it was just a fake. It didn’t mean anything. But the word had burrowed down to a hollow place inside him and for an instant, made it ache less.

“We should get our story straight.” Alex drove casually, one hand on the wheel, but not too fast and using signals and all. As a professional, Blake appreciated that. “How did we meet?”

Blake tried to give his attention to the topic and not to Alex’s long-fingered hands. “At a movie? Since we both like them?”

“Sure. There was that five-dollar black-and-white fest at the Midtown a couple of months ago. Maybe we bumped into each other in the lobby. I spilled a soda down your shirt and offered to pay for the cleaning, and you were super kind and wouldn’t let me.”

“Of course I wouldn’t let you. That would’ve been an accident. Except I don’t own a shirt I can’t throw in the washer with a bit of detergent.”

“I had an orange soda. That stain was never coming out. For the sake of a story, I can drink orange soda.” Alex flashed him a grin.

Do that again. That grin hit Blake in the gut and he had to remind himself this was all fake. “Maybe you offered to buy me a new shirt, and I said I hated shopping, and you offered to go with me to keep me company and help me pick, because I know nothing about clothes.” Blake gestured up and down himself. His T-shirt was snug, and his jeans kind of fit, and that was as far as his fashion sense went. Whatever the gay shopping-gene was, he’d missed out on it. Alex, on the other hand, even in the clothes he wore to work, with his tie off and the shirt open at the throat, looked super put-together.

Alex gave him another glance at the traffic light. “Yeah, if you’re crappy at shopping, that sounds believable.” But the comment came with a soft smile that took the sting out of it. “My last boyfriend was a disaster in the clothes department. I swear, he still wore his shirts from high school.”

And you still dated him. That was reassuring, in a way. “You are single now, though?” Being willing to white-knight and fake-date didn’t imply anything. Maybe Blake was getting his hopes up for nothing.

But Alex nodded. “Yeah, two years since he moved to LA and we decided to split up, and there’s no one beyond casual since. Likewise, I assume this whole charade wouldn’t be necessary if you had a real boyfriend. Or did I overstep when you didn’t need me to?”

“No.” Blake could feel his face heat. “Cary was right. I don’t date.”

“Because you don’t want to? Are you asexual or aromantic? You don’t owe them an explanation.”

“No, I want to, I just… I don’t know.” Blake struggled to put things into words. “I was kind of oblivious in school, like, I thought I was just slow to notice girls. Then for a couple of years I didn’t really meet other queer guys. I was still figuring myself out. I stuck to online, and when I got up the nerve for apps, it was just for hookups. Then I started rooming with Noel. He needed someone to split the rent.“

“Noel?”

“One of the group.” Blake gestured toward the fast-approaching bar. “And then I met his friends, and, I don’t know. They’re all hot. You could see that. I can’t compete with that. I don’t have money and I’m not smart or funny or really anything. They let me hang out and Cary usually pays for stuff, but I don’t fit in like they do.“

“You’re a hell of a lot kinder than they are.” Alex laid a hand on Blake’s thigh.

Even through his jeans, Blake could feel its warmth. “You don’t know that. You don’t know me at all.”

“You didn’t snipe back at Cary or yell at him.”

“Maybe I couldn’t come up with anything useful to say.” He didn’t want to admit he was between screaming and tears, mostly, and a long way from witty repartee.

Alex squeezed Blake’s knee and let go. “Well, either way, we’d better play twenty questions before we go in, so we don’t blow our cover. I’m thirty-eight, you?”

“You don’t look it. I’m twenty-five.”

“You know my job. What do you do?”

“It’s nothing fancy or important.” Blake didn’t want to say, but someone would probably bring it up as a “joke.” He hadn’t realized just how much he hated some of those jokes, till he realized a hot stranger with kind eyes was hearing them. “I’m a bus driver. City bus.”

“Well, that’s useful. I bet the folks waiting for a bus to get them home from work think you’re more important than a lawyer.”

“Oh, um, I guess.” Blake had never had anyone defend his occupation for him. “Anyhow, I work an early shift, five-thirty to three-thirty.”

“You get the morning rush hour then. Must have nerves of steel. I hate waking up in the mornings, have to set three alarms. That could be something we tease each other about.”

“All right.” The idea of having someone to tease and like it caught at Blake’s breath.

“I live over off Central, have two older sisters out of state, some nephews, parents I see once in a blue moon, a small condo, and a tortoiseshell cat named Poe. Poe’s a girl, but the way. She likes to bite toes. You?”

“Um. Apartment on Seventh. Shared with Noah. He’s a salesman in Old Navy. Parents have no clue I’m queer. Small town. I go home for major holidays. One younger brother, senior in high school. No pets.”

“Hobbies? Besides old films?”

“Old cars. Same era. Just to look at, because I’m pretty broke. You?”

Alex shrugged. “I know nothing about cars. You can tease me about that too. I do crosswords for fun.”

“Ouch,” Blake said out of reflex, then felt his face heat. “It’s just, I’m a bit dyslexic. Not so bad I can’t pass a driving test or read road signs, but school was kind of painful. That’s what Cary meant by that crack about me not reading Jason’s signature. I did flunk cursive.” He regretted the evening with beer and weed when he’d accidentally admitted that.

“He was making fun of you for a disability?” Alex glowered. “Well, fuck him sideways.”

“No, thank you.” Blake unbuckled his seat belt as Alex parked at the side of the bar. When Blake opened the door, he became aware that something was missing, not outside but in his head. A sense of anxiety, of dread. How long have I dreaded meeting up with Noel and his friends and not realized it? It was as if Alex’s scorn had let him take a fresh new look.

Alex came around the car and held out his hand. “Shall we?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind coming in?”

“Mind?” Alex beckoned with his fingers. “I can’t wait to make that Cary’s head explode. Come on.”

Blake put his hand in Alex’s and let himself be led forward.

But before they rounded the corner of the building, Alex paused. “Hey, you said you’re not ace. Which means they’ll expect us to kiss.”

“I guess.” Black Jack’s wasn’t a gay bar but it was queer-friendly. “Probably.”

“So maybe we should practice.” Alex turned to face him.

“You want to kiss me?”

“I brushed my teeth at work and everything.”

Blake realized he hadn’t since morning,

Perhaps his face betrayed his thought, because Alex tugged him closer, strong despite his smaller build. “Come on, we’ve been dating for two months. We don’t want to fumble this.”

“I guess.” Blake’s head still spun with the whole change of affairs.

Alex stepped into him confidently, set a hand behind Blake’s head, and pulled him into a kiss. At first, it was no deeper than the one they’d shared on the sidewalk at the town hall, but then Alex changed the angle and opened his lips and… hell, yeah. Blake hadn’t realized how much he missed kissing. He’d only had a couple of guys who wanted to, years back, and nothing since beyond a wet clash of mouths as a prelude to someone dropping to their knees.

Alex was a good kisser, enthusiastic but not sloppy, powerful but not demanding. He gave Blake time to react, to back off, before taking advantage of parted lips or hesitant tongue. They mismatched a bit at first, finding a rhythm, but after a couple of minutes, Alex pulled back and grinned. “I think we got the hang of this.”

“We could practice some more.” Blake‘s voice came out breathier than he intended.

“The sooner we meet your friends, the less drunk they‘ll be.” Alex sounded reluctant but he let go of Blake’s hand and turned for the door.

This was make-believe, you fool. Practice. He didn’t mean anything by it. For a moment, Blake had been caught up in the perfection of Alex’s mouth and forgotten that. He hustled a couple of steps and fell in beside Alex. Just make-believe. But when Alex winked at him and took his hand, it got harder to remember.

Jason and Kyle and their friends had grabbed a couple of tables by the dance floor. Noel was already out there grinding on some black-haired twink, scandalizing the het couple next to them from the glares they were getting. The others sat at the tables with an array of drinks in front of them.

Cary called, “Hey, wow, Blakey. You brought an actual boyfriend. Someone, quick, buy a lottery ticket.”

Blake slowed, his heart pounding stupidly, but Alex’s grip on his hand propelled him forward.

Alex said, “Given we’ve been together for two months, if our good luck could make you hit the numbers it should’ve happened already.” He pulled out a chair and ushered Blake into it with a courtesy he couldn’t resist, then tugged another chair in beside him and sat.

The drape of Alex’s arm across Blake’s shoulders gave him a flash of courage. “Yeah, really, and you wonder why I never told you?”

Cary’s face twisted. He reached for an untouched bright pink drink and slid it over to Blake. “Here‘s yours. They call it the Betty. I didn’t know what your, um, boyfriend would like.”

Alex said, “His ‘um, boyfriend‘ would like a beer. And I bet Blake would too. Right, hon?” Alex slid the pink booze back to Cary. “You can have this when you’ve finished your Shirley, or whatever you’re drinking. Hang in there, Blake, and wait for me. I’ll be right back.”

Blake wasn’t sure what the “wait” emphasis was for, but he realized he already trusted Alex more than he trusted Cary, so he declined the repeated offer of the Betty.

“That guy’s got you under his thumb, huh?” Cary said.

“More like under his dick.” Blake grinned with more confidence than he felt. “And I have zero objections.”

“You let him tell you what to drink?”

“You bought me that Betty and I don’t even know what’s in it. He’s getting me a beer and he’ll fuck me later. I know which offer is better.”

“Yeah, I have no interest in fucking you.” Cary stared over at the dance floor for a minute. “Does your old dude even know how to dance?”

Blake smirked because that was clearly sour grapes. Cary’s last boyfriend had been forty. “Why don’t you ask him?” Since I have no clue. But he realized he had faith in Alex answering the question in a way that didn’t make either of them look bad.

“How come you didn’t bring him to the Fourth of July bash? In fact, you were drooling over that Russian dancer all night.”

“That dude was hot. Dating someone doesn’t make me blind. As for the Fourth of July party…” He hesitated about what lie to craft.

From over his shoulder, Alex said, “My nephews had a family event. Duty called. But not so loud that Blake had to endure two preteens for seven hours.” He set two beers on the table, and bent to kiss Blake’s cheek. “Here, hon. Try this weiss beer. It’s a favorite.” Alex slid into the seat next to Blake and took a long swallow. “Ahh.”

Blake raised his mug and did the same. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Cary, realizing the bastard was fumbling for something nasty to say. Why do I even hang out with him? If ever there was a face that needed a block button.

Noel came their way and scooped up a glass Annie had been guarding. “A toast!” Noah’s eyes looked unfocused and he tipped his glass as he raised it, dropping a splash on Annie’s shirt. “To the happy couple to be. Jason and Kyle!”

They all drank, of course, but then Annie pushed her chair back. “I’m out of here. This shirt is silk, you know.”

“Sorry, gorgeous,” Noah mumbled.

“Yeah.” She stood and kissed his cheek. “Have fun, don’t get busted, use the damned condoms.”

“I’m on PrEP, you harpy.”

“Use them anyway. Come on, Grace.”

As the women headed to the door, Alex drained his mug and got up. “We’re out of here too. Got better things to do. You understand.” He winked at Cary.

Cary grabbed Blake’s wrist in a painfully tight grip. “You can’t go yet, Blakey. There’s booze to drink and dances to dance and guys to bachelorize.”

“Let go of him.” The ice in Alex’s tone shocked Blake almost as much as Cary’s grab.

Of course, he was capable of jerking his arm free of Cary hand. But would you do it without someone to back you up? Blake twisted his wrist loose and stood. “We’re out of here,” he confirmed. “Kyle, Jason, happy end of bachelorhood. Let me know if you want me and Alex at the wedding. Night, everyone.”

It wasn’t till he’d led Alex to the door that he realized what he’d implied. In a low voice, he said, “You don’t have to come to the wedding even if they do invite us. I can just say you’re busy. Or say we broke up although I’d like to wait awhile for that.” The cooler air outside soothed his cheeks. “So it doesn’t seem fishy.”

“I’ll do the wedding if you want me.” Alex headed for his car, the lights flashing as they approached. “I really don’t like your so-called friend Cary.”

Blake had definitely gotten that impression. “Me neither. Speaking of Cary, what was with you not wanting me to drink that pink thing he got me? Other than the name and the color.” An odd thought occurred. “You don’t think he would’ve spiked it?”

“Probably not. Almost certainly not.” Alex slid into the driver’s seat, then looked at Blake as he got in. “And if he did, most likely it would be extra booze to make you drunk, or, I don’t know, laxative or something. But maybe acid, or whatever. Cary seemed to really need you as a victim for his jokes, and cruel people don’t like when their victim wriggles free.”

“Cary’s not like that.”

“I noticed he didn’t drink that Betty himself.”

Startled, Blake met Alex’s steady gaze and Alex didn’t even blink.

Impossible, right? Blake didn’t want to even think about it,

After a frozen moment, Alex turned away and started the car. “Anyway, you’re heading home and no harm done. Shall I give you a lift home or…” This pause was almost as long, but less strained. “Or would you like to come and meet my cat?”

“Seriously? I’d love to meet Poe.” And not have to give you up yet.

“I don’t mean anything else by the offer. Not unless you want to. You said you wished you had a cat.”

That’s not all I wished. “I want to.”

Alex’s smile went a little wicked. “Hm, I like the sound of that. Right. Cat, some food to sop up the beer and whatever you drank before it. And then, we’ll see.”

Alex’s place was ten minutes’ drive from the bar. The townhouses stood in a staggered row, two-story and narrow, but with cute front porches and bay windows. Alex unlocked his door and ushered Blake inside. The front room was tidy, other than a couple of cat toys scattered on the floor. A leather sofa sat flanked by two fluffy, squishy beanbag chairs. Blake couldn’t resist flopping down in one, saying as he dropped, “I haven’t seen—”

The words were snatched from his mouth by a ferocious yowl and the dig of sharp needles into his ass. He arched himself off the chair, landing on hands and knees on the carpet. A bundle of furious beige and gray fur leaped past him with a hiss, then the cat paused, flattened its ruffled coat, and paced off, its tail flicking.

“I’m so sorry.” Alex sounded sincere but Blake could see his lips twitching. “I was going to warn you. That one’s old and the middle sags, and she can hide herself quite well inside it.”

“I didn’t notice anything.” Blake pushed to one knee.

Alex reached a hand toward him. “Here. Come on up. The couch is comfortable enough.”

Their fingers met and heat rushed through Blake as Alex hauled him to his feet. To cover his reaction, he rubbed his ass with his free hand as he stood. “That was not how I wanted my ass to hurt tonight.”

“No?” Alex was closer than Blake had realized, his blue eyes boring into Blake’s. “What did you have in mind?”

Blake’s mouth went dry. Fuck me? He didn’t quite have the nerve to say it after a couple of hours of acquaintance, but he managed, “Fake boyfriend’s choice?” Which reminded him how this had started. “Did I say thank you so, so mmph—” Alex’s kiss stopped the words on his lips.

After a long, very satisfying minute, Alex broke the kiss with a nip to Blake’s lower lip. “I have a feeling I’m going to be extremely well paid back.” He hesitated. “Although there’s no obligation, right? That’s not why I did it.”

“I know.” Blake was surprised by a flash of tenderness as he cupped Alex’s face between his hands, feeling the blond almost-invisible stubble prickle against his fingers. “You did it because you’re a really, truly good guy and you couldn’t stand listening to Cary turning me into a quivering lump of jelly.”

“Hey.” Alex turned his head enough to brush his lips over Blake’s palm. “You were not jelly. You were trying to keep the peace on your friends’ engagement day.”

“Maybe.” That was a charitable interpretation of why Cary’s barbs seemed so impossible to return. Blake would pretend it was true. “Anyway, this was the best day I’ve had in a long time. Watching Cary turn purple. Helping me see what he was doing. Meeting you.” The kisses. Blake already felt like he knew himself better than when he’d gotten up that morning, and that was no small gift, even if nothing else happened. Although he hoped it would.

“Same.” Alex ran a hand from Blake’s throat over his chest to his belt buckle. “And it’s only going to get better. If you don’t mind making out with an old guy.“

“I didn’t realize you heard that.” Blake leaned close. “Cary’s last boyfriend was a lot older than you. Or at least looked it. I think Cary was jealous.”

“I think you might be right. Question is, of you or of me?” Alex frowned. “No, don’t answer that. Cary’s irrelevant, except as the bad guy in our how-we-met story. Right now—”

The yowl that interrupted them this time was more plaintive, but not softer. Poe paced toward them, scolding. For a little lean cat she had one hell of a voice.

“Sorry,” Alex said. “I think she’s part Siamese.” He scooped Poe up and tucked her in the crook of his arm. “Her bowl must be empty. Or sort of empty.” Down to the cat, he crooned, “Yes, yes, Princess Greedy-pants. I hear you. I will feed you.”

The cat patted at his face, but her clawtips showed and Alex dodged. “Food. Got the message. Watch the daggers.” He set the cat on her feet and turned to Blake. “Sorry. I should feed her. And really, I could eat and I should feed you too. A light snack, anyhow. If I’m going to take you to bed and play fake boyfriend’s choice with you, I need to not be starving and you need to not be drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” Blake protested, although yeah, maybe some of the air of unreality of this whole thing was the cocktails he and the gang had started the afternoon with. “But I guess that makes sense.”

“You bet your ass.” Alex gave him a fast peck, then heading in the direction of what must be the kitchen.

“Out of curiosity,” Blake asked, following him and appreciating the view. “What is the fake boyfriend going to choose?”

This time, Alex’s smile over his shoulder was a lot more than slightly wicked. “For me to know and you to find out.”

“No fair,” Blake complained on principle, although the heat in his groin made the complaint a lie.

“You have veto power,” Alex told him. “But I have lots of good ideas.”

“Do we both get to come in those ideas of yours?” Blake sat on the bar-stool Alex waved him to.

“Maybe twice.” Alex poured kibble in the cat’s dish. “How early do you have to get up? Think we might manage three times?”

Blake sucked in a breath and blessed the gods of bus-route scheduling. “I have tomorrow off. The night is mine. And I’m all yours.”

He had a moment of worry that might be too much, but Alex strode over and grabbed his shoulders, delivered a fast kiss. “Best news ever. Now a light snack—“

Blake kept him from straightening with a hand in his blond hair. “First another kiss. Longer. Better.“

Alex’s mouth on his started out wild and demanding, but then slowed, gentled. Blake found himself sinking into the sensations, into Alex’s arms sliding around his shoulders, into the soft press of mouth on mouth. When they separated and he opened his eyes, the sight of Alex looking at him, a couple of blurry inches away, already seemed perfectly familiar. Familiar and perfect. The blue eyes and the cheekbones and the elegant nose and full lips— just… Alex.

Three hours ago, I didn’t know he existed. That seemed impossible.

“I’m really glad you needed a fake boyfriend today.” Alex straightened. “I’m really glad that all the other gay men in this town are totally blind and couldn’t see what they were missing. And that your two bozo friends decided they needed to get married.”

“We might not actually be good together in bed,” Blake suggested, even though his whole body hummed like a livewire just from that kiss.

Alex threw his head back and laughed. Blake had never seen a better sight in his life than the shine of the recessed lights on Alex’s blond hair and the faint shadows that outlined his jaw and the curve of his throat. “Babe,” Alex said, and Blake already craved those pet names inn Alex’s precise voice. “I don’t have one second of worry about incompatibility. Not with the way you kiss. Now I’m going to feed us bagels and cheese until I’m sure you’ve sopped up the alcohol, and then I’m going to take you to bed and make you feel high as a kite again.”

“Big talk,” Blake teased, but honestly, all Alex had to do to make Blake feel high was smile at him that way.

“I have big follow-through.” Alex cupped his groin through his slacks, not quite tightly enough for Blake to verify the boast. Then he opened the fridge and looked inside.

Blake thought maybe he should be doing something to help, but a long day that had begun with work, moved on to engagement, cocktails, and ended here, was catching up with him. For now, he was content to watch the cat crunching her kibble, and Alex slathering cheese on bagels. He’d be happy to eat a bagel too.

Hovering at the back of Blake’s mind were “Lots of good ideas” and “Maybe three times.” He watched Alex’s fingers manipulate the cheese wrapper and imagined them on his skin. He watched Alex lick a smear of cheese off his thumb, and could almost feel the shape of that thumb in his mouth. Alex caught him looking and grinned that wide, perfect grin.

And Blake had a feeling that for the rest of his life, he’d be glad he’d gone with fake boyfriend’s choice.

 

~~ the end ~~

If you like short stories, I write a new one almost every week for my Facebook group – Kaje’s Conversation Corner. We’d love to have you join us.