Page 49 of Sweet Caroline
I only groan in response, then straighten and blink hard, begging my brain to wake up.
“Last night not go great, or what?” He rips off a bite of cinnamon roll, then pops it in his mouth.
“Nah, it was… fine.”
Fine doesn’t even come close to describing it. Last night had swung wildly between catastrophic and incredible, but I’m not really sure how to explain or what I should share. Memories hit me in quick succession: Caroline glittering and perfect at the fundraiser, fizzing champagne bubbles, Pete’s ruddy hand gripping my arm, Caroline wearing my hoodie. Those lips. Her body pressed against mine.Those fucking lips.Desperately jacking off into my shirt in the truck like I was—Shit!I forgot to put the laundry in the dryer.Fuck my life.
I clear my throat, willing the images away. “You, uh, gonna need that tux back anytime soon?”
Gus frowns. “What? Why? What’d you do to my fucking tux?”
“No, man.” I wave him off. “Nothing like that. I just might need to borrow it for longer.” Then my memory jogs. “Hey, wait, why do you own a tuxedo, anyway?”
“Calendars,” he says simply around his bite.
I laugh. “What, like, you’re a model now?”
“It’s for charity, man! Fuck off.” He shakes his head, then takes a sip of his coffee. “Anyway, what do you need it for? You seeing this girl again?” When I don’t argue, he adds, “Thought it was a one-off thing.”
I give him a long look. “Well, it was supposed to be.”
“What? C’mon, what’d I miss here?”
“Alright, the nutshell version is she needs a fake boyfriend for the next few weeks, so I’m gonna keep helping her out.”
He smooths down his mustache and straightens slowly, like he’s not sure what to make of this.
Well, buddy, that makes two of us.
“Yeah, think I’m gonna need the non-nutshell version,” he says as a couple of young firefighters file into thekitchen and head for the fridge. Martinez, I think her name is, and a new one I haven’t met.
“Okay, but not here.” I glance around, nervous about being overheard.
“Why are you being cagey?” He tilts his head toward the kitchen and leans in. “You think the rookie over there is gonna rat you out to the tabloids?”
“I dunno!”
“Well, you can’t bring me gossip snackies and then refuse to give me the gossip.” When I hesitate again, he sighs, pulling out the entire cinnamon roll. “Fine. Just gonna eat this while I reevaluate our friendship.”
“Okay,” I say with a grimace. “But I’m avoiding eye contact with you while you eat it.”
He frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Let’s just say I know where you got that nickname in college andreallywish I didn’t.” I can’t bring myself to sayCunnilinGusout loud.
He barks a laugh, then looks thoughtful for a moment before he says, “Never had any complaints.”
“Okay,” I say, pushing up to leave. “Just remembered I gotta water my cactus.”
“Aw, c’mon!” he grabs my arm and yanks me back into my seat. Craning his neck toward the others, he calls out, “Martinez, Abernathy, can you give us a minute?”
A minute turnsinto about twenty when I’m finally done with the word vomit.
Gus shakes his head and stuffs the last piece of cinnamon roll in his mouth, then sucks the icing off his thumb. “I don’t like this for you,” he mumbles around his bite.
“No shit.” I take my last sip of coffee and chuck the to-go cup into a nearby garbage can. “I step outside my comfort zone foronenight and I get fucking blackmailed?”
“You don’t need this stress.”
