All For Show: A Fake Boyfriend Gay Romance

by Rachel Kane

  I honestly didn’t know what to do. Why couldn’t I be more confident in what I was saying? Why couldn’t I be like Rhody, and just drag him out of here?

  “I promise, I’m not acting weird,” I said. “I think he’s trying to exert some control over you right now, and I think he’s doing it because he doesn’t want you to be in a relationship. He’s jealous, he’s angry, and his instinct is to start manipulating people when he feels like that.”

  “I’m going to stop you right there, Nat. I understand you’ve got some strong feelings about this. I get that. We’ve just found ourselves in something really nice, something exciting, and all of a sudden you feel like it’s on pause because I’ve got to spend some time with my ex. But you can’t talk about Harris being a manipulator.”

  “You said yourself that he--”

  “Stop. You don’t know him. You’re justified in feeling weird--god knows I do too. But don’t insult someone who has a special place in my life, okay?”

  “He’s your ex, not your--”

  “Don’t tell me what he is to me! You don’t know, okay? When we broke up, I nearly lost everything. He could have ignored me, could have gotten on with his life completely separate from me, and he would’ve had every right to do that. Instead, he found me my apartment. He helped me keep my job. He looked after me, even when things were tense and awkward between us. I owe him for that. He may be my ex, but he’s also one of my best friends, and I’m not going to abandon him when he needs me.”

  I suddenly thought of Sergio’s sculptures. Harris was like one of those. From my perspective, he looked like a master manipulator, looking to get his claws into Owen. From Owen’s perspective, he was a friend who needed help. The two different visions couldn’t possibly be reconciled.

  My shoulders slumped. I knew I had lost this battle. Worse, the way Owen was looking at me, I knew I’d crossed a line with him.

  “Okay,” I said, defeated. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not going to be here forever. We’ll still have all afternoon together.”

  “It’s fine. Maybe I’ll go into town for a while.”

  He looked at me closely. “Wow, this has really affected you, hasn’t it? You look so shaken. Don’t look like that, please, Nat? I promise you everything’s okay.”

  “I’m really sorry,” I said. “I have no right to intrude in your friendships. I don’t even know you, not really.”

  “Don’t do that!”

  “But it’s true, isn’t it? I can’t just go barging into your life like this, knocking stuff over. It was clumsy of me. Maybe I am jealous, after all. Maybe that’s all it is.”

  It wasn’t. But I found myself saying it, and saying it made me wonder if it was true.

  I didn’t expect that he would take me into his arms. I didn’t expect how closely he would pull me in. “Nat,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the breaking waves. “Come on now. Don’t you know how special you are to me?”

  “Am I?”

  “Don’t be dense. You know you are. This stupid break-up of theirs doesn’t change that.”

  I gave him a sad smile. “So you still like me even though I’m accusing your friend of horrible intentions?”

  “As awkward as it is, I’m glad to have you looking out for me.”

  “It is pretty awkward.”

  He kissed me then, just a soft, brief thing, but held me so close I could barely breathe. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “No, no, you stay and take care of Harris.”

  “Absolutely not. You’re right. I mean, not right about everything. Actually, you’re wrong about 85% of it. But you’re right that we should go. It’s unfair to you, to make you wait around while I baby Harris, especially since this is your special day.”

  “It’s just a kitchen,” I said.

  “Oh, now who is being manipulative? You quit that. Come on, let’s tell Harris goodbye.”

  15

  Owen: Stay The Night

  It felt weird to leave Harris all alone. I didn’t like this feeling of being torn between two people. I wasn’t mad or anything, just...uncomfortable.

  My feelings for Nat were pretty clear, I thought. We hadn’t yet had a chance to sit down and have one of those long, sappy conversations about our feelings, but we were on the same page. This was something we were both interested in, it felt really good to be around him, the sex was amazing. We were definitely going to try on a relationship if I had anything to say about it.

  But my feelings for Harris were clear, too. I don’t like talking about that bad time in my life. Those were some dark days. I was so depressed and alone. I’d wrecked the relationship because I couldn’t stop wrecking everything in my life. It was Harris who had come to my rescue, even though he’d been so hurt by me. He’d been generous at a time when he would’ve been justified turning his back on me forever.

  I know he’s manipulative. I know he’s a control freak. He’s the kind of guy who sees your wardrobe and buys you a new one because he’d prefer to see you in colors that he likes. He’s got enough money to make that work.

  But that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel pain. It didn’t mean his heart wasn’t breaking, and as a friend, I felt this need to go to him and help. It didn’t take anything away from what was budding between me and Nat to say that.

  Maybe if Nat had had more relationships in his life, he would’ve understood better, and not been so afraid. Harris wasn’t going to steal me away! But that very lack of confidence was one of the things that attracted me to Nat in the first place. I liked that shyness. It had taken so much out of him to stand his ground out there on the terrace. He had tried so hard to make his case. I couldn’t help going with him after that.

  But I won’t deny things were a little tense between us because of it. We didn’t talk a whole lot. We went to the dog park and let Mr. Thurgood run around, and we did a little chit-chat, but then a few minutes later we were both looking down at our phones. I don’t think either of us really wanted to talk about what we were feeling right now, and that was okay. We’d work it out.

  When Joan called, it was a surprise. Nat had this ridiculously hopeful look on his face. “Do you think it’s time already?” he asked me. “Should we head back to the condo?”

  I was amazed; it wasn’t even noon yet. How could they have finished the kitchen already? Of course, it was pretty small, maybe it just didn’t take long? Nat was practically glowing with excitement, and that glow melted away a lot of my tension.

  “Maybe you should try answering the phone and find out?” I said.

  “Hey Joan,” he said, putting her on speaker.

  “Nat! I’ve got some good news, and some bad news. Actually two bad news. Newses.”

  “Uh-oh.” He went a little pale. So much for that glow.

  “It turns out that leak was worse than we thought. There are some structural problems under your fridge.”

  “Oh my god,” he said.

  “You’re lucky we came in when we did. Arnold says it’s possible that your fridge could’ve caved in the floor.”

  “Oh my god!” we both said.

  “So that’s the bad news. The good news is, Arnold’s got the carpenters here, and they’ve fixed everything. So the floor is fine, everything is solid.”

  “But there was one more bad news...?”

  “It put us way behind, I’m afraid. We’re going to be working all night to get this finished.”

  “No big reveal today?” he said.

  “Not today. But look, here is a second good news. The show is going to pay for you to stay at the Excelsior tonight.”

  “You’re kidding.” He gave me this big sappy grin. The Excelsior was where you stayed if you were a big developer or star or diplomat. My entire time in Oceanside, I’d only been there a few times, never in one of the actual rooms.

  “I’ve already booked a suite for you and Owen,” continued Joan. “We’ll do a little more interviewing with you tonigh
t, get your reactions to the news--remember to be spontaneous like you’re just hearing it--and then tomorrow we’ll get the reveal going.”

  I had a little worry. “Can Mr. Thurgood come?” I asked. I looked down at my pup. He’d be forlorn if he couldn’t join us.

  “I got special permission,” said Joan. “Mr. Thurgood is going to be a television star, after all.”

  “Soon the world will recognize your greatness,” I said to him, and he snuffled his acceptance of the matter.

  As Nat was hanging up, I noticed an icon on his phone. “Who has been calling you?”

  “What?”

  “Your voicemail icon. It’s showing a lot of messages you haven’t been listening to.”

  “Oh god, that’s my folks. My dad, in particular.”

  “Is everything okay? Should you call him?” I wondered for a moment if it was strange that we hadn’t actually talked about our families yet. Maybe not. We still existed in this little bubble of newness. He didn’t need to know about my chain-smoking mom just yet.

  “No, no. I should never call. Ever. They’re worried about the show...or at least, about the you-and-me part.”

  “You told your parents about me? I’m flattered!” Then I frowned. What if it hadn’t been flattering?

  “They’re very worried about the fake relationship part of it,” I said. “I haven’t had a chance to tell them...I mean, you and I haven’t even worked out whether this is really...”

  I sighed. “It has been kind of a whirlwind, hasn’t it?”

  “I don’t want to give them false hope, you know?”

  “No, of course. It would break their hearts. I can just see them now--I mean, I can’t see them because I’ve never met them and don’t know what they look like--but I can just imagine them holding a portrait of you, weeping gently over it, their tears falling down onto the glass, as they think about their only son all alone. You’re an only child, right? You haven’t mentioned brothers or sisters.”

  “They keep trying to fix me up with people back home. Accountants and retail elves and--”

  “Retail elves?”

  “There’s this Christmas store, it’s open all year, the guys dress like elves.”

  “People willingly do that? Are you sure it’s not human trafficking?”

  “I always thought it must pay spectacularly well, because I wouldn’t get into an elf suit for less than fifty thousand a year.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Interesting how you just pick that figure out of the air. Do you think a lot about what it’d take for you to wear an elf suit?”

  “My point,” he said, “is that they’re worried I’m wasting time on a fake relationship, and will never have a real one.”

  I tried to sound very grown-up when I said, “And your worry is whether what we have is a real relationship.”

  A long pause stretched between us, as we gave each other meaningful looks.

  “I’m having a great time with you,” he said.

  “But?”

  “There isn’t a but. I just don’t like the pressure of declaring to everybody that I’m in a couple.”

  More people had shown up to the dog park, and I was feeling an uncharacteristic shyness about our conversation. Of course, I knew why. I was going to have to say something real, something that wasn’t a joke, and I had such a hard time doing that. Especially with lots of people around. All my natural defenses went up.

  “The way I see it,” I said finally, “there are two parts to that. There’s the fear that maybe we won’t work out. That even though we had fun, and even though we’re clearly compatible in bed, and even though you’re not grotesque-looking or completely without a sense of humor, it’s still early days in this thing we have, whatever it is, and its brief candle could be snuffed out.”

  “Macbeth?”

  “What?”

  “The brief candle thing. Was that Macbeth?”

  “See, you’re doing what I always do. You’re veering away from the point because it’s uncomfortable. The second part of my point is, the only thing worse than a relationship not really coalescing, is if you’ve told a bunch of people you met someone, because then they’ve got these expectant looks and you’re having to tell them, no, no, it didn’t happen, and then they feel sorry for you, and you’re a little embarrassed about it. Am I right about that? Is that how you’re feeling?”

  “Is that how you’re feeling?”

  “Hell yes it is! Nat, I like you! Which I didn’t expect at all. I thought I’d go on this show, it’d be a lark, and then life would go back to normal.”

  “I like you too, Owen.”

  “Mr. Thurgood also likes you, and he’s a stern judge of character and moral fiber.”

  “Mr. Thurgood is kind of a slut, isn’t he? He likes everyone.”

  “Let us not sully this discussion by casting aspersions on Mr. Thurgood’s taste in men. There. We’ve established that we like each other.”

  “I seem to remember someone telling me the other day not to overthink this.”

  I noticed we were sitting closer together now than we had been when we first got here. In fact, our thighs were touching. I leaned to the side until our arms were touching, too. “I’m not used to liking someone,” I said. “I’m out of practice.”

  “I’m even more out of practice than you are,” said Nat. “You had that thing with Harris. I haven’t been in an actual relationship in...god, I don’t even know how long. I’m so worried I’m going to do something wrong. Or that it’ll just end, and we won’t know why.”

  “That’s the overthinking part. Two lonely guys clinging to one another, like there was a shipwreck at sea, and they’re holding each other tight to stay afloat, except they’re going to drown because they’ve forgotten that individually, they can swim.”

  Nat stared at me. “That’s one grim parable.”

  My hand found his. “Joan has gotten us a great big hotel suite. Let’s go there and lounge and drink and get room service, and not overthink--maybe not think at all.”

  “I’m scared to touch anything,” said Nat.

  My eyes were wide. “I know what you mean,” I said.

  The Oceanfront suite was spectacular. It was so enormous. Afternoon light poured in through the massive windows overlooking the sea. The glass was so clear, so flawless, you could see for miles. I could spot the tiny little trawlers out on the water, halfway to the horizon.

  “The bathroom is bigger than my condo!” called Nat. I followed him in, and gasped at the bright lights and massive counters, at the double shower, the mountain of white towels. If you didn’t feel like a shower, no problem, there was a vast tub large enough to drown an army, all sparkly and white.

  There was no stopping us. We had to explore everything. It felt like being a kid again, rushing into one of the bedrooms, leaping onto a bed whose mattress seemed three feet thick, sinking down into it, getting lost in the pillows and blankets. Rolling off and opening walk-in closets wide enough for us to stand shoulder-to-shoulder in, opening drawers meant for clothes and smaller ones for accessories, poking at the safe which we didn’t have a combination to and didn’t have anything to put in it anyway.

  “The bar!” I said, delighted. There were so many tiny bottles, and different sizes and shapes of glasses that I supposed you’d have to be a bartender to know all the purposes for, and tools for mixing and shaking and stirring. “Do you suppose the show will pick up the tab if we drink all of those?”

  “I’m not sure they could afford the liver transplant,” said Nat.

  Mr. Thurgood, unaccustomed to such luxury, had found a wide, tasseled pillow next to the fireplace--the fireplace!--and had curled up to rest after his exertions at the park.

  After we had explored and commented and oohed through the whole place, I think we both felt a little overwhelmed and exhausted, and we collapsed on the wide, deep couch.

  “This is amazing,” said Nat. “I could live here.”

  “I’m offended that
there were no mints on the pillows.”

  “There were five hundred pillows on the bed. Who knows where the mints might be buried? Okay, first order of business.”

  “Room service?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not hungry yet. Are you?”

  “Nope. Yet I feel we should be gluttonous nonetheless, since it’s on Joan’s dime.”

  “What I really want is a bath.”

  I sniffed the air. “Yes, I think you could use one.”

  He threw a couch pillow at me. “It has been so long since I’ve really soaked in a tub. The one in the condo is too small, you can’t stretch out.”

  “You need to find a show called Bathroom Miracles to renovate it.”

  “Yeah, but where am I going to find a second fake boyfriend?”

  Now it was my turn to swat him with the pillow, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me until our faces were close. “Want to come with me? I’m sure there’s room for two.”

  “You get it heated up for me,” I said. “I noted a decided lack of champagne being sent to the room, and intend to rectify that.”

  A tiny little kiss and a laugh, and he left me to go into the palatial bath.

  I have a confession to make. As beautiful as this place was, and as exciting as it was to be able to stay somewhere so gorgeous, and to have a night of decadence with Nat...I was feeling bad. Guilty. I couldn’t show that to him, not after our conversation at the dog park. But my phone, which was on silent mode, had buzzed in my pocket a while ago. First a buzz for a call. Then the one for voicemail. Then the one for text. Nat hadn’t noticed, but I had.

  Of course, I knew who it was. After Nat closed the bathroom door, I pulled my phone out.

  Feeling low, the text from Harris said. Call if you want to.

  I listened to the voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. Nice seeing you today. Sorry if I was a wreck. If you’re not too busy I’d love to talk. I know you’ve got filming to do. So just whenever.”

  There was a note in his voice I wasn’t used to hearing. Was it self-pity, or merely defeat? It so seldom happened that things didn’t go his way. Maybe he didn’t have enough practice in losing things.