Page 22 of No Reservations

He glanced over at me again. “It’s not really exciting.” Instead of revealing our destination, he fiddled with the radio until he found a station playing alternative rock.

I settled back on the plush leather seat and watched the world roll by. A convenience store advertised two-dollar hot dogs. A daycare sat back in the trees, the yard filled with bright plastic toys. A lady walked a pair of Pomeranians in the tall grass beside a gas station. A few side streets with cute little housesspread out here and there. It was all so normal and… quaint? Was that the right word? I’d grown up in an apartment in the city, and my current condo sprawled over two-thousand square feet of mostly unused space.

In less than a week, Matthew would step through the doors into my condo. My lips twisted into a frown as I imagined him standing in the vast white space. Would he be comfortable there on the expensive furniture selected by a big-name decorator?

He turned into a dirt and gravel parking lot under a sign that read East Lake Market. “I hope this is okay,” he said as he piloted the Land Rover into a space between a pickup truck and an old Corolla.

We met on the path leading toward a huge field filled with tables, and he slipped his fingers through mine. Any worry about what he’d think of my condo or who had called or texted in the past few hours fled my mind at that simple touch. “I’m game. Let’s explore.” I squeezed his fingers and fought the urge to kiss him again.

The packed paths led past tables full of everything from knit socks to paintings of dragons to cheap jewelry and produce. Some vendors called out to passersby, while others worked on projects or played on their phones. I’d never been to a craft fair or flea market or… whatever this was before.

“Ooh, look at those!” Matthew’s hand tightened on mine as he pulled me toward a table with screen-printed t-shirts stacked on it. He let go to pick up one with a picture of a blue and green mountain range studded with pine trees. “Do you make these yourself?” he asked the man behind the table.

“Me and my wife.” He waved a printed card with artwork and website information at Matthew. “We do custom orders, too.”

“These would make great prizes for the raffle to raise money for Sunrise Days.” He folded the mountain t-shirt and cast aglance my way. “That’s the charity camping thing I do with Prism House.” He reached for a tee with a sunrise print next.

We’d talked about charity work and Sunshine Days before, but he hadn’t mentioned a fundraiser. My mind cast back to the charity gala he attended with me at the start of our contract. The thousand-dollar watches and cruise bookings, the Eclipse 6 tickets and backstage passes. Here he was buying twenty-dollar t-shirts at a flea market to raffle off to support LGBTQ+ youth in one little city. His generosity impressed me. It didn’t take much to give back and support our rainbow community, but every effort was worth it. He made me want to do more.

“Maybe I could—” Before I had the chance to offer other raffle prizes for the cause, a trio of teens stopped in the middle of the path and spun around to stare at us.

One with a purple streak in his hair gaped at Matthew. “You work with Prism House?”

“I volunteer,” he said with his signature smile. “I do a lot of the outdoor recreation and survival in the wilderness stuff.”

The young men crowded closer and gushed about the place and events they’d attended in the past. Halfway through a comment about the LGBTQ+ center’s current fundraiser for expansion, the shortest of the three turned in my direction. His mouth dropped open and his brown eyes shot wide.

“Oh my gosh,” he whispered. “You’re Cole Gilliam.”

The other two abandoned their chat with Matthew and turned in my direction. The man behind the sales table did, too, but his furrowed brow and frown clearly showed he had no clue who I was. The teens pushed closer and started peppering me with questions about Eclipse 6.

“Is it true that Mav and Dylan—”

“Wasn’t it wild when CJ had to drag—”

“Is Eclipse doing a show here this year?”

“Can we get a selfie?”

Their excitement and growing volume had other people glancing over to see what the commotion was about. I shot a look at Matthew, who frowned as if he wanted to step in and protect me from the attention but wasn’t quite sure if he should say anything.

I put on my public relations smile. “You can find all the information about the band and tour dates on their website. Thanks for being fans, but we’d really like to get back to—”

The purple streaked one turned back to Matthew. I could see when he put two and two together. “Holy shit!” he barked. “OMG, guys. This is Matthew! You guys are so cute together!”

The shortest one actually squealed as they turned their attention on my boyfriend. Fake boyfriend. It was my turn to want to protect him from all the questions and comments flying out of their mouths. They were so happy the rumors weren’t true. They loved the adorable pics of us eating ice cream together. They couldn’t believe that people could be so cruel to suggest I was faking my sexuality. And, holy shit, but Matthewwasas ruggedly handsome as everyone claimed. It wasn’t all photoshop.

He tried to keep his model smile in place and responded to most of their comments, but I could see the concern in his eyes when they snapped to mine. One of his thick arms curled around my waist, and his head tipped toward mine as the group crowded in front of us to snap a few selfies with their phones held high.

I stepped away after a couple minutes of posing. “Thank you so much, but we’d like to get back to our shopping trip. Sign up for Matthew’s events at Prism House and keep following Eclipse 6. Thank you.” I’d learned to diffuse limited fan interactions over the years, but most of those focused on the band itself, not me, and certainly not whoever I was with at the time. The lackof personal attention was something that my dates weren’t very impressed with in the past, to tell the truth.

Matthew looked a bit overwhelmed. He turned back to the table, quickly selected half a dozen t-shirts, and paid the man who now stared at both of us through narrowed eyes. “Thank you. They’re really great work.” After a quick glance in both directions, he lowered his voice. “Want to get out of here?”

I slipped my hand back into his and turned toward the parking lot. We passed the trio of wide-eyed teens, who chattered excitedly and pulled out their phones to snap more pictures, but I didn’t slow down or look their way.

Back at the SUV, Matthew passed the keys to me and climbed into the passenger seat. “Is it always like that? I mean… no one swarmed you at the ice cream stand or the canoe place.”

“It’s not usually like that at all when I’m not with the band.” I shot a smile in his direction. “They seemed much more interested in you.”

---