by Jayce Ellis
Deion nodded, seeming to have been momentarily rendered silent. Carlton launched into both of their professions, needing to show they were financially able to care for Olivia, and Ms. Smith-Reis nodded and hummed appropriately.
“Now, how long have you guys just not been around anyone else?”
Deion’s grip on him tightened, and for a moment, Carlton considered bluffing, continuing the fantasy of his sexual prowess. But Deion hadn’t bolted, or done anything to shatter the illusion the social worker had created for herself. But Carlton talked a good game, he knew that. And he knew Deion hadn’t been in a relationship, slept with anyone, for years. Thing was, neither had he. He played it off like he did, but the reality was, no one had sparked a bit of interest in him for almost a decade, and he had no reason to lie about it.
“Honestly? I’d say it’s been six or seven years for me.”
He didn’t miss that sharp inhale of breath, or the way Deion’s eyes wandered over him, half in disbelief, half in awe. Then Deion squeezed his hand again and stood, inclining his head to Ms. Smith-Reis. “I promised Olivia I’d grab her some water. I’ll be right back, if that’s okay?”
She nodded, then watched his retreating back before turning to Carlton. “He doesn’t talk much, does he?”
Carlton thought quick. “He’s probably just a bit surprised. Neither of us had really expected him to be part of the interview process since he’s not formally on the petition.”
He didn’t have a chance to say more before Deion strolled back out, looking ten times calmer than he had before. He retook his seat and smiled at Ms. Smith-Reis. “Sorry about that. You caught me off guard earlier. I’m Deion Jones, which I know I already told you. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Ms. Smith-Reis beamed at him. “The pleasure is mine. I’m Evangelyn Smith-Reis, but you can call me Evangelyn.”
She hadn’t said that to Carlton. And he wanted to nudge Deion in the side. People always gravitated to him. Something about him made people comfortable. Carlton knew that from experience.
“Thank you, Evangelyn, especially for coming on such short notice,” Deion said, and yep, he’d already won her over, if the soft smile was any indication. “What questions can I answer for you?”
She flipped through her tablet and looked up at him. “What are your plans regarding your relationship to Mr. Monroe, and particularly how it relates to his niece?”
Deion got comfortable and laid a hand over Carlton’s knee. That felt way better than it should. “Carlton had already asked me to spend my sabbatical here, so I’d planned to be here through December anyway. I adore Olivia and would love to see Carlton caring for her. I don’t think it hurts our relationship at all. If anything, I think it strengthens it, brings us together.”
“So you’re not concerned about competing for Carlton’s attention?”
Deion laughed. “I met Carlton when we were nineteen. I’ve always competed for his attention.”
“Shut up,” Carlton muttered, but Evangelyn laughed.
“It’s one of those relationships, is it?”
“Absolutely. But,” Deion said earnestly, leaning forward on the couch, “there’s no one I think is better suited for this, and no one I would rather go through this with than him.”
Evangelyn smiled. “Are you willing to take on part of that responsibility, of rearing a child?”
“If things go further between me and Carlton, I would have no problem adopting Olivia myself.”
Carlton wanted to kiss him. Wanted to haul Deion into his arms until his thick thighs straddled Carlton’s, and kiss the man senseless. He smiled instead, laying his hand on top of Deion’s, sharing an indecipherable look with his best friend, while Evangelyn nodded approvingly.
“That’s excellent. Exactly what I wanted to hear. Now, is Olivia available for me to talk to her?”
“Of course.” Carlton walked her down the hall and rapped on Olivia’s door. At the tentative, slightly nervous “come in,” he pushed the door open and led Evangelyn inside. “Ollie, this is Evangelyn Smith-Reis. She’s going to ask you a couple questions, okay?”
“Okay, Uncle C.”
Carlton closed the door behind him and walked back up front. Deion was pacing in front of the couch. “What the hell just happened?” he hissed, and Carlton threw his hands up.
“I don’t even know. I...she leapt to that conclusion and I rolled with it.” He stopped and frowned. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
One side of Deion’s mouth tipped up in a grin, and he wouldn’t meet Carlton’s eyes. “She seemed so down for the entire thing, I didn’t want to ruin it.”
Carlton stepped into him, and Deion’s eyes darkened. He laid a hand on Carlton’s waist, hooking a finger into his belt loop.
“Thank you,” Carlton murmured. “Can we go with this? Just until everything is settled? If I say something now—”
Deion laid a finger over his lips. “I know. But we’re going to have a conversation about this. A real one.”
Carlton could only nod. All these years, Deion had always been receptive to Carlton’s touch, but never the aggressor. Now the roles had flipped and he couldn’t tell if he liked it or freaking loved it, but he knew Deion’s finger on his lips stole his breath and words. He touched Carlton much like he imagined Deion would touch a lover, firm, expectant, maybe a little impatient, and Carlton’s mind spiraled for a moment before he remembered where he was, who was there, and the stakes at play. God, Deion could have told Evangelyn she was mistaken, that he wasn’t sticking around, and that he was absolutely a revolving door of a man. No, he wouldn’t have said the last thing, but no doubt Carlton owed him, big-time. “So we’re good? You’ll go along with it for now?”
Deion stepped back and ran his eyes over Carlton’s frame. He could barely suppress his shudder. “Oh, I’m going to go along with it. You want to make-believe we’re together? I’m down for that.”
Carlton swallowed. Somehow, he wasn’t sure he knew what he’d just gotten himself into.
Chapter Ten
Deion kept his mass of emotions tightly under wraps until Evangelyn left. She told them she’d be back in a few weeks, and would follow up with any questions in the interim. Upon asking, Deion had given her his number as well, since he was the supposed romantic partner of the person adopting Olivia. Boy, wasn’t that a trip?
“Can we have pizza tonight?” Olivia asked once they were alone. “I kind of feel like I need some comfort food.”
“God, pizza sounds delicious,” Deion said.
Next to him, too close for anything resembling comfort, Carlton chuckled. “Agreed. Everything? Or meat lovers?”
“Or...one of each?” Olivia’s eyes were pleading and hopeful and smack full of manipulation.
Carlton laughed, but nodded. “Both it is.”
Olivia fist pumped, then darted back to her room. Deion turned to Carlton. “Bedroom. Now.”
Carlton followed him, closing the door with a huff. “Normally when a guy invites me back to their bedroom, I’m going to get lucky. Somehow, I don’t think that’s the case here.”
Deion exhaled, all his irritation fleeing in the blink of an eye. “Carlton, please. Not now.”
Carlton was in front of him in a minute, cupping his face in both hands. “Deion, man, I’m sorry. I should’ve come clean, but I panicked. She made it sound like I wouldn’t get her if I was single and I didn’t know what to do.” He let go and stepped back, his shoulders drooping. “Fuck. I need to call her back. Or call Lawrence. Something.”
In the background, Deion heard emotional distance laughing its fool head off, right next to Ma tsking at him. So plodding and methodical, except when it came to Carlton. Because the reality was, he’d already told Carlton he’d play this charade, and he’d do anything to take that forlorn look off his friend’s face now. “I already said I’m d
oing this, and I meant it. How long do I need to stay? How do we explain this to Olivia? She’s already asked about our relationship and we said we weren’t together.”
“Yeah.” Carlton rubbed his hands against his pants, and even in the middle of his inner turmoil, he couldn’t help but notice how the movement strained the fabric against his thighs. He cleared his throat and Deion looked up. Shit, he’d been staring. Again. Carlton grinned, just a little thing that tipped the side of his lips up, then kept talking. “I don’t think we can hide it from her. She’s too smart for that. But—” he paused and took a deep breath “—I also think if we’re going to make it legit for Ms. Smith-Reis, we need to make it more than just something we do when she’s around.”
Deion refused to believe what his heart wanted him to believe. Not a chance.
Words. Use your words. “What are you saying, Carlton?”
Carlton crinkled his nose. “I don’t know if I know. Maybe we need to step it up, act like we’re engaged or something?”
Jesus. “You want to go from friends to engaged?” Deion turned away and paced, pulling his hands through his locs. He didn’t stop until Carlton blocked his path, then he let his hands fall. “I’m just—we never had that conversation, you know? We never really sat down and talked about anything, and now we’ve got a social worker thinking we’re together, and I don’t know what to do with that. But engagement is a step too far, especially since we told her it’d only been a few months.”
“You’re right about the engagement, and...yeah. We were supposed to talk and I kept putting you off, and Ollie showed up and there’s been no time for it since then.”
“I’m not blaming you for any of that.”
“I know,” Carlton said, his hand up. “I know you’re not. But you’re right. I took advantage of a situation, because I wanted you to stay a little longer.”
“Why?” God, why? If Carlton wasn’t interested in him, why on god’s green earth was he pushing this narrative?
“Because everything is better with you. I’m not as overwhelmed when I know you’re here. Even without Ollie or Trey or whatever, coming home and knowing you’d be waiting made the days smoother. I didn’t want to lose that.”
Deion sat at the foot of the bed. Something was missing here. “I’d already said I’d stick around.” Carlton looked at him and nodded, but didn’t offer anything more. They sat there in silence for a few seconds, then understanding dawned. “You wanted to make sure I couldn’t change my mind, and she gave you the best possible excuse.”
Carlton groaned, flicking out his tongue over his lower lip. “Does that make me a horrible person?”
“No.” If Deion was honest, he thrilled at the thought Carlton wanted him to stay so much. “But if we’re doing this, it needs to be legit. Full-time. It has to be something Olivia, even Trey, can believe. We’re not playing the friend thing six days a week and being boo’d up on the seventh.”
Carlton looked at him, tilted his head to the side, and raised a brow. “What are you saying, Deion?”
“That if we’re playing like we’re together, we need to be together. In and out of this house.”
“Ahh. So no more sleeping on the couch?”
Deion swallowed. That’d been his thought, but hearing it said out loud gave him a second’s pause. Was he doing this? Another breath, and he had his answer. Yes. Yes, he was. “Not if we’re going to make this real. I need to at least sleep in the room.”
“On the bed.”
Deion shrugged, though his stomach had engaged in a full cheerleading routine about the prospect of being in Carlton’s bed. “Hell, I can sleep on the floor for a while. Not like I haven’t done it before.”
“Not a chance in hell. You sleep in my room, you sleep in my bed.”
Deion failed to hold back his sharp inhale, and felt Carlton’s soft chuckle before he slid closer.
“You like that idea?” Carlton leaned into him, his voice low and ghosting across Deion’s neck.
He shoved him away and laughed. “Fuck you.”
“If we’re going to make people believe this is real, I damn sure will.”
Deion straightened. He must have misheard. Surely Carlton hadn’t said that. Didn’t mean that. “What’d you say?” No, his heart wasn’t racing, waiting for an answer. Not even a little bit.
But Carlton rolled his eyes, the asshole. “Don’t pretend. You know exactly what I’m talking about. If we’re going to have a fake relationship that needs to be real, we need to be real.” He looked Deion up and down, a tiny grin gracing his face. “In all ways.”
Something about the way he said that, the way he looked Deion up and down like he was a snack, gave him pause. “Meaning what, exactly?”
He crinkled his nose and gave a half shrug, but wouldn’t look at him. “Meaning maybe we can revisit college.”
Deion scoffed. “You’re talking about sex? Please. You don’t want to fuck me.”
“That’s a goddamn lie and you know it.”
Actually, he hadn’t known it, he’d had no clue, and now the cheerleaders in his stomach were going all out. The grand prize was a lock. “I don’t want a pity fuck,” he said, his words coming out more broken than he’d intended.
“Pity? I guarantee you I have none.” Carlton turned to face him, to give him nowhere to look except in Carlton’s eyes. “Deion, if you’re even remotely worried I’m fucking you out of sympathy, I promise you that’s not the case. That is, if we’re being honest, the last thing you need to worry about.”
Deion blew out a breath. It was maybe a little ridiculous, but he’d needed that reassurance. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure he believed it. He shored up his confidence. “So, what, we’re going to pretend to be in a relationship and fuck each other? Honestly, sounds like the best of both worlds to me.” He wasn’t sure what was flimsier—the excuses they were making to have sex now, or the ones they’d made to refrain from it for so long. They were honestly a bit ridiculous.
Carlton cocked his head and Deion forced his attention back to the present. “How do you figure?”
It took him a second to remember what they’d been talking about, then he smiled. “We both get something out of this,” he said. “You get the adoption process with a partner, a full one who supports you and will help you and will do everything he can to ensure nothing interferes with it.”
“And what do you get?” Carlton asked, crossing his arms.
“I get you.”
* * *
Carlton wasn’t sure whether he was anticipating or dreading tonight. Him, and Deion, together? It was a pipe dream, possibly the worst thing he could do, but he wanted it more than his next breath. And maybe that was the real reason he hadn’t tried to correct Evangelyn’s assumptions about them. Maybe this was the way to make Deion stay.
Dinner was a subdued affair, Olivia snagging a few pieces of each kind of pizza and hurrying off to her bedroom, leaving him and Deion alone in the living room. Part of him wanted to suggest a movie, something, anything to delay the moment when Deion came to his bedroom—to his bed—for the first time in twenty years.
“Nervous?”
Carlton shook his head, too damn quickly, and the two beers he’d had earlier warned him against doing that again. “No, not nervous. Just...”
“Nervous,” Deion finished with a small laugh. “We don’t have to do this, you know. I’m pretty sure twenty years of friendship gives us enough to play make-believe without the sex.”
“I want the sex.”
Deion looked like that actually surprised him, and, to be fair, the forcefulness with which he’d said it kind of surprised Carlton ‘oo. He’d fantasized about Deion more this visit than at any time he could remember. His hands in Deion’s hair. Deion’s mouth on him. Yeah, he definitely wanted the sex, but his overriding concern to not jeopardize their friendship nor
mally put the brakes on his mouth. Apparently that line had been cut.
They sat in silence for a while, then Deion rose and stretched. “I meant what I said. We definitely don’t have to do anything, but I’m beat. I’m gonna go lay down. Come in whenever you’re ready.”
He bent down and pressed his lips to Carlton’s, softly, tentatively, like he feared rejection. He pulled away before Carlton could deepen the contact, then winked at him and waved, taking off down the hall. And, shit. Now Carlton was horny.
He clicked off the TV and the lights, then sucked in a deep breath before crossing the room and opening his bedroom door.
Deion sat at the side of the bed nearest the door, and looked up as Carlton entered. “You decided to come in.” He almost sounded surprised. “I was sure you were gonna ‘fall asleep’ on the couch.”
Carlton snorted. The thought hadn’t entered his mind. He shut the door and leaned against it, crossing his ankles and his arms. “I have every intention of sleeping in my own bed. You have a problem with that?”
“Not at all. Just want you to be sure.”
He nodded, grateful for his friend’s unyielding care and concern. “I’m sure.”
Deion grinned then, and Carlton saw for the first time that he wasn’t the only one worried, nervous about what was about to happen. Deion had told him he loved him. Deion had told him that love was the reason he couldn’t stick around. That love was the reason he couldn’t live here. What would that love feel like underneath him, calming him, wanting him?
Maybe it was unfair. Lord knew it was uncouth, but Carlton didn’t try to hide the way his dick thickened at the thought.
Deion looked down at him and his eyes widened before he dipped his head. He shook it quickly, like he couldn’t quite believe Carlton really wanted this. “You know you don’t have to do this, right?”
“Say that again and I’m going to think you don’t want me.”
Deion’s eyes darkened, and he crossed the room in record time. “Wanting you has never been an issue,” he said. “Never. Don’t doubt that for a moment.”