Page 89 of Boyfriend Material
I think I was blushing. “I don’t know. It’s just got this domestic bliss vibe to it that I find, um, nice?”
“I see.”
“And, honestly,” I admitted, “I never imagined anyone would actually make it for me.”
He brushed the hair out of my eyes almost absentmindedly. “You know, you’re sometimes very sweet.”
“I…”Fuck.I didn’t know what to do with myself. “All right, all right. I’m getting up.”
Forty minutes later, with me reluctantly showered but full of French toast, we were on the road, bound for Lancashire. And I was slowly coming to terms with the fact that Oliver and I had signed up to take a four-hour car journey together. Or rather, Oliver had signed up to spend four hours driving me to see my dad in a car he was renting. And, once again, I was having to face up to the fact that he was taking this fake boyfriend gig way more seriously than any actual boyfriend I’d ever had.
“Um.” I squirmed. “Thanks for doing this. I think in my head Lancashire wasn’t quite this…far.”
“Well, I did encourage you to reach out to your father, so I suppose I really brought this on myself.”
“I know I’ve barely met the guy, but this feels so typical of him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know. Making a big song and dance about wanting to reconnect and then dragging me all the way to Lancashire to do it. I mean, what if I didn’t have a fake boyfriend who could drive? This’d be crap.”
“Thankfully, you do have a fake boyfriend who can drive.”
I cast him a sidelong glance. “I know. And I’d offer to make it up to you, but you keep turning me down.”
“Just an observation, Lucien. There are other ways to make things up to people than sex.”
“So you say. I remain sceptical.”
He gave a little cough. “How are you feeling about seeing your father?”
“Inconvenienced.”
And, ever the epitome of tact, Oliver didn’t push it. “Would you mind if I put on a podcast?” he asked.
Obviously Oliver was a podcast person. “Okay, but if it’s a TED Talk or theNew Yorkerfiction podcast, I’m walking to Lancashire.”
“What’s wrong with theNew Yorkerfiction podcast?”
“It’s theNew Yorkerfiction podcast.”
He plugged his phone into the dock, and the car filled up with Twilight-Zoney music and the weirdly sonorous voice of an American man.
“Okay,” I told him, “can we addThis American Lifeto the no-fucking-way list?”
“Welcome to Night Vale,” said the weirdly sonorous American man.
I stared at Oliver’s serene profile. “What is happening?”
“It’sWelcome to Night Vale.”
“Yeah, I got that from the guy using the words ‘welcome to Night Vale.’ Why are you listening to it?”
He gave a little shrug. “I like it?”
“I figured that on account of you choosing to play it in the car for what will be a four-hour journey. I just didn’t think it was the kind of thing you’d even have heard of.”
“Clearly I have hidden depths. Also I’m rather invested in Cecil and Carlos.”
