Page 83 of Boyfriend of the Hour

“Damn, you look good now that you’re out of that brace and shit,” Shawn said when I turned around after the woman had left with her drink. “Fuck, real good, baby. That shirt is fire. Looks even better on the bedroom floor, though.”

I glanced down at the clingy black top that wasn’t anything special but seemed to get me a fair amount of attention. The jeans too—the second-skin 501s I’d found at a thrift shop. It was a look straight out of a nineties Calvin Klein ad. Something that was last popular before I was even born. But a classic was a classic.

After all, it had kept Shawn looking at me like that for over a decade, hadn’t it?

I just wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

I turned to find Nathan studying the list I’d made earlier. Was he taking notes? Looking to see if I’d included shallow compliments like that?

I wanted to tell him not to listen to Shawn. That, as nice as it felt to hear men say I was pretty, it was the same shit I’d been hearing since I was a kid and pretty muchallI’d heard since. I was finally starting to value the idea that someone might actually want me for something else. Maybe even believe it.

And he’d done that over an awkward meal and some untouched drinks.

Suddenly, Nathan stood. His stool screeched on the battered wood floor loud enough that both Shawn and I jumped.

“Jesus, guy,” Shawn said. “Give a warning, why don’t you?”

Nathan ignored him. “I’m going home,” he told me. “I’ll see you?—”

I cut him off with a subtle shake of my head. The last thing I needed was Shawn figuring out where I lived. Who I lived with.

Well, maybe not the last thing. That was still a threat. And he was thankfully busy on his phone.

“Um, hold on. Let me close you out,” I said.

He waited, obviously confused, as I went to the cash register, and after a quick glance to make sure Shawn still wasn’t watching, jotted a quick message on a piece of blank receipt paper.

Please stay til he leeves.

I knew the spelling wasn’t right, but I didn’t have time to check it on my phone.

“Here’s your check,” I said loudly as I placed the note, folded like a tent, in front of Nathan. “Unless you want something else.”

Nathan opened the receipt, frowned immediately as he read it, then darted another worried glance at Shawn before shoving it in his pocket and immediately returning to his stool.

I hadn’t realized how fast my heart was beating until it finally slowed down.

Safe. That’s how Nathan made me feel.

I also hadn’t known that until now.

“Actually, I’ll have another drink,” he said. “My regular.”

I offered a grateful look and nodded my thanks before turning to pour him a glass of scotch I knew he wouldn’t even drink.

“I’ll have one too, baby,” Shawn said as he set his phone down. “Same as four-eyes right here. You don’t mind a little joke, do you, guy?”

I sighed but poured two of the same drinks.

Nathan stared at his, while Shawn took a long, noisy slurp. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“No, thankyou,” I murmured back. I hoped he knew what I meant by it.

“Yeaaaaah,” Shawn crowed after downing nearly half the very expensive scotch. “That’s the good stuff. Only Macallan for me.”

“You can close me out,” Nathan said again. “Um, again, I suppose.”

With a small smile, I took his credit card. Shawn, however, did not offer any form of payment. I waited. And waited.