Page 12 of Strawberry Kisses

“That sounds fair.” He paused, his skin starting to flush adorably from under his honey-blond curls. “What, um, what do you want to do about PDA?”

“Well, I think that comes under general expectations. How long does your family think we’ve been dating?”

“Er, I don’t know. Probably somewhere between a couple of months and a couple of years.”

“But you’ve only just come out, so I don’t think they’ll be expecting much, and every couple is different.” I gave him an encouraging smile. “How does hand-holding, hugging, and maybe some kissing sound? It can just be cheeks if you really want, although they may expect lips. You don’t have to use tongue though.” I winked at him, and Patrick’s face went from pastel to neon. Fucking hell, he was so cute like this.

“That, er, that sounds good.”

I had a sudden thought—one I knew I needed to bring up because I’d been around straight people and they always asked the most inappropriate questions about my sex life. I’d taken to asking about their own genitals and preference of positions, just to watch them squirm, but I wasn’t going to inflict than on Patrick. Not unless he wanted me to.

“Are you a top or bottom, babe?”

“What?” Patrick stared at me in horror like I’d just asked him if he preferred to eat cats or dogs.

I decided to elaborate because I had to assume Patrick didn’t understand the perils of navigating conversations about gay relationships with straight people and because I was desperately nosy, which I was well aware wasn’t always a good thing. But I’d asked now, and there was no taking it back.

“Well, virtually every time I’ve been at a gathering with straight people, they inevitably decide to ask how I like to fuck. I’m not saying you have to tell them—you can just politely tell them to fuck off—but I have to say I’m curious.”

“Er, I… I…”

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want. But since we’re sharing… I’m vers, but I prefer to top. Not that I won’t say no to a good dicking from the right man. Sometimes you just need to get pounded.”

“I, um, I…” Patrick looked down at his hands, then at the floor. Anywhere, it seemed, that wasn’t me. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that I’d accidentally stumbled onto something I shouldn’t have, like I’d opened my mouth and put both feet straight into it like the idiot I was. But… Patrick had to have had sex, right? I mean I knew he’d finally come out to his parents and me, but he must have had boyfriends before? Even if that thought made me want to vomit with jealousy. Green was not a colour that suited me.

“Babe, are you okay? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want,” I said as gently as I could, treating Patrick like he was a spooked horse. He looked about ready to bolt.

“What if I don’t know?” There was an anxious look on his face and an earnest note in his voice that made me want to pull him into my arms. “I, um, I’ve never had sex before.”

“Oh…” It took a moment for my brain to catch up and come back online, but there was absolutely no way in hell I was letting Patrick feel bad for never having sex. Society did a good enough job applying that pressure. “That’s okay. Don’t worry about it. It’s not a bad thing.” I reached out to take his hand in mine and squeezed it comfortingly.

“I know… I just… It’s a bit embarrassing, isn’t it? I’ll be thirty in August, and I’ve never had sex.”

“No, it’s not embarrassing. You don’t have to have sex, babe. It’s not the end of the world. Plenty of people get on just fine without it. You never have to have sex if you don’t want to.”

“I know, but I do want to. One day.” He sighed. He twisted his hands together, arms resting on his thighs, looking like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. A deep sadness seemed etched on his face, and I would have given anything to wipe it away. “I just… I didn’t figure out I was gay until I was twenty-three, and by then I was really busy with work. I always thought I’d meet someone, but it hasn’t happened.” A weak chuckle slipped from his lips, and my heart sank. I hated the way he was trying to play it off like it was no big deal when I could see that Patrick wanted nothing more than someone to love. “People don’t really like dating chefs. They find the schedule a bit unpredictable. So I just… stopped looking after a while.”

My mind was made up. After this weekend and this whole fake boyfriend thing was behind us, I was going to find Patrick someone. Someone who’d appreciate him, who’d cherish him, who’d give him everything he needed.

Someone who’d love him as much as I did.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. If you want someone, you’ll find someone. I’ll help you if you want. Let’s just get this weekend done first, then we can find you a boyfriend.”

Patrick let out a little noise, which almost sounded sad. “That sounds nice. Thank you.”

There was an awkward pause, and I looked down at my list. “So, um, are there any other rules or guidelines you want to add? Do I need to write down that you’ll always eat my olives and whole bits of cold tomato if there are any?”

“No, I’ll remember that. You could just pick them out you know.”

“I know, but that looks odd if I’m standing at a buffet. I’d much rather just give them to you.” I smiled at him, hoping the change of subject would bring a little sparkle back to his eyes. Patrick grinned, which was a start.

“Well, it’s mostly a buffet and a pizza van so I’m sure you can avoid any olives.”

“But what if everything else on the pizza is tasty?”

“Then I’ll eat your olives.”

“See? We’re the perfect pair. Now, how did we start dating? We should probably think on that since we’re bound to get asked a bajillion times. And if anything is going to trip us up, it’ll be plot holes in that story. I’ve heard nosy relatives are better at sniffing out relationship problems than drug dogs.”

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