While we wait, the two of us peruse the menu. This isn’t your average Dunkin’ Donuts with a display full of half-stale donuts to choose from. These are gourmet donuts straight from the oven, and the heavenly smell of cinnamon and frieddough fills the air as we consider all of the possible toppings.
The disembodied voice manifests a body as a man we’ve seen before, although with far more clothes on this time, emerges from the back. His floppy, surfer hair is contained inside a hair net this morning, but his relaxed, playful smile is still present on his lips. His name tag readsEasy.
“Sorry about that. I’m shorthanded this morning until my help manages to roll his ass out of whatever bed he stumbled into and come in for his shift.”
We both chuckle. “It’s no problem,” I say.
“So, the eternal question…how many donuts for you boys?” Easy asks, leaning over the display case with a suggestive smile and a raised eyebrow.
“Four?” I ask, glancing at Flynn for confirmation.
“Mazel tov,” Easy says with a wink, laughing to himself at a joke we’re clearly not in on. “Take a seat. I’ll get those right up.”
The bell over the door chimes again, and a younger man strides in, his hair jet black, eyeliner artfully applied. He has a messenger bag over one shoulder, and he’s wearing a hot pink tank top paired with tight, black shorts that make his ass look like sin.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says, out of breath as herounds the counter and grabs an apron off the hook.
Easy’s smile stays in place, but irritation flashes behind his eyes. “Morning, Lyric. Can you just get four of the s’mores donuts for these gentlemen?”
“Uh…” The kid looks at the buffet of toppings. “What’s in the s’mores one again?”
“Honey, you’re lucky you’re so hot,” Easy mutters before quickly listing off the toppings for a s’mores donut. Once our donuts are made and boxed, Easy gives the kid an apologetic smile. “Sorry, that was a dickish thing for me to say. I had a rough night. I love you, man.”
“Another run-in with Hen?” Lyric guesses, and Easy snorts.
“No, different jaded ex. Fuck, I’m a piece of work, aren’t I?” He rubs his hands over his face.
“You’re not a piece of work. You’re in love with a straight guy,” Lyric argues.
Oh shit. This is better than a soap opera.
Easy opens his mouth to respond, then seems to realize we’re still there and returns the casual smile to his expression. “Ferry leaves in ten. You don’t want to miss it,” he says, looking at our bags.
I’m dying to stay and keep eavesdropping, but he’s right. We have to get our asses to the ferry. Our vacation is officially over.
FLYNN
We make it to the ferry with more than enough time, grabbing seats on the top deck and breaking into our box of donuts. Real has been quiet since we left the hotel, but even more so since we got on the ferry.
He’s chewing slowly and staring off into the distance, watching the island shrink smaller and smaller behind us.
“When’s your next trip?” I ask.
Real blinks a few times, confusion flashing over his expression as if he was so lost in his own thoughts that he forgot he has a job he’s going home to. “Um, I’d have to check my calendar, but I think not until August. I have local shoots lined up until then.”
“Perfect, then what do you say to taking me out to that karaoke bar this weekend. I’ll spend the night at your place, cook you breakfast, suck you off until you’re begging for mercy,” I purr the last part low, next to his ear.
The uncertainty in his expression melts away, and he leans into me. “That sounds good. Maybe the next weekend I’ll come stay at your place?”
“Fucking count on it,” I growl, kissing his neck and adding a few nips for good measure. “We canrent a cabin upstate in a few months and do touristy shit like look at the changing leaves.”
He laughs breathlessly as I nuzzle his ear. “You know, my family still does those ridiculously big Christmases.”
“I’m there,” I agree without hesitation. “I meant it the other day. This is real. I’m all in.”
Real tosses the empty donut box onto the floor by our feet and swivels to kiss me, dragging his fingers through my hair and pressing frantic little pecks to my lips. “I love you, Flynn. I feel like I’ve spent the last fifteen years waiting for you without even realizing it.”
“Me too,” I murmur. “And we’re definitely not doingthatshit again. This is it.” I put a hand on his chest to feel the wild beat of his heart. “This is The Real Deal.”
