Page 13 of Maybe We Can Fake It

“Look, why don’t we talk about this later?” I say, avoiding Brenden’s curious eyes. They’re a bright ocean blue, and I could easily sink into their depths if I’m not careful. “Somewhere more private?”

“But—”

“I’ve got to get back in the kitchen before Addison comes out to yell at me.” I’m deflecting, but it’s a fair concern. “I already pressed her buttons by suggesting a cherry-apricot muffin would be better than her strawberry rhubarb.”

Brenden’s gaze finally falls away from me as he looks down at the plate with the two muffins. The one I made, which he was eating, and Addison’s, which remains untouched. “Is that what that was?” He actually picks up my muffin this time and takes a large bite out of it. The strangled moan he lets out a second later goes straight to my dick. “Damn, that’s orgasmic.”

Uh, yeah. Kind of got that impression.

My cheeks heat. I swear Brenden Sanderson is the only man on Earth who can make me blush. And he’s not even doing it on purpose.

“Who knew you could get creative in a kitchen,” he muses. “Why do you only serve blueberry and that nasty bran kind at the diner?”

“Because people go there for simple food. Like I’ve told you many times, lots of regulars eat the bran muffins. But people come here for a different experience. They want the fancy shit.”

He laughs. “So eloquent.”

I grunt in response, making him laugh some more. And I love that sound.

Then his expression turns serious, and he’s staring at me again like he’s trying to peer into my soul. Like he’s remembering the bomb I just dropped on him.

I shift in my seat, scratching at the scuff on my jaw. It’s a bit of a nervous tic, so I force myself to stop. “Anyway, uh... I meant it about being...” My words keep getting stuck, so I clear my throat. I’m a grown ass man. It shouldn’t be so hard to say.

I’m gay.

It’s not a new thing for me.

I flash back to my life in Boston, those years in college and right afterward when I was mostly out and living the life I wanted. Before I gave it all up to move back here.

This isn’t the time or place for this conversation though.

One of the workers strolls up the porch steps and stops to ask Brenden a question, proving my point. After he walks away, Brenden turns back to me expectantly.

“We both need to get back to work,” I remind him.

He smiles. “You don’t technically work here.”

“Tell that to Addison.” I stand, grabbing the plate of muffins and handing it to him once he stands too. “And try her muffin.”

Taking a small bite of it, he hums thoughtfully. “It’s really good. Not as good as yours though.” The little tease winks at me.

I have to tell my dick to calm down again. I usually have more self-control around him. All these years of friendship have gotten me used to his silly charm. Not immune. Just used to it.

He seems to hesitate in walking back inside, and I know I’ve left this giant weird thing hanging between us. He’s normally a big talker. We can hold entire conversations where I say one word to his twenty. It says a lot more now, the fact that he’s holding back.

Lowering my voice and wondering if I’ve lost my mind, I tell him, “Look, if you’re really considering the, uh, the fake boyfriend thing—which I think is a terrible idea, by the way—then we can talk about it later.”

His eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. “Tonight?”

“Sure. I’ll come to your place?”

When he nods in agreement, I’m afraid I’ve already sealed my fate.What am I getting myself into?

As he leans in to give me a hug, I pat his back sort of awkwardly. “Thank you,” he says, pulling back. Then—“Achoo!” He sneezes all over my chest and immediately looks mortified.“Oh god, I’m so sorry! I’m not sick, I swear! It’s these fucking allergies. I’m so gross, I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay,” I assure him, though I’m afraid to look down at my shirt, because it probablyisgross. “You’re fine. You’re human, you know.”

“Nope. Not allowed to be.” He laughs like it’s a joke, but something in his tone makes me wonder if he actually believes that, at least a little.

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