Page 18 of Duped

Portland snagged his legs and yanked, pulling him down the bed. He pretended to tickle his ribs while straddling Tarek’s body. Portland didn’t put any real effort into it. He hated being tickled and meant the moment to be playful. Tarek squirmed beneath him, playing along. Portland used the opportunity to steal the kiss he wanted. While their tongues played, Portland plotted. He would borrow one of Tarek’s rings he had left on the bathroom counter, so he could get a size. Tarek would get a proper proposal. They would have a happy life. Portland would make damn sure of that. First, he had a terrible chef to fire.

Chapter Eight

Thecompetingsmellsoffried foods mixed in the air, leaving an indecipherable odor of grease. It reminded Portland of his teenage years. They were a long time ago, but the fair was one of his good memories. He held Tarek’s hand while Tarek tried looking at everything at once.

“Have you never been here?”

At Portland’s question, Tarek looked his way. “No. I’ve only lived here a couple of years. Honestly, I still don’t feel confident driving without my GPS, much less have I done a ton of exploring. This is great, though.” He laughed. “I still don’t see this being a place you’d hang out.”

“I grew up in this town,” Portland reminded him. “While my parents definitely weren’t the type to take their son to the fair, my friends loved to hang out here. We would spend whole weekends at the fair, trying to pick up chicks.”

A loud bark of laughter burst from Tarek. He covered his mouth to stifle the sound, but his eyes sparkled with humor. After a second, he pulled his hand away just enough to speak. “You picked up chicks?”

Portland chuckled at Tarek’s reaction. “Of course. You have to remember, being gay wasn’t openly accepted back then. Like any teenager, I wanted to fit in with my friends.” He winked. “One of them knew the truth, though.”

Tarek shook his head. “I have the hardest time picturing you as a teenager. You never really talk much about yourself, much less your childhood.”

“To be fair, you don’t talk about your childhood either. I understand, though. I’m sure it’s hard to talk about your parents.”

Tarek looked away for a second, making Portland wish he hadn’t said anything. When Tarek looked back, he seemed okay. “Are your parents still alive?”

Portland shook his head. “They both died pretty young, actually. My mom died when I was a senior in high school. She had some rare and silent form of cancer. They didn’t even know about it until the autopsy. At least she didn’t suffer. My dad remarried less than a year later. Thankfully, he had an ironclad prenup. When he died less than a decade later, she tried to fight me for everything my mother had built.”

Tarek’s eyebrows rose. “Your mother was the wealthy one?”

Portland nodded. “She came from old money. They hated my dad and cut her off until I was born. Since she was used to being wealthy, she did everything she could to build her own empire. Once I was born and my grandparents had a grandchild to consider, she was cut back into the family's money as well. They didn’t want me going without. So, really, the money Dad’s wife tried to get was mine. I was just trying to be nice after I turned twenty-one by letting my dad stay in the home he had lived in since he married my mom. But technically, everything he owned was mine. Mom left everything to me. My grandparents would’ve never let it be any other way, even if Mom hadn’t managed to build her own fortune.”

“Are either of your grandparents still alive?”

Portland smiled. “My grandmother is. I’m pretty sure she intends to outlive us all. She’s ninety-three and still lives at home, running the place like a queen.” He looked Tarek’s way. “She’ll love you.”

Tarek’s eyebrows rose. “Do you really believe that, or are you humoring me? Surely, if she hated your dad, she’ll take one look at me and assume I’m a gold digger.”

He squeezed Tarek’s hand. “Nah. Everyone hated my dad because he was a serial cheater. My grandma is one of those sickeningly sweet people. Under normal circumstances, she loves everyone, but you’re especially her type.”

“How so?” Tarek sounded genuinely curious.

“You’re a born giver. All it takes is one look at you to see you’re the type of person who will give someone the shirt off their back if you care about them.”

Tarek looked away. “I hope that’s true.” He looked back. His eyes sparkled. “I’d give you any clothes you wanted.”

Portland shook his head at his antics. He loved Tarek so goddamn much. No one else set him free to relax and let his guard down. No one else in his life was good. Portland spotted the Ferris wheel.

He pulled Tarek toward it. “Come on. We have to ride this one.”

Tarek shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

The second Tarek turned his back, Portland handed the man operating the ride fifty bucks. The guy knew what it was for without Portland asking. They strapped in and the wheel slowly spun, lifting them into the air. The moment they reached the highest point, the wheel stopped.

Tarek glanced around. “Wow. It’s beautiful up here.”

Portland’s gaze never wavered from Tarek even as he dug the ring he had bought that morning from his pocket. “It is.”

Tarek turned his head and met his gaze. They stared at each other, and Portland knew this was right.

“I did something as cliche as possible.”

A smile exploded across Tarek’s lips. “What’s that? I can’t see you doing anything like anyone else.”

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