Page 74 of I'm Your Guy
“You do?” He stares at me.
“Occasionally. Most of my dreams are, like, Ryan Reynolds is blowing me in his Deadpool costume. Or I’m hired to design a sex lair for Prince Harry.”
Tommaso laughs suddenly. “Of course you dream that.”
“But everybody has their shadows. They show up from time to time.”
His smile fades, replaced by the intense frown that I’ve grown to love. “I’m surprised. You just seem so you all the time. Like the bullshit doesn’t get you down.”
I reach out and cover his hand with mine. But he does it one better—he flips his hand over and clasps my fingers. And now I know how it feels to have Tommaso DiCosta hold my hand.
It feels amazing. But I can’t let myself get distracted, because this is the most important thing I know. “Look, being me is the only way I know how to be. For better or for worse. Sometimes it’s easy, and everything just clicks. And sometimes it means lying awake at night, remembering that time my secret high school boyfriend called me a fairy in front of his cowboy friends.”
His grip on my hand tightens. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. But fuck him. Not literally, because he was the top. But still—fuck him. I finally gave up and moved away. And now I hear he cheats on his wife. Miserable people are not our responsibility.”
Still gripping my hand, he leans back against the wall and sighs. “I shouldn’t care what other people think. I just don’t know how to stop.”
“You’ll stop when you choose your own freedom over theirs. When the scale finally tips, and you would rather be on the other side. That’s how it worked for me, anyway.”
He blows out a breath. This is a man with a lot on his mind.
A man I’m crushing on. But he’s also a friend, and so I do the difficult thing. I slip my hand out of his, and I get to my feet and put a little physical distance between us. It’s either that, or I’m going to climb in his lap and kiss the hell out of him.
He told me he’s not in a place where he can act on our attraction.
The least I can do is listen.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Tommaso
I’m glad I convinced Carter to stay at my place, because I have to jet off for another road trip, and I like the idea that he’s holding down the fort while I’m away. I couldn’t guess why, but knowing my house isn’t empty makes me feel less lonely.
And I really like knowing that he’s not worried about where he’ll sleep.
On the road, we’re back to communicating by text, and I find myself coming up with reasons to chat with him.
Tommaso
Christmas is coming soon. We need a tree, and I want to pick it out.
Carter
OMG! We found something you want to pick out. Alert the media. Do you have a Christmas tree stand?
Fuck no. All I have is a single stocking my mother sent me last year. But, hey, at least I have a mantle now.
Okay, I’ll take care of the stand and the decor. I was going to do the tree tomorrow. But I could wait for you.
It has to be fresh! And it has to be a Fraser fir.
Who’s the snob now? Okay, how about the night you come back from your game in New York? We can buy it and put it up together.
Yes. Done.
Wait! CRUCIAL QUESTION. Colored lights or white?
