I throw my shoulders back and make sure my tank top is sitting just right on my pecs to show off the dark hair and firm muscles. If that’s what Real is into these days, I’m happy to say I’ve got it in spades. So, bear-dude will have to fight me for his attention if I have anything to say about it.
The dude notices my approach first, raising an interested eyebrow and giving me a slow, appreciative once-over. If heisReal’s boyfriend, there might be some potential for a three-way. I could possibly work with that. It takes Real a second longer to realize he’s lost the guy's full attention before glancing over his shoulder.
His eyebrows pull together, and he looks me up and down, irritation warring with lust. When he reaches my face, I see the exact moment when recognition dawns on him.
“Flynn Fucking Vale?”
“You remembered my middle name,” I tease.
He chuckles, disbelief etched on his expression as he takes me in a second time like he’s sure I’ll vanish any minute, nothing more than a ferry mirage.
“I remember…too much,” he says, a hint of sadness creeping in at the end.
That’s all it takes to slam me back into the guilt and regret I’ve spent all these years runningfrom. I want to pull him into my arms and hug away any hurt I caused. I want to drop to my knees and beg him for forgiveness. I want to find a time machine and turn the clock back to that night and do every damn thing differently.
“Real, I’m…”
“Wait, what the fuck are you doing here?” he asks before I can get off the first of what I’m sure will be a thousand apologies, or as many as it will take for him to forgive me.
“Uh…” I look around and grin in spite of myself. What am I doing on a ferry to Palm Island? The gayest vacation destination this side of…well, anywhere actually.
“I thought you were straight.”
“Ah.” I shove my hands into my pockets and rock on my heels. “Yeah, I can see where you might get that impression, considering—”
“Considering the last time I saw you, you dodged my kiss and then sprinted away without a backward glance, only for me to find out later that youmoved away. I worked up the courage to come out, admitted my feelings for you, and then you moved out of the fucking state.”
I wince. “Those two things were entirely unrelated,” I defend. “I was moving whether you were gay or straight.”
“Uh-huh. And the running away thing?”
“I was sixteen, and it was a lot.” I wish I had a better answer than that, but I don’t.
“So, you’re gay?” he asks, not sounding entirely convinced.
“I’d show you my membership card, but I left it in my other wallet,” I deadpan. “Tell you what, pick a show tune, any show tune…”
His suspicious expression morphs into a new smile, and he slugs me in the arm. “Fuck, you’re as dumb as you ever were.”
“Yeah,” I agree, balling my hands into fists in my pockets to keep from reaching for him.
“You going to be on the island for a few days?” Real asks.
“Seven days, actually.”
“Me too.”
“Yeah? Maybe we could hang out.” At some point during our little reunion, bear-dude slunk away, so I’m guessing they’re not together. Which is good for bear-dude because I already blew my chance once, and if the universe is willing to drop a do-over into my lap, I’m all about it.
Seven days in paradise with the man I haven’t been able to get off my mind in a decade and a half? Hell to the yes.
Chapter 2
REAL
I reach down and covertly pinch myself just to check that I’m not dreaming. I’m met with an immediate sting, and I both wince and laugh with relief. Flynn cocks an eyebrow the way he always did when we were teenagers and he thought I was being strange. Fuck, I wanted to chew his eyebrows off back then. You know, in a sexy way. God, he was right. I was weird…amweird. But fuck it, he’s here, and I’m here, and we have a weeklong vacation ahead of us.
The boat docks, and I bend down to pick up my duffle bag, but Flynn beats me to it, slinging it over his shoulder along with his own and winking at me, a roguish smile on his ridiculously handsome face. I thought he was good-looking when we were younger, but the years have been damn good to him. I’m more or less the same skinny dude I’ve always been. At least I’ve perfected my bedroom eyes, and I can rock the hell out of a leather jacket, so it could be worse.
