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Leo was vaguely offended on Tristan’s behalf. “He’s not that bad!”
Harry laughed. “No, he is! That’s the point! We’re Bad Boyfriends. We have business cards and everything. Well, I’m not anymore, so it’s just Tristan. But people hire us to be bad dates. Not to have sex.” He flushed. “Who would hire me?—?”
“I would,” Jack said before he could even finish that thought.
“So, just to be clear, Tristan’s definitely not a rent boy?” Leo asked, his heart fluttering with something that shouldn’t have been a relief, but definitely was.
But it wasn’t Harry or Jack who answered him.
“No, darling,” Tristan said, leaning in the doorway looking resplendent in a kimono, his hair falling in twists and waves down his shoulders. “I’m not a rent boy. Rent boys are professionals who get paid. I’m just a talented amateur.”
Leo’s cheeks flushed and he resisted the urge to crawl under the table to escape his mortification. “Oh, Jesus.”
Tristan swanned into the kitchen. “I’ve been called worse.”
“Worse than a rent boy?”
“No, worse than Jesus. Nothing wrong with rent boys.” He sat down on Leo’s lap and grinned at Harry and Jack. “I see you guys have officially met my boyfriend. He’s a bit of a fucking idiot, but I like him.”
And that, Leo decided with a rush of relief, gratitude and embarrassment, he could live with.
Chapter Eleven
Tristan didn’t see Leo for the rest of the week because Leo was working, and he was surprised by how much he missed him. They texted, of course, and Tristan sent him dick pics just because he could, but it wasn’t the same as seeing him in person. Still, sending Leo dick pics was fun, because Tristan got to watch those three little dots that told him Leo was typing appear and disappear for upwards of half an hour before he finally got a response, which was usually something like “Thank you” or “I’m in a meeting right now” and one memorable time, “Is this fanart of Shrek? Because yours isn’t green.”
In the meantime, Tristan had uni, which kept him busy, and hanging out with Wei and Orlando at Pleasure Party, which kept him even busier, because there was nothing more time consuming than unloading a box of dildoes and giving every one of them a name and a backstory. Tristan didn’t actually work at Pleasure Party, but he’d spent long enough hanging around there that he was an unofficial member of staff, like those middle-aged ladies who volunteered at the zoo. He was sort of a docent for dicks.
“Orlando, have you ever thought about being a Bad Boyfriend?” he asked on Friday afternoon as they restacked a shelf.
“I am a fucking incredible boyfriend,” Orlando said, and puffed out his chest. “Look at me! I’m gorgeous!”
“There’s more to being an incredible boyfriend than pecs,” Wei said.
“I also have an amazing dick.”
Tristan and Wei exchanged a glance, and both shrugged. Yeah, it was true. They’d both been there.
“Are you thinking of expanding the business?” Wei asked.
“Thinking of passing it on, more like,” Tristan said. “I mean, it’s a lot of fun, but I’m graduating at the end of the year, and I’d have to quit then, anyway.”
“And you have a boyfriend now?”
“Yeah.” Tristan smiled. “I have a boyfriend now.” He really liked the way that sounded. “I’d like to take him out sometimes, but it’s hard when most of my weekends are Bad Boyfriend dates.”
“Aw, look at you. You’ve turned into a real boy.” Wei almost hit him in the head with an anal hook. “Oops, sorry.”
“I don’t want your silly Bad Boyfriend business,” Orlando said.
“Okay,” Tristan said. “I’ll have to find someone else who wants to earn up to eight hundred dollars a week. Tax free.”
Orlando dropped a box of dildoes. “How much?”
“Some weeks it’s a grand, if I squeeze in a lunch date and insult the grandparents.”
Wei blinked up at him. “You do not make that much money!”
“Yeah, I do.”
