Page 54 of I Think They Love You

luck i guess

Denz can’t believe he’s working his lunch hour. He blames Auntie Eva. And his mom. Jamie and Nic too. Valentine’s Day is fast approaching, and Denz can’t letanythingruin the mayor’s gala.

Including what his fake boyfriend is going to wear.

So, one quick Google search later, he’s standing in front of a two-story building wedged between a small art gallery and a custom T-shirt printing shop. The exterior is white stucco with tall windows. In black lettering, surrounded by a rainbow circle, the sign reads,SKYE’S THE LIMIT.

On the double glass doors leading inside, a message awaits:

For the ones like Skye… you’ll always belong here.

Denz smiles.

Sunlight washes across the interior. Pastel furniture is angled throughout the open space. A rainbow river painted on the cement floor winds through a collection of cubicles. Beyond that, hints of a lounge area, stairs, and an elevator.

Denz knows most of the colorful flags hung on the walls: pride, transgender, bisexual, pan, ace. There are a few he doesn’t immediately recognize. A lavender, white, and dark green one. Another made up of oranges, reds, and pinks. A yellow flag with a purple circle.

He’s met by a pretty, twentysomething Black person with a Skye’s the Limit lanyard. The badge saysWHITLEY, SHE/HER.Her sparkly blue nails tap against a defined bicep.

“Can I help you?”

Denz’s eyes search around. Why didn’t he text or call ahead? What if Braylon’s not here? “I’m looking for—”

“Denz?”

The voice comes from one of the cubicles. Then Braylon strides cautiously into the lobby. He grips a mug of steaming tea.

Denz waves awkwardly. “Surprise?”

Braylon blinks owlish eyes. Whitley has one of thoseshould I call 911 or just pepper-spray his ass?expressions. Denz is equally intimidated and awed.

“Sorry. Um, this is Whit.” Braylon gestures toward his coworker, who may or may not be ready to take Denz down with a move she learned in a self-defense course. “And this is Denz. My… boyfriend.”

A tiny, weird zip of heat runs through Denz’s chest at that last word.

“Nice to meet you,” he says to Whit.

She cocks her head. “So this is the guy that has you smiling at your phone like an idiot?”

Smirking, Denz says, “Well, this is new information.”

“It’sfalseinformation.” Braylon clutches his mug tighter. “Shouldn’t you be at work? Planning the gala?”

“That’s why I’m here. I’ll explain later.” He turns to Whit. “Now, on average, how often is he smiling at his—”

“That’s quite enough,” tuts Braylon, stepping between them.

Denz shrugs. “Hungry?”

The other part of the reason he’s here is their earlier message exchange. By the sheer volume of emails Denz has gotten over the last few days, he can tell Braylon’s pouring all his energy into the spring break day party. In college, between managing classwork, swimming, and a boyfriend, Braylon often forgot to eat if Denz wasn’t there to remind him.

He’s not saying he drove twenty-three minutes in traffic out ofconcernfor Braylon’s poor nutritional habits. He’s simply performing his fake boyfriend duties.

“You want to have lunch?” Braylon frowns.“Here?”

“I do.”

“And you won’t mind if I work while eating?”

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