by Meghan Quinn
“What did you say to her?”
“That I would check inside our underpants later and get back to her.”
My mouth falls open. “No, you didn’t.”
“He did.” Declan nods. “And he checked last night—looks like we’re both the guy. Wonder how that’s going to work?”
I clamp my hands over my ears. “Please don’t tell me about your bedroom antics. You know I don’t want to know about my brother and his willy.”
Declan laughs and leans into Cohen, who briefly kisses the top of his head before pulling away. A surge of pride shoots through me at that little public display of affection from my brother. It was small, and I’m sure Declan would have hoped for a longer embrace, but it was more than I’ve seen from Cohen in a long time. Maybe this competition has opened up my brother, given him more courage to truly be who he is. I hope so. Baby steps, but moving forward is all that matters.
I feel my phone buzz in my back pocket but leave it there. “Please tell me Helen turned white at your response.”
Cohen chuckles to himself and grips the counter. “No, she said she would appreciate it if I followed up.”
“Stop it.” I laugh harder than expected. “And did you?”
He nods. “Went up to Helen this morning and told her that it was difficult research, especially having to stick one hand in my pants and another in Declan’s at the same time, but it looks like we both have dicks.”
“Oh Jesus.” I clutch my cheeks. “Did she pass out?”
“She gave me a sneer and was about to let me have it, but I stopped her and asked if she’d ever asked her daughter who the man was in her relationship.”
“Ohhh, good one.”
“To which she replied: ‘It’s Luciana—she’s the one who wears the strap-on.’”
Together, Declan and I throw our heads back and laugh. Cohen joins us, and it takes a few moments before we gain our composure, but when we do, I say, “How did you keep a straight face?”
“I didn’t,” Cohen says. He seems more loose and casual than ever, like he’s actually comfortable in his skin. “I snorted and was about to tell her, ‘If that’s the case, looks like Declan and I are both the man and the woman in our relationship,’ but she stomped away before I could reply.”
“Oh shit.” I hold my stomach. “Why wasn’t that recorded for the show?”
“Imagine the ratings.” Declan chuckles. “Talk about spicing up The Wedding Game. Not just about nuptials, but sexual education as well.” In a deep announcer voice, Declan says, “This week on The Wedding Game, we dive into sponges, buttercreams, and how the gays decide who is the male and who is the female in the relationship. Stay tuned as we discuss the complexity of strap-ons, hands in pants, and, of course, cake toppers.”
“Helen would have an opinion about the strap-ons for sure,” I say as my phone buzzes again.
“Helen has an opinion about everything,” Cohen says as he stretches side to side. “I’m going to grab some fruit and coffee. Want anything?”
“I’ll go with you,” Declan says. “Daddy needs some tea.”
“Can you not call yourself that, please?” I shiver. “Seriously, Declan.”
“What?” He smirks. “Don’t like knowing your brother calls me Daddy in the bed—”
Cohen pushes Declan to the side and looks me in the eyes. “I don’t call him Daddy.”
Feeling ill from thinking of my brother in this way, I say, “Thanks for clarifying that.”
He winks and takes off as I call out, “Some of that sparkling Zest Tea for me, please.”
When they’re out of sight, I dig into my pocket and pull out my phone. Sure enough, there are two texts from Alec.
My entire body heats up with a giddy, schoolgirl excitement.
I open his messages and force my face to remain neutral.
Alec: Nice tits.
Alec: Great ass.
I snort so hard my nostrils sting.
That’s his text message?
That’s him waxing poetic?
That’s his attempt to get me to go out with him tonight?
I look up and spot him, standing in the corner, leaning against one of the many set designs, arms folded and a smirk on his face as he stares back at me.
He thinks he’s so smooth . . .
Luna: I was promised texts about how pretty you think I am.
He texts right back.
Alec: Nice tits and great ass are supreme compliments. The kind of compliments I don’t hand out lightly. Now, pretty. I could say that to Naomi . . . or even Helen despite the weird way her hair is today. But I would never tell Naomi nice tits and great ass and I sure as fuck would never say that to Helen.
Luna: Oddly your logic works, but I was expecting more.
Alec: Are you high maintenance? Just tell me right now so I can prepare myself.
Luna: Slightly. I like romance . . . so if you want that date, romance me.
Alec: I knew nice tits and great ass weren’t going to fly with you but I tried anyway.
Luna: Worth a shot. But try again.
Alec: *ahem* Luna, darling . . . when you walked onto the set today, my breath caught in my throat, because all I could think about was how you made it all the way in here without anyone telling you your fly is undone.
I gasp and fumble for the fly of my jeans, and . . . it’s zipped.
My phone buzzes.
Alec: Made you look.
Oh my God, I hate him. My eyes shoot up to where he’s standing, laughing by himself.
And even though I want to throat-punch him, I can’t help but chuckle as well.
Luna: Enjoy dinner by yourself tonight.
Alec: Ahh, come on, that was funny. The panic on your face was priceless.
Luna: You really think you’re going to win me over by teasing me?
Alec: Not one of those girls?
Luna: No.
Alec: I beg to differ, given our initial interactions, but fine. Okay, here we go . . . Luna, I thought about our kiss all last night. I wanted to beg you to come back, to give me one more taste of your lips, but I knew if you did come back, you wouldn’t be going home.
The tips of my ears flame as I try to shrink into my seat, as if that will keep people from noticing me.
Luna: Lies or truth?
Alec: All joking aside, that was the honest truth. I woke up this morning with the taste of your lips on my tongue. I couldn’t get here quickly enough, just so I could catch sight of you, and maybe even pull you to the side, despite what we decided on last night.
Okay, maybe he’s a little good at this.
Luna: And why didn’t you? You had your chance.
Alec: Respect, Luna. Wanted to show you I keep my word.
I bite my bottom lip, thinking of all the guys who’ve let me down in the past. Nothing that’s truly devastated me and kept me away from the dating scene, but little letdowns here and there that have stuck with me enough to know that when I date again, I want a guy I can trust. Someone I can rely on.
Alec seems like that kind of guy.
His kiss alone tells me he’s different from any other guy I’ve been with.
And he’s not just a guy. Alec is a man—that much became clear last night.
Luna: I like that.
Alec: Do you like it enough to go out with me tonight?
I glance up and catch him staring back at me. Holding back my smile, I type back.
Luna: What can I say? You had me at nice tits.
From across the set, I can hear him chuckle as he shakes his head.
Alec: You’re brutal—you know that?
Luna: I have to make you work a little. Have fun in your interviews today.
Alec: You too. Try not to cry too much over your loss yesterday.
Luna: Trying to go to dinner alone again?
Alec: Nah, just trying to show you I’m not the uptight asshole you initially thought I was.
Luna: Don’t worry, you proved yourself
worthy this past week.
I set my phone down as Declan and Cohen return. Declan hands me my drink, and Cohen hands me a plate of pineapple and grapes. He knows me so well.
“What’s with the smile?” Cohen asks. “Last time I saw you smile like that, you found waterproof decoupage.”
“That was a special day, wasn’t it?” I open my drink and take a sip, growing warm when I remember how Alec stocked his fridge.
“You made me a birdhouse, for my apartment in the city.”
“Pigeons need love too.” I wink and pop a grape in my mouth.
“Seriously,” Declan says, nudging my shoulder. “What’s with the good mood? I half expected you to show up today in a state of panic because we got second place yesterday. Speaking of, did you try Baxter’s cake?” Declan leans in and whispers. “That was really good cake—like, I want him to make our wedding cake.”
Cohen laughs and leans in as well. “Did you hear Helen complaining to the producers, saying she swears she saw him use a box cake?”
“She did not,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
“She did. I understand her confusion. Team Baxter hasn’t been able to pull it together the entire competition, and then all of a sudden, the guy pulls a cake that belongs in a bakery out of his ass. Suspicious.”
“Maybe he just practiced,” I say, realizing I probably shouldn’t be defending Alec in front of Cohen and Declan—at least not until I see how tonight goes.
I could find out that Alec in fact is a really good first-time kisser but follows up with a sophomore slump of epic proportions, something like dead-fish lips.
But I think deep down I know that a case of dead-fish lips won’t be the problem: me falling head over heels for him will be.
“Or he paid off the judges,” I add, just because that sounds more like me.
“I don’t know.” Declan waves a piece of pineapple on a fork at me. “Helen could be on to something.”
“Helen is on something all right. Just not quite sure it’s legal.”
Cohen nudges me with his foot. “Seriously, sis, why are you so happy?”
Crap, why doesn’t he ever let anything go?
“Just excited to be here.” I grip their forearms. “I love you guys.”
They both stare at me for a few seconds and then at each other. As he spears another piece of pineapple, Declan says, “Your sister totally had sex last night.”
“Declan, don’t say that shit,” Cohen says while I madly blush. “As far as I know, she doesn’t know what a penis is.”
“That’s a lie and you know it.” I point at Cohen. “I know what a penis is because you forced me to look at sex positions for gay men.”
“What?” Declan says. Cohen groans and buries his head in his hands.
“Wow, Luna, it’s been, what, ten years? You’re going to bring that up now?”
“I panicked.” I laugh and turn to Declan. “In our defense, we were drunk and Cohen wanted to become an expert, so we spent some time on the internet researching illustrations. There was no brother-sister porn watching going on, just to clear the air on that. Strictly illustrations.”
“Yeah, that makes it better,” Declan says on a laugh.
Picking up a grape, I ask Cohen, “Should I expect a lecture later tonight?”
“I think you know what time.”
I nod. “I’ll be sure to let the call go to voice mail.”
Alec: Running late. Thad decided to tell his entire life story and relationship with cake. Meet me in half an hour?
Luna: Running late too. But not because of Thad, because I decided to curl my hair to have dinner in a diner and it’s taking longer than expected.
Alec: You getting all gussied up for me?
Luna: No. I have a date with someone else after you. You’re just the appetizer. Main course is with Frederick later.
Alec: Going to make something clear: no man named Frederick will ever be the main course. He’s a palate cleanser at best.
Luna: Are you saying you’re main course material?
Alec: And dessert. See you in a bit.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ALEC
I lean against the wall of Dining Hall, my hands stuffed in my pockets, my eyes scanning the calm streets, waiting for Luna to show up. I love this neighborhood. It’s quiet—pretty much the opposite of Midtown—like its own little borough, tucked away, where you can find solace in this mad, crazy city.
And to think, in this few-block radius, I’ve been so close to Luna and never noticed her—it feels odd.
I glance at the time on my phone. She’s one minute late. Technically, we’re both half an hour late. But now she’s thirty-one minutes late, and that makes me fucking nervous she might stand me up.
I’ve been stood up before, back in college, when I thought it was cool to grow a mustache. I was a punk back then and didn’t really care. I took off, called my buddies, and went drinking.
Now, if she stands me up, my night will turn into me sitting on my couch, staring at a wall, with a patty melt from the diner in a takeout container on my lap—I’d be too goddamn mad to eat in the diner.
Mad and upset.
Probably more upset than mad, because hell, Luna has done something I was not expecting. She’s made me want to give a relationship a try.
Yeah, a relationship.
I’ve had a few, but nothing that made me really want to buckle down and make things work, to put everything on the line and give love a shot.
Luna is different. She’s seen me at a low, and instead of walking away, she pushed past our original animosity and helped me.
She looked past our differences and got to know me on a different level.
She flipped open that cover, and now that my book is open, I can’t seem to close it, no matter how much my scared heart wants to.
“Hey.”
I look up from my shoes to find Luna, smiling and dressed in a cute red romper. Her hair cascades in waves over her shoulders, and her lips match her outfit perfectly.
Hell, she looks good.
“Hey, you.” I internally wince at the relief in my voice.
She must notice, because she says, “Sorry I’m a little late. On the way out, the strap on the sandals I was wearing snapped and I had to change, which then made me rethink my outfit decision, but I thought to hell with it if my shoes don’t coordinate perfectly.”
I take her hand in mine and entwine our fingers. “You look stunning, Luna.”
She smiles before pressing her hand to my forest-green button-up shirt. “You look pretty good yourself.”
“Just pretty good?” I tease. “I pressed this shirt myself.”
“Well, look at you, all domesticated. Can bake cakes and press shirts.”
“Not just any cake. Wedding cakes. There were tiers involved. Tiers and layers.”
“How long are you going to talk about the cake?”
I wish she would close the space a little bit more so I could kiss her, but I have no idea what’s appropriate and what’s not at this point. I’ll settle with hand-holding.
“I’m going to hold on to that win for a very long time.”
She sighs and bumps her shoulder against mine. “Are we going to get something to eat? I’m starving.”
I open the door to the diner and let her in. I follow close behind, her hand still in mine. Fay is carrying a tray of sodas when she spots us. “Take a seat anywhere.” Her eyes fall on our hands, and she stops, tilting her head to the side. “Why did I have a feeling I would see you two in here together at some point?”
Before we can answer, she walks away, toward the loud table in the corner. I nod toward the opposite corner, where it’s quiet and secluded. Luna agrees, and we walk over to a small two-person booth next to the window and slide in on either side.
“I don’t normally sit on this side,” Luna says, looking around.
“Neither do I. I feel kind of weird about it, actually.” I look around as well. “I
don’t feel like I’m in the same place at all.”
“Are you going to need to sit on the other side?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Nah, I’m good. This can be our side.”
“Confident enough to claim a side of the diner we frequent as our side?”
I nod. “Yup.” I pick up the menu and peruse it, even though I know exactly what I’m going to get.
“What makes you so confident?” She folds her arms over her chest.
“You’re the one who felt up my nipple last night.”
She purses her lips and raises a brow. “It was an accidental nip graze.”
“Oh yeah, okay, sure.” I wink at her and set the menu down. “Accidental. Got you. Just like it was an accident that your tongue got lost in my mouth.”
“Why are you so difficult?”
I wince. “Coming on too strong?”
She holds up her fingers, then brings her index finger and thumb together. “Just a little.”
“Fair enough. Maybe we should start over, switch gears.” I clear my throat. “Hey, you.” I give her a slow once-over. “You look so goddamn beautiful.”
She looks down and smiles. “You know, people have told me I’m beautiful before: Declan and Cohen are constantly telling me; past boyfriends have thrown out the compliment as well.” She looks up at me through her lashes. “But you’re the first person who actually makes me feel like what you’re saying is true. And I’m not fishing for compliments—just trying to tell you that I believe what you’re saying, and that’s new.”
“If we’re being honest—” I push my silverware to the side, needing something to play with—“I wasn’t really in the market to meet someone, but there’s something about your personality, the way you didn’t hesitate to help me, that hit me hard, made me crush on you. Big time. I mean, I thought you were beautiful the first time we met, but your general disdain threw me off.”
“And the barking.”
I laugh. “The barking for sure was different.”
“It was new for me too.”
“Yeah? Would have guessed you’d been doing that for years now, with the kind of volume you got on some of those woofs.”
She fluffs her hair. “Why, thank you. I might have practiced in the mirror a few times before I came to set. I never like to go into anything unprepared.”