Page 25 of Fake Crown

How many years have I fluffed off people’s prying questions? Friends, casual hookups, guys who wanted more, none of them have gotten to the heart of the matter. But there’s something about Brent’s honesty that’s making me bold.

“One boyfriend. When I was fifteen.”

“And what was that like?” Brent asks.

“Claustrophobic.” I let out a little laugh, but the memory isn’t funny. “Smothering.”

“Ah.” He strokes my cheek. “So, not a good one.”

“Maybe.” I hesitate to say the word, but in my heart, I understand it’s true. “Abusive?” Julia labeled it that when we were younger, and I was aware enough of how I was eroding to break up with him. Not everyone is that lucky.

He skims his hand along my back, and it comes to rest on my hip. “Would make anyone wary.”

“Or scared,” I admit. “It might make someone scared too.”

He kisses my temple, and I close my eyes at the contact.

The tenderness between us is unnerving, and when he draws away, I snag his lips with mine. “How’s your recovery time?” I slip my hand between us to caress him, and he hardens on contact.

“Recovery time?” Brent asks, and the gentleness morphs into a cockiness I’m more comfortable with. “Recovery time is for wimps. I can race to the finish over and over again.”

“Oh yeah?” I press my body to his. “Prove it.”

In one swift motion, he rolls me onto my back, and our lips start the now familiar dance. Sex and mutual pleasure, I can do. No one needs to root around in my emotional baggage. The only things I’ll be unpacking from my luggage are more condoms.

Brent

Listening to Posey talk about her high school boyfriend last night was a punch to the gut. The notion of anyone treating her poorly stirs an unexpected protectiveness in me. Probably an emotion she wouldn’t welcome, but it’s there whether either of us are okay with it.

I adjust my tie in the mirror, and I hope the humidity comes down a notch before the ceremony. Otherwise I’ll be shedding my suit jacket the minute the reverend allows Trev and Imani to kiss.

“Christ, I’m nervous,” Trevor says from beside the window.

“About?” I haven’t called the stirring in the pit of my stomach nerves for years. Anticipation. The thrill of the chase. At the end of a race, I’ve either done it or I haven’t. Nerves have no place.

“Why did we invite so many people?” He stares at the gathering crowd.

We’re in a suite on the top floor of the hotel. Imani and her bridesmaids are getting ready in another room. It’s go time in three minutes.

Earlier, I left Posey by the pool, and I realized for the thousandth time I got lucky when she replied to my chat. She’s slotted herself into my weekend, into my life, as though she belongs. I don’t need to worry she’ll be bored or lonely. Wherever Posey goes, a crowd follows.

I catch a glimpse of her teal dress in the crush of guests. She’s talking to Wyatt and Ellie, and it looks like she’s managed to introduce herself to Sebastian Swan and his girlfriend Natalie. I’ve met them a handful of times at campus sporting events. The school likes to parade their stars at regular intervals, and while the football team might be tarnished, odds are Sebastian’s going pro.

“Just focus on Imani,” I say. It’s good advice. I can barely tear my eyes away from Posey below. “Treat it like a stage performance.”

“I much prefer acting in movies,” Trevor mutters.

“All right,” the wedding planner appears at the door, and the five of us in the room straighten. “We’re going down. Imani is prepped and ready to go. Let’s get married!”

Trevor tugs at his tie, and I pat him on the shoulder. “All those people down there are here because they like you.”

“Or they’re related to me or Imani.”

Fair point. Can’t choose family.

The wedding planner leads us through the hotel to the front of the neat rows of white chairs. The harbor is behind us, and I’m the last man in the row of best men. Just made the cut.

Despite what I said to Posey last night, I haven’t been great at keeping up with my friends either. Some, like Trevor, are understanding because their lives are busy too. But it isn’t just romantic relationships that have fallen by the wayside while I chase Olympic glory.