Page 21 of Signed, I'm Yours!
Where on earth does he get off thinking he can pass me off as his boyfriend? As if I would be caught dead anywhere near him.
I mean, sure, he’s attractive, and sure, he’s just my type—dark, handsome, with a bear-bod I’d love to explore…with my tongue. But me, his boyfriend? Bitch, please.
“Your boyfriend? I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” The guy’s voice goes up an octave, and it startles me. When I look at him, he appears genuinely heartbroken. “Why didn’t you tell me? We’ve been partners for so long. Did you think I wouldn’t approve?”
“No! No, I didn’t think that, but—” Jack starts.
“I mean, I know you’ve dated girls in the past. Was that for show because you didn’t think I could take it?”
Somehow, I knew Jack was straight. The good ones always are. Or at least the ones I find attractive.
Oh well. What can you do?
“I mean, give me a break. I’m old. I’m not a bigot.”
I roll my eyes as discreetly as I can. Of course he’d say that. No one is a bigot until they come face to face with a femme guy who pushes all their toxic masculinity buttons, and then words like “gross,” “disgusting,” and “freak” are thrown around.
Although, to be fair, this guy hasn’t given me the once-over. Yet.
The guy extends his hand to me, and it takes me a few moments to realize he wants to shake my hand.
“I’m Bob. Bob White. Nice to meet you.”
I choke down a laugh because what else would his name be and shake his hand.
“Seojun Bae. Nice to meet you too.”
Oh shit.
Did I just tell him my real name? What the fuck? Why would I do that? I’ve never given up my real name. Like, ever. What the hell did I just do? Now, when this is all over, they might remember me, and even worse, they might find me.
I don’t want to give up my beauty of an apartment. Agh!
Stupid, stupid Seojun.
“Seojun, did you say? Korean?”
“Yep.” I groan, fighting the urge to slap my face hard.
“Well, nice of you to drop by. Happy here hasn’t brought anyone over.”
I grimace.
So these people can bring family and friends into the building? What’s that about? I thought this was a top-secret government facility. Do all these people and their families know what kind of disgusting work they do here? Rounding up people who are different and disappearing them?
“Hang on. Did you just say Happy?” I ask.
Bob glances from me to Jack and back to me again, laughing.
“Do you not know his nickname? How is that possible?”
“He has a nickname?”
“Sure does.”
“And it’s Happy?”
Bob gives me his most WTF-esque hand gesture and points at his partner.
