“Desperate and needy,” Maverick murmured, “that’s a look.”
Silas waved that off. “We’ll make you look sexy and irresistible,” he said. “Marcus will be falling all over himself to take you home.”
My chest tightened, my heart longing for something else.
“Good,” I forced myself to say.
If nothing else, this date could remind me that I was still single, and Hank was not—and never would be—my boyfriend. Even if my heart ached for him, even if my skin crackled with the urge to be against his, even if those cuddles on his couch were the closest to happiness I’d ever been, surrounded by his warmth and his strength.
I got up and marched back to the clothes rack, a man on a mission.
I wasn’t naive. This guy wouldn’t be a love match. He couldn’t be, not with my heart so full of the man I couldn’t have. But he’d be a step toward waking the hell up and moving on.
Because I had to. For my own good.
In the end, I bought a silvery button-down with a paisley pattern, dark jeans, and some new underwear that I was fairly certain would be hell on my balls but make my ass look great.
I slid my card across the check-out counter and forced a smile for Everdeen, who ran the shop. She was a lovely lady who’d named her shop quite innocently, but once the gay jokes started flying, she’d embraced it by bringing in a line of flamboyant tops and bottoms that were mostly too risqué outside of clubbing or Pride events, but I’d heard that Kevin Rhodes kept her in the black all on his own. He was our resident femboy and ever more famous drag queen who’d taken to traveling the western states with his trucker boyfriend Garrett Rafferty and doing shows all over the country.
His YouTube makeup channel had expanded to fashion and absolutely blown up, especially when he started mixing in drag show clips.
“You are going to look so handsome,” Everdeen said as she slid the bags over. “That date won’t know what hit him!”
I couldn’t muster the proper enthusiasm, but Silas and Maverick covered for me, teasing and jostling me about my hot new boyfriend.
“Make sure you invite the chef to my place as soon as possible,” Maverick teased. “He can cook, and maybe Damon will learn a thing or two.”
Silas laughed. “Don’t count on it. You’re lucky that man knows how to work a stove.”
“He does a decent job on the grill, but he could definitely expand his repertoire.”
“When you think about it, the world is really unfair,” Silas said. “Jamie is already pretty good in the kitchen.”
“No, it’ll be great!” Maverick insisted. “They’ll be a powerchef couple and they’ll host dinner parties and we’ll eat so much good food.”
“Ooh, and they can come to the rescue when my catering falls apart on a wedding,” Silas said.
I stopped at my car and turned to them. “Okay, I draw the line there. This fantasy world you guys have is a nice gesture and all, but there’s no way in hell my fictional boyfriend is catering for your bridezillas! I get enough of that already!”
My voice rose to a high pitch, and my friends exchanged a wide-eyed look.
“Are you okay, Jamie?” Maverick asked.
“Maybe you should call off the date if?—”
“I’m fine. I’m great. I’m going to go out with Marcus and forget all about my huge raging crush because I’m not a silly schoolboy who pines over someone he can’t have.”
“Okay,” Maverick said. “If you’re sure…”
“I have to be sure,” I said, suddenly tired and sad. “There’s not much point to holding on to a fantasy.”
“No,” Silas said gently. “There’s not.”
I nodded once, jerkily. “Okay, then. I’ll go on the date, and I’ll move on from Hank. Just don’t start planning any dinner parties yet. This is damage control, plain and simple.”
Maverick tugged me into a hug, squeezing me hard enough to make me wheeze. “It always hurts before it gets better.”
Silas met my gaze over his shoulder, signature smirk in place. “Go get some nookie and you’ll feel better.”
