Sup? What even is that?
Cam’s eyes widen, and he offers a cursory laugh. Avoiding his gaze, my eyes fall on his big ears, which stick out, so he wiggles them in a “hello.”
I laugh; then my cheeks heat in embarrassment because I don’t want to offend him. “Sorry, I—”
“I grew up with kids making fun of my ears. Called me Dumbo, if they were basic. I got Legolas once, that was creative. Once I realized I could wiggle them and make people laugh? It was over for the haters.” Cam’s voice sounds like his balls started dropping, then suddenly stopped, straddling the line between teenager and man. Actually, he sounds like the voice of Alberto in Disney/Pixar’sLuca. I kind of want to make him say, “Silenzio, Bruno!”
Matty’s staring at Cam, his charm working its magic on my eternally horny cousin. “He’s good,” Matty whispers.
Cam’s in skinny jean shorts ripped at the hem just above his knees, black Chuck Taylors, and a black BeyoncéRenaissanceconcert tee with glittery embellishments. He adjusts his black-rimmed glasses.
Ricky appears behind Cam and hugs his waist. I reflexively turn away.
“My boys!” Topher shouts. “Let’s go!”
Tyler and Trav pull up behind him and start shouting, “To-pher! To-pher!”
Benny and Ricky’s dad follow.
“Straight men are exhausting,” Benny says under his breath. “But love and light, I am bounty and beauty and am ready to receive everyone today!”
Trav grabs Benny in a headlock.
“Oh god, what’s happening? I’m getting hate-crimed!” Benny shrieks.
“Field, you ready? You’re the adult today,” Topher shouts. His fine leather sandals that look like he’s from ancient Egypt squeak against the marble floor.
“How’d that happen?” I ask, looking at Ricky’s dad, the actual adult in the room, who laughs.
“Technically, Sienna just doesn’t trust me,” Topher says. “Or Trav or Tyler.”
“Hey,” Tyler and Trav say at once.
“You’re proving her point,” Benny squawks from inside Trav’s headlock. Trav promptly lets him go, and Benny lets out an exhaustive breath. “That was deeply eroticandtraumatizing.”
“I need all hands on deck to keep us on task, men,” Topher continues. “We gotta be at the tailor soon. Sienna will kill us if we’re late and he can’t get us done. Then we have the lemon farm for our private tour and lunch. They’re sticklers for the personalized paper tickets with unique codes for this VIP thing. I plan to talk to them about optimizing and streamlining with LemonTech . . . ,” he continues, but I stop listening, a knot forming as I look at Ricky and Cam, knowing Cam’s ticket is in pieces floating in pipes below the ground right now.
“Got it! We’re on a tight schedule. Let’s get going, then.” I turn and nearly bump into Ricky. “Mornayyy!” Air gets trapped in my throat. “Ha.Triedto say ‘morning,’ but the ole brain said, ‘Make itheyinstead.’ ” I’m the living representation of the sweating awkwardly emoji.
He laughs and cranes his neck, his Adam’s apple and collarbone pronounced, and I want to trace them with my fingers. He brushes his hair back effortlessly, like a model mid-photoshoot. “Mornayyy.”
What do I say now? “How’d you sleep?” Lame.
“Pretty good. Cam snores.”
“Excuse me?” Cam drapes his arms around Ricky’s shoulders like one of Nonna’s winter capes. A waft of black licorice and incense emanates from him. “I’m constantly subjected to the symphonic range of your snoring, sir.” He kisses Ricky on the side of his neck and looks up, as if he’s making sure I caught it.
Ricky blushes, and Cam offers a smile that glibly says,The boy is mine.
May the best man win.
Tucked into a cobblestone side street down an alley, with windows and planters with hanging vines and colorful, blooming flowers bathed in warm sunlight, is a large, ornate wooden door with an understated but regal copper placard that reads, “Massimo Andreozzi.” Topher was instructed to knock only once, and almost immediately the door opens and we’re ushered inside. Within seconds, we’re offered espresso with lemon rinds and almond biscotti. It’s deceptively large inside, despite the narrowhallways, but it’s still not large enough for eight grown men. Massimo’s assistant, a tiny older woman with silver hair that spills in loose curls down her shoulders, is militant and directs each of us toward a small fitting room, but she must double us up. Topher gets his own while Tyler and Trav are in another, followed by Ricky and his father, me and Matty, and Benny is lucky enough to go solo.
“What about Cam?” Benny asks.
“I’m just along for the ride,” Cam says. “Apparently.”
“Sienna just booked the bridal party.” Guilt pulls at the corners of Topher’s lips. “Sorry, dude.”
