And now I want to wrap him in a hug.
“I’ve done everything by myself for so long,” he adds. “And I know I can handle it, but it would be nice if there was someone else I could lean on when things are hard.”
I resist going in for the hug, because that would be weird, but I do inch out my hand and place it over his knee. “That makes sense.”
He laughs humorlessly. “Does it? Or does it make me sound weak?”
“No,” I say adamantly, giving him a squeeze. “You’re the furthest thing from weak. I’m sure most people would like to have what you’re describing.”
“You do everything on your own too, though. And you don’t seem like you need anyone else.”
No, I don’t think Ineedanyone. But like he said, the idea of having someone else to lean on sometimes does sound kind of nice. If it was the right someone. “I do have my dad,” I say, which is true, for the most part.
“Yeah.” He sighs. “I don’t have family like that.”
I could remind him he has May, but I understand that’s not what he means. Almost without my permission, my thumb starts rubbing his knee over the thin material of his pajama pants. I was right—they are soft. And it might be my imagination, but itfeels like he shifts just the tiniest bit closer to me as his eyes peer down at where I’m touching him.
“You have me,” I tell him. Because even though that sounds like an embarrassingly cheesy line from a romance movie, I mean it. And it’s important he knows it.
The achingly appreciative look is back on his face as he raises his eyes to meet mine. “I know I do, and I’m so grateful for that.”
“I know you are.”
“You have me too, you know,” he says quietly. “I know you don’t need me for anything, but... if you did, I’d be there.”
Fuck.Why does it feel so good to hear him say that?
Since I’m not good at handling emotions, I awkwardly mumble my thanks. Then I ask what else he wants in a boyfriend, in the hopes of steering the conversation back to less vulnerable territory. Less vulnerable for me, at least.
And maybe he senses my need for levity, because he says, “Rock hard abs and at least eight inches.” Then the little fucker winks at me.
I can’t help it, I burst out laughing. He’s never said something that obscene to me before. Luckily, the shock of it made it funny, rather than a turn on.
As I calm down, I tell him, “While I may be able to provide that, I don’t think it’s something I can display in front of Elise and Grant.”
His blue eyes flash darker for a second, and I replay my own words.Shit.Am I flirting?
Quickly, I move past the talk about dicks and add, “So how about something that helps me illustrate to them how much I care about you? As your fake boyfriend, I mean.”
“Let’s see...” He twists the extra material of his pillowcase between his fingers. “Is it super self-centered if I say I want a boyfriend who totally adores me?”
I adore you.
“Not at all,” I reply, holding in my first thought. “You deserve that.”
“It’s just that I’ve always put all my focus on being a good dad for May. So if I’m going to give someone else part of my focus, I want to know that it’s worth it. I need to know that they reallywantto be around.” He nudges the back of my hand with his knuckle, and I realize I haven’t taken it off his knee yet, so I reluctantly do that. “But don’t worry, Elise and Grant don’t seem suspicious about us. I think they’ll buy this thing without you having to pretend to fawn over me. In fact, you doing that would probably be hilarious and just blow our cover, because fawning doesn’t fit your whole Grumptopus vibe at all.”
I pretend to be offended, though he’s not exactly wrong. “Hey, I could fawn.”
He gives me a look like he’s fighting to keep a straight face, and then he laughs. “Sure. Right. I totally buy that.”
“I could,” I argue. Because now, inexplicably, I feel the need to prove it to him. To prove I could be the kind of boyfriend he wants. And actually, I’m pretty sure I fawn over him all the time in my head. It’s just the doing it openly part that would likely be hard for me.
“Hmm,” he says, tapping his finger against his chin, like maybe he’s trying to picture it. Which, yes, I imagine isn’t easy. Then he gets an evil glint in his eyes and says, “All right, so I expect a flash mob.”
“A what now?” I say. Even though I do know what flash mobs are. Ridiculous, publicly humiliating spectacles.
He nods enthusiastically. “Yup. That’s the level of fawning and adoring I’m talking about. I want a guy to be so into me that he needs to make sure everyone else knows it too.”
