Page 99 of Faking It Right
“There’s a wall.” Jagger shrugged, completely unashamed. “But now I can indulge in my newfound freedom. I’ve got the whole place to myself.”
“Are you getting a replacement roommate?” Fenway asked, popping open another beer.
Jagger groaned. “Ugh, I hope not. I’d love to turn his room into a second closet. Do you know how cramped my wardrobe situation is? I’ve been living like a peasant.”
“A second closet?” Bryce perked up, his expression turning wistful. “That’s my ultimate dream.”
“You’d need more than two closets for all your clothes,” Gage pointed out. “You’d need at least one just for your shoes.”
“Don’t tease me with such beautiful fantasies,” Bryce swooned, pressing a hand to his chest.
“The real question,” Senna interjected, “is what are you going to do with all that extra space, Jagger? Because we all know it’s not just going to be storage.”
Jagger’s smile turned wolfish. “I’ve already drafted a list of potential christening activities for every surface in the apartment.”
“Gross,” Fenway laughed, tossing a wadded-up napkin at him.
“What?” Jagger raised his hands in surrender. “It’s not my fault I’ve suddenly been blessed with all this freedom. It would be a crime not to take advantage of it.”
“You could always get a pet instead,” Gage suggested. “A dog would be good company.”
Jagger snorted. “Why get a dog when I have plenty of men who come when I call? The only difference is my pets beg with their asses in the air, and their ‘treats’ come from a very different kind of bone.”
After everyone finished groaning, Harley pivoted. “And on that disturbing note, how was everyone else’s break?”
Fenway took a cookie. “Mine was the traditional festival of denial, where my parents gifted me Red Sox tickets for a pilgrimage to my namesake park. When I reminded them I’d rather watch paint dry than baseball, my dad said, ‘But these aregoodseats, son.’ As if my problem all along was just the viewing angle.”
“Let me guess, he threw in another jersey to sweeten the deal?” Gage asked.
Fenway shook his head. “Nope, he switched it up with a snow globe for some inexplicable reason. At this point, I’m convinced they believe if they hurl enough baseball merchandise at me, I’ll suddenly wake up one day understanding what a ground rule double is.”
“They’re still disappointed you’re refusing to live up to your name?” Harley asked with a grin.
Fenway munched on his cookie. “Naturally. I’m pretty sure they have a shrine to David Ortiz in the basement, where they pray nightly for their son to develop an interest in America’s favorite pastime.”
I tried to find a bright side. “At least they’re consistent.”
“Consistent like a trauma response,” Fenway snorted. “My dad spent two hours trying to explain the infield fly rule to me.I pretended I thought baseball was played with a shuttlecock just to watch his eye twitch. Pretty sure he’s still having heart palpitations from me asking if Tom Brady was a good pitcher.”
“It’s a miracle your father lived to tell the tale,” Bryce joked.
Fenway dusted the cookie crumbs off his hands. “I’ve donated so much Red Sox stuff to our local thrift store that they have a whole section for all my family’s denial merchandise. The employees probably suspect I’m running some kind of underground baseball memorabilia laundering operation. But the owner’s a die-hard fan, so he gives me a free pass because he loves getting first dibs on the goods.”
“You really should be selling that shit and making money,” Gage pointed out.
Fenway waved it away. “That’s too much hassle. Plus, it’d mean dealing with more Red Sox fans. I’d rather French-kiss a running wood chipper, thanks.”
As the laughter died down, Bryce made a grand pronouncement with a wicked grin. “Well, my break was quite enlightening. I spent it with a visiting professor from an Ivy League who taught me things that definitely aren’t on the syllabus.”
“You’re going to get someone fired one of these days,” Gage predicted.
“Only if they’re not discreet,” Bryce countered. “And trust me, Professor Hottie McFuckMe can keep a secret.”
“What about you two?” Senna asked, glancing between Harley and me. “How did things go at home?”
It was the perfect opening. I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
Harley saved me from my sudden speechlessness. “It was entertaining. Ryker’s mom tried to set him up with a woman who claimed they were soul mates reincarnated through hundreds of lifetimes.”
