Page 35 of I Think They Love You

“Which one?”

Denz bites his lip. He didn’t ask. “A good one?”

Jamie towels sweat off his face, eyebrows pinched. “Where’s he living now?”

“Atlanta?”

“Bro.” Jamie exhales. “You haven’t seen each other inyears. Not since he bounced across the Pacific—”

“Atlantic.”

“—and you haven’t taken five minutes to ask him the most basic icebreaker questions?”

“To be fair,” Denz starts, then stops. He’s got nothing. It’s notthat he isn’t curious about Braylon’s life since the breakup. It’s just that…

He’ll never admit this to anyone, but there were nights—sad, lonely, extremely tipsy nights—where his mind wandered to the man who couldn’t make eye contact with him at their college graduation. Unfortunate nights where Denz’s hands almost betrayed him. Almost searched Braylon’s name on social media. For a small glimpse. Not to see how great life was in fancy London, or even if Braylon was dating anyone.

Just to know he was okay.

Even now, he can’t convince himself to do it. The wound feels too fresh. Why is heartbreak that one scar that never heals cleanly? It always finds a way to ache, no matter how long it’s been.

“If you want this to work,” Jamie says, pushing damp hair off his brow, “get to know who Braylon isnow.”

“Sounds like a scam.”

“Isn’t every relationship?”

Denz’s face wrinkles. “What should I do?”

“Start by asking questions! Also, I suggest you two establish some rules.”

“Rules for what?”

“Denz.” Jamie stares at him incredulously. “How many fake-dating rom-coms have we watched together?”

At least half a dozen, and that’s just the Netflix originals.

“You need guidelines,” Jamie insists like some wise romance mentor and not the man whose last relationship ended over street tacos. “When does this end? Where are you going to show off your fake relationship? Physical boundaries—”

Denz snatches a pen and a pad of neon-green Post-its from his desk drawer. He pauses mid-scribble. “Physicalboundaries? Like hugging? Kissing?”

“Yeah.” Jamie waggles his eyebrows. “Is sex on the table?”

“Hell no!” Denz hurriedly lowers his voice. “No sex on, under, oraroundthe table. None at all. Why would we?”

Jamie sniffs his armpits before slipping on a clover-green T-shirt,LUCKY MICKEY’S TAVERNstamped in white letters across the front. “Because you’re fake-dating your ex.”

“Elaborate.”

“Wewere never going to have sex.”

“Obviously,” Denz agrees.

“But the variables have changed. You have past sexual history with Braylon. From what I remember, lots of unforgettable dicking happened between you two.”

Denz is going to set himself on fire. “Irrelevant details.”

Jamie scoffs. “Bro, you were a ten back then. You’re a twelve now. Braylon might want to—”

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