“Inwhat world?” He shook his head. “Can’t believe you’re such a sore loser.”
Ouch. “You obviously didn’t see me when we got snubbed at the Grammys.”
“There’s always this year.”
What a little shit. River tossed a cork coaster at his head. “You’re the worst sugar baby ever. God. Doesn’t put out, absolutely dragging me at every opportunity—”
“Hey, people pay extra for that.”
River howled at the ceiling and repeated, “The worst!”
A moment later Jem poked him with one socked toe. “Your turn. Top three celebrity crushes. Come on, let’s hear it. And no saying yourself.”
“Oh, no,” River assured him. “I’m not my type.”
Jem pulled up both legs and sat lotus-style on the couch across from him. “So what is your type, then? Other than natural disasters waiting to happen.”
River stuck out his tongue. “Well… Jonathan Bailey, I guess. I mean he can sing, he can dance, you can bounce a quarter off his pants….”
“Fair,” Jem agreed.
“Chris Pine.” River was warming to the topic now. “That guy does not give a single fuck, he’s just out there living his life and dressing like a gay grandpa.”
“And he can dance and sing and you could bounce a quarter off his ass?” Jem suggested.
Whoops. River caught himself flushing this time. “Well,” he hedged. “Mostly I was thinking that he seems like he has a brain. I’m nottotallyshallow.”
“Uh-huh.” From the twinkle in his eye, Jem was unconvinced. “One more. Better make it count.”
Fuck. Nothing for it. With a groan, River flopped back against the sofa and admitted, “Aldis Hodge.”
The silence from Jem didn’t help. River could feel his cheeks burning. He felt like he’d just run naked through his high-school cafeteria, except, like, that probably wouldn’t haveembarrassed him. Like his crush had just read his love poem out loud to a live studio audience, or something. Mortifying.
After a moment Jem said, “Okay, I mean great choice, but uh….”
Reluctantly, River sat up and met his gaze. “You can say it.”
“You picked three wholesome boy-next-door types,” Jem blurted. He was clearly biting down on a smile and his eyes were alight with mirth. “If you’re crushing on those guys, why are you going home with felons? What’s wrong with you.”
“I don’t know. Celebrity crushes aren’t supposed to be attainable. It’s different.”
“Mm-hmm.” Jem shook his head. “Sure, sure. I’m marking this down as ‘tragic self-esteem issues.’”
Fortunately River was saved from having to defend himself by the glow of headlights coming in through the window. “Oh thank God. The mockery has to end for the night—your ride is here, you ungrateful brat. Get out of here and I’ll see you Saturday, yeah?”
“If you say so.” He stood and stretched a little. The hem of his sweater rode up, exposing a sliver of belly and enough hair that River thought,Guess he’s not an underwear modeland then immediately wanted to give himself a swirlie.
“Wait, wait—you can’t leave looking like that.”
Jem looked down at himself, then up at River, one eyebrow raised. “How do I look, exactly?”
Like—
Oh God. Like the wholesome boy-next-door types River had just been admitting to crushing on.
OhGod, what had he done?
Fortunately, a lifetime of stage performances saved him from worse embarrassment. “Like you’re leaving an eighth-grade dance you were chaperoning, instead of your rock-star boyfriend’s house.”
