Page 49 of Faking It Right
“That’s the beauty of it all. When your body’s screaming ‘yes,’ your brain usually shuts the hell up. Trust me, good sex has cured more existential crises than therapy ever has.” Sawyer’s expression turned thoughtful. She leaned against the kitchen counter, studying me with her perceptive eyes that had always seen through my bullshit. “What’s your heart telling you, Ryker? That’s the real question.”
I snorted, crossing my arms. “I’m feeling things that aren’t even on the emotional menu. Like, I ordered the Straight Guy Specialwith a side of Just Bros Being Bros sauce for dipping and got served a Bisexual Epiphany with a dick amuse-bouche.”
Sawyer’s lips quirked in amusement. “So you’re saying you ordered the Feelings BLT—the Bromance Lust Transformation—and instead, you ended up with Schrödinger’s Sexuality, where you’re both straight and not straight until Harley comes inside you?”
I tried not to die of humiliation. “Something like that.”
The kitchen fell silent, punctuated by the distant sounds of the movie playing in the living room. I could hear Harley’s laughter, followed by Mom’s delighted response as akaboomrattled the house, courtesy of the powerful subwoofers in their sound system.
Seconds stretched into a full minute as Sawyer waited for me to sort through the tangle of emotions I’d been avoiding.
“I want to see where it goes,” I finally admitted. Clearing my throat, I forced myself to continue. “With Harley. For real.”
The words hung in the air, terrifying in their naked honesty. I had never uttered them out loud before, barely allowed myself to entertain the thought.
“But what about Mom and Dad?” I continued, anxiety creeping into my voice. “We told them we’ve been together for a while now. It’ll be a disaster if I admit everything was fake.” I ran a hand through my hair, tugging at the ends in frustration. “They’ll be disappointed or rightfully pissed that we lied to them. Or both.”
The possibility of hurting my parents made my stomach churn. For all their quirks and embarrassing moments, they had alwaysbeen my biggest cheerleaders. The idea of betraying that trust nauseated me.
Sawyer placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Are you kidding? They’ll be over the moon that you’re dating Harley for real,” she said with unwavering certainty. “Mom’s been trying to set you two up for years. She won’t care about the deception when she’ll be too busy planning your wedding.”
“But—”
Sawyer cut me off. “Trust me, Mom will think it’s the most charming meet-cute ever. ‘Oh, my precious biscuit pretended to date the man of his dreams to avoid my matchmaking and then fell in love for real! How romantic!’” Her impression of our mother was spot-on, complete with dramatic hand gestures.
Despite my anxiety, I couldn’t help but chuckle. It sounded exactly like something Mom would say.
“I suspect setting you up on so many shitty dates is her trying to push you into Harley’s arms.”
My jaw dropped. “She wouldn’t!”
Sawyer squeezed my shoulder. “Besides, if I had to guess, Mom’s already figured it out, anyway.”
I blanched at the possibility. “What? How?”
Her expression told me how stupid she thought my question was. “Because she’s Mom. She notices everything, especially about her kids. And she’s been watching you two like a hawk since you arrived.”
All the awkward moments, the hesitations, the times I’d been caught staring at Harley with confusion written all over my facereplayed in my mind. If Mom had picked up on those, then she likely would have figured out our charade.
But as my panic subsided, relief washed over me. If Sawyer was right, then the pressure of maintaining the lie was already gone. Mom knew, and she was still delighted about me and Harley.
“You really think she knows?” I asked.
“Oh, absolutely. And she’s clearly giddy about it. So stop worrying about disappointing her and start figuring out what you actually want.”
I pulled her into a tight hug, squeezing her as if I could somehow transfer my gratitude through sheer force. She let out a surprised squeak before hugging me back.
“Thanks,” I murmured into her hair. “You always know what to say.”
She rubbed my back as she returned the embrace. “That’s what big sisters are for.”
“For solving my sexual identity crisis while Mom and Dad watch shit explode in the next room?” I snorted, making her laugh. “Thanks. I’ve been spiraling over this for days, and you made it all seem less like a black hole of doom.”
Sawyer’s teasing glint softened into genuine warmth. She squeezed my arm. “I’m proud of you, you know that? It takes guts to embrace something that flips everything you thought you knew about yourself on its head. And if it helps, I think you and Harley are perfect together.”
The unexpected praise made my throat tighten. Sawyer and I didn’t indulge in emotional heart-to-hearts often, considering our relationship was built on a foundation of merciless teasingand sporadic acts of begrudging kindness. The vulnerability between us felt rare and precious.
“Thanks,” I managed. “That means a lot.”
