Page 67 of The Boyfriend Gamble

Cameron eyed me. “Choice?”

“Why don’t we go to Starbucks? There and Tim Horton’s are both good choices, but I have a hankering for a java chip frappucino.”

He winced. “That’s an excessive amount of sugar.”

I patted my flat stomach. “I’ll be fine. At The Junction? I’ll meet you inside.” Before he could respond, I headed out the door.

His insistence on going for coffee had to be a good thing.

Right?

I drove my old car down to The Junction. The first flakes were coming down. Even if we had a massive dump of snow, it wouldn’t be like the storms back where I’d come from.

Twelve hundred kilometers.

Seven-hundred-and-fifty miles.

Twelve very long hours.

Still in British Columbia, though. Fort St. John was so far north that I’d been close to the Yukon Territory and not far from the Arctic circle. Mission City was in the southwestern-most corner and nearly brushed the US border.

Two different worlds.

Similar politics a lot of the time, though.

I pulled into a parking space, cut my engine, unbuckled my seatbelt, and got out of the car. Energy thrummed through me, despite having just left everything back on the court.

As I entered the store, the smell of coffee assailed me.

Blake waved. “Hi, Jasper.”

I took great comfort that they already knew my name.

Cameron had casually mentioned Blake preferredtheybut had also sought gender-affirming medical care, and it hadn’t gone over well in the community or with their family. At all. People regularly deadnamed them.

Naturally, I was horrified. People could be such shits.

“Blake, my sweetest. I’m looking forward to the best frapp ever.”

They grinned. “Coming up. Tristan will take your order.”

The handsome university student stood by the till with a grin on his face. “How’d the game go?”

Four weeks, and everyone already knew I played badminton Saturday mornings and came in for a drink at Starbuck’s afterward.

Four weeks of playing with Cameron.

He really should’ve remembered my name last night. Hell, he probably should’ve recognized me from the start. Just showed how shitfaced he’d been.

Shame swamped me. I’d taken advantage of a drunk guy. Bad idea. Maybe that’s what he wanted to talk about. “Java chip frapp.”

“You bet.” Tristan swiped my card. “You’ve still got money on the card, so you’re good.”

“Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

“How’s Olivia?”

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