Page 90 of I Think They Love You

“Or because you didn’t reciprocate?”

Denz’s eyes grow cartoonishly wide. “I—shit. You surprised me. I—”

Braylon snorts loudly before he can finish.

Oh. Denz flips him off.

“No weirdness,” Braylon says, still half laughing. “It was just a blow job. That’s all. You were tense. Had a shit week. Orgasms release endorphins, and I need you at the top of your game for my idea to work. You’re still up for it, right?”

Denz nods. “I’m in.”

He’ll schedule a follow-up email. Send out a Google calendar reminder. Later, though. Right now, he needs his eyes to stop tracing over Braylon’s chest. The soft smile pushing at his cheeks.

How the hell does he look so sweet after having Denz’s dick in that sinful mouth?

“I should get home. Work tomorrow morning,” Denz says because, if Braylon asked, he’d unquestionably stay the night.

“Okay,” Braylon says.

“Okay,” Denz echoes, not even a little disappointed. “So…”

His brain once again dances around how to say goodbye. Ahug? A fist-bump and “thanks for the sandwich and next-level blow job”?

He settles on, “See you soon. For more, um. Fake boyfriend things.”

At the front door, he adds, “Thanks, Braylon” with a genuine grin that refuses to fade, even after he steps into the cool, damp night.

By midweek, Denz is in full event planner mode. No email goes unanswered. He drains his phone’s battery talking to vendors and caterers. Schedules meetings with Eric to discuss floral arrangements, menu ideas, the entertainment. Uploads detailed notes on his dad’s party into the cloud with backup copies stored on his desktop.

He never leaves the office before 5:00P.M.Sometimes, later.

Denz manages to juggle three things at once—the retirement party, Braylon’s spring break event, and their plans for fixing Skye’s the Limit’s social media. It’s like being in college again, his blood mostly composed of energy drinks and whatever’s fast and easy to eat.

He loves every second of it. But there’s still one item left to address.

“What’s this?”

Kami stares suspiciously at the lemon poppy seed muffin Denz places on her desk.

“A peace offering,” he replies.

“Are we fighting?”

“I don’t know.” Denz flops dramatically onto the comfy chair in her office. “I thought we were?”

“Why?” Kami’s gold bangles slip down her wrist as she tucks a curl behind her ear. “Because you had a meltdown last week?”

“I didn’t have a—” Denz sighs. “Fine. I was being a brat.”

“You had your reasons.”

“I didn’t have to take it out on you.”

“No, you didn’t.” Kami bites into the muffin, obviously waiting for more of an explanation.

Denz doesn’t have one yet. He’s still processing it all. The conversation with their dad. What Kami said. The things Braylon said too.

(The things Braylon did. Which he’s not thinking about. Except, occasionally, his braingoes there.)

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