Nothing smells like Beau anymore. That realization hurts more than it ever should. I close my eyes for a brief moment to try to recall the scent of him. Blue skies, fresh-cut grass, cedar lingering on sheets, and hard work. Going the rest of my life without that smell seems truly unfair. Life isn’t fair though. It’s cruel and then you die.
Downtown Atlanta is fine, but it’s never felt like home. Despite me living here since I turned eighteen.
The Cantina is a newer Tex-Mex restaurant that we’ve been meeting up at lately. It has the biggest margaritas I’ve ever seen, and it doesn’t cost an arm and a leg. I easily spot my best friends because Jackson is a towering behemoth of a man. He really missed out by not playing basketball professionally. I know the pain of that for him though, so I feel like shit for even thinking it.
“Spill,” Eli demands the moment I take a seat at the table. His big doe eyes blink at me in fear and worry, which I hate, but I also oddly appreciate. Sometimes it’s nice to be cared about. The operative word is sometimes.
“I had a job this weekend.” I take a large gulp of the margarita Jackson slides across the table. “I think I accidentally started to make it more real than I should.”
“Ah, kid.” Jackson shakes his head, leaning on his elbows.
I grimace as I play with a coaster. “I know.”
“And what if it was real?”
Eli is always like this. He sees the best in everyone. A hopeless romantic at heart where I’m more of a realist. The odds of a john falling in love with me, or my friends is zip to none.Pretty Womanis just a lovely fairy tale, an urban legend, not a true story.
“Eli,” I scoff with a roll of my eyes.
“It’s not impossible!” Eli argues testily.
Jackson taps the table between us like a good referee. “We’re here to listen to Trevor. If he thinks it can’t happen, then it can’t happen. What do you need from us?”
I pinch my nose to fight angry tears from falling. “I’ve got too much baggage for this.”
“Trevor.” Eli reaches across the table to take my hand in his with a kind smile. Nausea sends my stomach swirling at his perfect, sweet kindness. “Falling in love isn’t a bad thing, even if it’s just for the weekend, even if they don’t love you back. Sometimes it’s nice just to love, to know you’re capable of it.”
“Ugh.” I angrily yank my hand away to roughly press my heel to my forehead.
“In other news, the bartender is eye-fucking the shit out of Eli.” Jackson stealthily nods towards the bar. We all sneak glances that way.
Eli smirks, sending the bartender a coy wave. I try not to laugh when the classically handsome bartender waves back, smiling like a lovestruck dope. Eli is so easy to love. My best friend. He’s a couple years older than me but I don’t think age really matters when you connect with someone. Eli is proof of that.
“Think I should go for it?” Eli asks while biting his lip.
I kick him under the table. “One thousand percent.”
Eli kicks me back softly, then climbs from the table with a dreamy sigh. “You’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” I promise him, and I mean it. I’m always fine.
Eli sweetly pats my head and happily skips off towards the bar. Jackson and I watch on for a few minutes as Eli leans against the bar, butt wiggling a little as he sways on his feet to flirt with the bartender. The man sure has game, without even trying. Must be so nice.
“You know that not everyone hires us because they have some ulterior motive.”
“Ugh, Jackson,” I groan with a bitter laugh. “Seriously. I get it.”
Jackson skewers me with an assessing look, one dark eyebrow raised. He’s not the eldest of us fake boyfriends, but his energy has always been of the boyfriend wrangler. Even our protector. But he’s also wickedly smart and plays the stock market in a way that feels borderline illegal. I’m not sure he even needs to be a fake boyfriend. I think he honestly just likes it.
“You know we love you, right? You’re not just a boyfriend, but our best friend.”
Ugh, damn Jackson and his ability to see right through me. To see right to all my deepest issues. I’m not sure I’ll ever accept that Jackson, Eli, and Benji actually love me. To my core. Sometimes I feel so rotten, so unlovable. Doesn’t everyone though? At least, that’s how I reassure myself that I’m just deeply normal.
“I do know, I swear.” I reach across the table and pat his stubbled cheek, earning me a pretend bite to my hand. “Be nice to me!”
“We love you.”
“Yeah, yeah. I love you too.”
