by Tanya Chris
“Money makes people greedy,” Carson intoned solemnly.
“Not me!”
Not that he’d had a lot of opportunity to find out yet. Carson had always been the better off of the two of them, with parents who could afford to send him to college and now a white collar job that paid him more for sitting on his ass rolling around a mouse than Seth earned for getting bruised knuckles and the lumbar region of a sixty-year-old. But whatever money Seth had ever had, he’d shared.
“Remember when you used to come home from college on breaks? Was I ever cheap with you?” That’d been the one period of their lives when he’d been more flush than Carson—not exactly rolling in it, but he’d treated his friend to some proper nights on the town.
“I’m just saying that you think you know someone, but when there's a bunch of money involved, sometimes it turns out you don't. What you promise now and what you’ll actually do later might be very different things, and I’d like to have a little protection in place to make sure you keep your promises.”
“Fuck, dude. We haven't even embarked on this journey and you're already litigating the miserable end.”
“He's right, though.” The bartender butted into their conversation as she took a rag to the space in front of them. “You should totally get a prenup. They’re for everyone's protection.”
“We're not getting married.” Seth scowled at her until she went and wiped the bar in front of someone else. “People are so fucking nosy.” They probably shouldn’t be talking about any of this out in public. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Have you told anyone about winning yet?”
He hadn’t told a soul himself, because people would want things from him. His parents would be first in line. He could hardly remember the last time they’d even talked to him, but if they knew he’d won a million dollars, they’d be talking to him on the daily. Roommates, friends, co-workers. He was a generous guy, but he couldn’t buy the whole world a beer. He would take care of Carson, because Carson was his homey and the secret love of his life, but everyone else could go fuck themselves.
Carson shook his head. “I haven’t even told my parents. I feel weird not telling them, but...”
“I know, I get it.” The money was their secret, their special thing. “We don’t have to, you know.”
“Ever?”
“Why should we? We'll just say we're moving to New York together. We’re two young guys, friends since forever. Why shouldn’t we move to New York? And it’s not like we owe anyone an accounting of how we’re paying our bills down there.”
“My parents will want to know how I’m paying my bills. They worry about me.”
“You’re a big boy. Be vague.”
Carson shrugged and went back to picking at the label on his beer. That unpleasant silence settled between them again. Seth hated it.
“We should turn in that ticket. We’ll feel better when it’s official, when we’ve actually got the money in our hands.” Having a million dollars hidden in a mattress would make anyone edgy.
Carson shrugged again, still sullen. “I think we should sign a contract first. Something that spells out our agreement.”
“Like, go to a lawyer? Why can’t we trust each other on this?”
“I’m letting you hang on to the ticket, aren’t I? You could fuck me over at any point, just disappear with it.”
“Dude, you’re getting seriously paranoid. I’m starting to worry this money is going to ruin our friendship.” He’d rather hand it all over than squabble about it. Carson was the only person he’d ever been able to count on, the only stable relationship in his life and the one he most wanted to keep, which was why he was careful to never let on that his feelings ran deeper than friendship.
“That’s just it,” Carson said with a sigh. He turned to face Seth—his plump lips pursed into a scowl—and raked a hand over the short brown waves of hair framing his deep brown eyes. “A contract would protect our friendship.”
“Lawyers cost money—money we don’t have until we claim that prize. Money we could be spending on chasing down our dreams in New York instead of on a piece of paper.”
“I’ll front the cost for the lawyer. We can deduct your half out of the prize money once we get it.”
Seth could imagine Carson with a calculator and a spreadsheet and a pile of receipts, detailing who owed who what. “I thought we were doing this as a team—what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine.”
“No wonder the bartender thinks we’re getting married,” Carson kicked at his foot and they shared a snicker. For a moment, it felt easy again. This would be a lot more fun if they were talking about seeing a preacher instead of a lawyer.
“You know,” he said slowly as something ticked over in his mind. “It’s not necessarily a bad idea. You want legal protection, right? Marriage would give it to you. No contract to negotiate, just a marriage license and some I do’s. When the money’s gone, we get a quickie divorce, unless—” He paused dramatically.
“Unless what?”
Unless we fall in love in the meantime.
“Unless one of us makes it big. Then the other one has all the legal protection he needs to make sure the assets get split fairly.”
“So if you're a movie star pulling in millions, I can sue you for alimony?”
“And if you're JK Rowling with an eight book contract, guess who's getting half the merchandising rights for the rest of his life?”
They high fived over their imaginary future success.
Carson was smiling again, his teeth gleaming in the blue light coming from the neon signs over the bar. “Of all the ridiculous ideas you’ve ever had, this is definitely the most out-there. Good thinking outside of the box, though.” He raised his bottle to Seth with a wink and took a hefty swig from it.
“I’m not kidding. We should do it before we turn in the ticket, have the check made out to Mr. and Mr. Seth Roberts.”
Carson rolled his eyes. “I’m not marrying you.”
“Come on, you know you'd love being married to me.” And Seth sure as hell wouldn’t mind being married to him. Dude was handsome, smart, sensible, and his ass did a great job of filling out his jeans.
“When I get married, I want it to be for the right reasons. I want it to be forever.”
“Forever.” Seth snorted. “What decade are you living in? Everyone gets divorced, and personally, I’d be honored to have you as my first ex-husband. You’ll be immortalized in my Wikipedia entry.”
“How could I possibly turn that down?” Carson asked mockingly. And then, more seriously. “You always said you weren’t ever getting married.”
“I said I wasn’t getting married until gay marriage was legal everywhere. Which it is now.”
“Yeah, but you only said that as an excuse for not getting married at all.”
“True.” His best friend knew him pretty well, but his best friend didn’t know he was the reason Seth had given up on ever getting married. “I figured since everyone gets divorced, there’s no point getting married, but in our case, there’d be a point. You’re the one who wanted some kind of legal protection, remember?”
“A contract, not a husband.”
“Don't be homophobic.” He leaned over and slurped a wet kiss up Carson’s cheek. Carson had surprisingly soft skin, which Seth loved to touch. He usually restrained himself from sucking on his friend’s face, but hey, they were going to be husbands. Nothing wrong with a little PDA.
“You're so annoying.” Carson tried to brush him off, but Seth only clung harder. “Why would I marry someone so annoying?”
“Because someday he's going to be rich.”
Chapter 3 Carson
“You look nice.” Carson straightened the knot on Seth's tie. It wasn't often he saw his best friend in a suit, but if they were getting married, they weren’t doing it in jeans. Seth looked sharp in charcoal grey and light pink, the pastel hues setting off his bright eyes, but his skin color was off, like it was picking
up the grey of his jacket.
“I don't feel good.” Seth’s gaze darted around the lobby of the courthouse where they’d met to do the deed. He swallowed with an exaggerated grimace, as if his lunch was about to come back up all over the glimmering gold quartz tiles.
“Second thoughts?” Carson dropped his hands away from Seth’s neck, backing up just a little in case Seth’s lunch really did come up.
“Yeah. I, uh, I don't think this plan is going to work.”
“It's actually a pretty smart idea.”
That wasn’t what he’d said when Seth first suggested it, but he would be disappointed if Seth backed out now. The whole thing was arranged. They even had friends coming to act as witnesses. And with some time to consider all the possibilities, he’d indulged in a few fantasies about how the arrangement might work out. This was his chance—his chance to have Seth to himself and to find out if pretend could turn into real.
“There's a loophole,” Seth said. “I realized it last night when I was, uh... I was with this guy, right?”
“You slept with someone the night before our wedding?” Jesus, fuck. Obviously he and Seth were approaching this from completely different angles.
“Like a bachelor party,” Seth explained. “Hey, wait. What do you even mean, you slept with someone the night before our wedding?” Seth threw his own words back at him in a mocking tone.
Carson pushed his hands deep into his pockets. He wore a suit more often than Seth, but he didn’t look as good in one. “Obviously you can sleep with whoever you want,” he said, pretending he wasn’t hurt by it. “This is a business arrangement. I’m just saying that having sex with a stranger the night before your wedding is kind of skanky. You couldn’t hold off?”
“It was my last night as a free man,” Seth protested. “Come on, it’s funny.”
Carson didn’t think it was funny.
“Well, it seemed funny at the time, but it got me to thinking. I can’t go for years without getting laid. I’m not like you.”
“Such a skank.” Carson shook his head.
“I’m trying to talk to you about a serious problem. Stop insulting me.”
“You insulted me first. I like sex too, okay? I just happen to like it better with someone I care about.”
“Fine, that’s fine. I’m not being insulting about your... preference.”
“All right then.” Carson nodded tightly. They’d had this argument before.
“You prefer to have sex with people you’re emotionally invested in, and I prefer to have sex on a regular basis. We’re both allowed our preferences. But, Carson. We’re getting married.”
“I know.” He fished out the rings tucked into his pocket. They weren’t expensive. They might not even fit. But he was getting married for the first—and he vaguely hoped last—time in his life. There should be rings.
Seth looked at them as if he didn’t understand what they were, his mouth open wide in an undignified gape. Carson was about to ask what the mystery was, but Leslie and Trisha joined them just then, and they understood what they were looking at. Trisha pounced on the rings with such enthusiasm, he was sorry he hadn’t put more cash into them. They were just plain gold bands, matching ones with scalloped edges and no engraving, but she squealed over them like they were heirlooms studded in diamonds.
“I can’t believe I never picked up on this,” she said as she handed the rings off to Leslie who was much less impressed by them. “As much as I saw you two together, how could I not have noticed how perfect you are for each other?” She steered them closer together and got out her phone. “I totally bought the friends act.”
And was buying the not-friends act now, apparently, but Leslie was a harder sell. “How long has this been going on?” they asked.
“Um, not long.” Carson put his arm around Seth in response to Trisha’s frantic gesturing. They should probably have practiced this. And also thought about the answers to questions like how long they’d been dating. “Seth just proposed a few days ago.”
“Seth proposed?” Leslie said with a laugh. “I did not see that coming.”
“I can’t be impulsive?” Seth protested. “Impulsive is my middle name.” He was several inches shorter than Carson, a perfect fit against his side if he’d just stop squirming.
“So romantic.” Trisha snapped another picture. “When are you proposing to me?” she asked Leslie.
“Oh, great. Now look what you’ve done.”
“Not my fault I’m more romantic than you are,” Seth said. “Give your girl what she needs—that’s my motto. Or guy, rather. Give my guy what he needs. Uh, Carson, could we finish that conversation we were having? Somewhere private?”
Leslie laughed, jingling the rings in their palm. “I’ll just hang on to these while you talk. Maybe you won’t need them after all.”
“Don’t take too long,” Trisha called after them. “We’ve got an appointment.”
“Where are we going?” Carson asked as Seth dragged him across the lobby by his sleeve.
“Somewhere that witch can’t see us.”
“Witch? You mean Leslie? You like Leslie.”
“Normally, but they see too much to be safe.” Seth pulled him into a wooden niche that’d probably once housed a payphone. It was just an empty structure now, almost like someone had dropped a Catholic confessional down into the courthouse.
“Carson.” Seth’s shoulders slumped in the sharp lines of his elegant suit as he turned his face up in appeal. “There’s no way I can pull this off.”
“You mean pretending to be affectionate?” Was he so ugly compared to the men Seth regularly chased and fucked that Seth couldn’t even bear to stand next to him for a photo?
“No, I can be affectionate. That’s not a problem.” The phonebooth was a tight fit for two. Seth’s breath washed against his cheek as he spoke. “It’s that other thing I was talking about. The sex. If you get rich and I don’t, you’re supposed to support me, right?”
“That’s what we agreed.” It seemed unlikely—most authors made a pittance—but Seth was welcome to share whatever pittance Carson made.
“So I can just see us in divorce court, with you pulling up surveillance footage of all the guys I've been fucking. Then the judge is going to be like, ‘request for alimony denied’ and I’m out of luck.”
“What happened to us trusting each other?” Carson asked with a frown.
Seth punched his shoulder. Hard. “You were the one who didn’t trust me, remember? And if you don’t trust me, then I don’t trust you, and I’m not having you claim you don’t have to pay up because I wasn’t faithful.”
“Keep it in your pants then.” That suited Carson fine. Here he’d been imagining the two of them acting like real partners, and Seth was already cheating on him.
“You want me to keep it in my pants for five years?”
Even Carson had to admit that sounded like a pretty long time. For Seth, it was an eternity. By the time the money ran out, they’d be twenty-seven or twenty-eight—not too old to find the perfect someone, but old enough that their libidos would’ve died down. Seth was always reminding him that these were his dick’s glory years. He’d actually said those words: your dick’s glory years. Was it any wonder Carson loved him and also wanted to smack him?
“All right,” he said, finally taking Seth’s point. Seth had agreed to a sham marriage, not to chastity. “Let’s figure this out, but can we do it fast because we’ve got an appointment?”
And also, it was freaking hot in this booth. He was melting, thanks to both the stifling lack of air and how close their bodies were. The proximity and the talk of sex had his dick reminding him that his glory years were right fucking now and that Seth was someone he knew very well, cared about very much, and found very attractive. And who was going to be his husband.
“I think I’ve got a solution.” He moved even closer, pinning Seth up against the wall. “We can have sex with each other. How convenient is that? Whenever
you need a little something-something, boom! It’s right there.”
“You're fucking with me.” Seth tipped his head back. His eyes were wild, like a trapped animal’s. “Why are you fucking with me?”
“How am I fucking with you? Married people have sex. It’s a known thing. We’re going to be living in some tiny apartment together, maybe even sleeping in the same bed to save space. Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because it's fucking weird. You’re being weird. We’ve known each other for ten years, and you’ve never wanted to sleep with me before. You're straight.”
“I’m pan.” And it was far from true that he’d never wanted to sleep with Seth. There’d been no action, but there’d been plenty of dreams.
“Pan, sure. I remember. You came out as pan when I came out as gay—way to steal my thunder. But actual number of men you've fucked? Zero.”
“I was with Allie for five years, and I haven't found the right person since then. That doesn’t make me straight. It makes me choosy. But I could choose you, Seth. We’d be married.”
“Carson.” Seth banged his head against the wall behind him, exposing the freshly shaven column of this throat.
“What?” He pressed in tighter, trapping Seth with his body, noticing the strength of the body pressing back.
“Have you ever even kissed a guy?”
“Not yet. Doesn't mean I haven’t wanted to, that I haven’t ever thought about it.” He brought his mouth close to Seth's and let his eyes drift down to rest on Seth's lips. “Leslie and Trisha will expect us to kiss after the ceremony. We should practice.”
“God, don't.” Seth yanked his head to the side.
“Why not?”
“It’s too much for one day. I can’t.”
When Seth closed his eyes, Carson realized what he was doing—pressuring someone into kissing him. Never mind that Seth was in the habit of kissing every guy he so much as walked past. If he didn’t want to kiss Carson, Carson couldn’t make him.
He stepped back, putting as much distance between them as he could manage in the small space, and patted his tie back into place. Seth’s hair looked mussed, as though one of them had been running their fingers through it. Carson smoothed it for him quickly, then straightened the lapels on his jacket.