Page 98 of Elite Connections: an LGBTQ Romance Charity Anthology

It goesagainst every sentient cell in my body to admit it, but Liam is absolutely perfect.

His incredible good looks and his ability to charm the underwear off a nun, which was directed at recruiting people against me when we were growing up, are working in my favor for the first time.

He lazes on one of the loungers scattered around the infinity pool, chatting with my colleagues and their partners.

Everyone is oriented toward him, trying to get their share of his charm, although their attention might be partly focused on him because the sight of Liam in boardshorts is up there with one of the Wonders of the World.

I’ve always considered myself immune to his good looks because I know the personality lurking beneath, but I can’t deny he’s gorgeous. Messy medium-brown hair, hazel eyes, and a strong jawline. His skin is that perfect honey-bronzed tone of the naturally sun-kissed, like he’s the child of Helios, the god of the sun. He’s a personal trainer, so you’d expect him to have a good body, but the rippled muscles and the tantalizing hint of a V is next-level mouth-watering perfection.

I’m just starting to think that having Liam here might not be a complete catastrophe when Paul arrives at the pool, a towel casually slung over his neck.

I can’t help my shoulder’s stiffening.

Paul is good at his job, but he’s just started to make small digs at me disguised as jokes. It’s stuff that would seem pathetic if I called him out on it, but they’re starting to add up.

Maybe I’m overly sensitive because of my childhood spent dodging attacks from Liam. But with Liam and me, there was simple out-and-out animosity, not this subtle campaign of terror Paul’s leading, where he pretends to be supportive while chipping away at my authority. I have no idea what to do about it, how to reassert myself around someone with twenty years more corporate experience than me.

I’ve talked to my friend Andrew, who also came up with a tech idea when he was in college and turned it into a multi-million-dollar company, and he’s assured me it’s normal to sometimes feel like Frodo at the meeting of the Elves at Rivendell.

When I employed Paul, I’d hoped he could be Gandalf to my Frodo.

But instead, he’s turning out to be more of an orc.

Paul stops and blinks a few times as he takes in the sight of Liam sprawled on a lounger, surrounded by new devotees.

“Oh, I see we have a new arrival.” He plonks onto the spare lounger next to Liam and offers a hand. “Hi, I’m Paul.”

Liam gives him his trademark I-know-you’re-going-to-love-me grin as he reaches out to grab his hand. “Nice to meet you, Paul.”

Seeing my childhood nemesis shake hands with my malevolent employee feels like two worlds colliding, not in a good way. I know from being an astronomy geek that when planets collide, a rapidly spinning, donut-shaped mass of vaporized rock forms.

I really hope my life won’t be vaporized by the result of Paul and Liam meeting.

Paul withdraws his hand from Liam and throws a look at me. “So this is the boyfriend you’ve been so cagey about, Matthew. Aren’t you punching a bit above your weight? You’re not having to pay him, are you?” He laughs after he’s said the words, but I still take a sharp breath.

My cheeks instantly heat, and Paul’s eyes zoom in on my face. Shit.

I can’t help flicking a glance at Liam. If he wanted to, this is where he could derail everything by informing the group that, yes, I am actually paying for the privilege of his company. It would be Liam making the final, triumphant move in the war between us.

“I think if there was any money exchanged, I’d be the one paying Matthew,” Liam says smoothly, and my eyebrows fly upward.

Paul’s eyebrows also shoot up. His gaze flies between us, and he pauses for a moment before plastering on a smirk. “You obviously get to see some sides of Matthew we don’t see just from working with him.”

Liam gives a saucy wink. “I really hope none of you get to see my favorite sides of Matthew.”

There’s a titter of laughter from everyone besides Paul. My shoulders unclench.

Okay, so Liam is going to keep his promise to act like a proper boyfriend.

I settle back on my lounger and tilt my face to the sun, allowing myself to relax under the warm rays.

We hang out at the pool for a couple of hours and Liam continues his charm offensive, even getting Paul and Paul’s wife, Annette, to laugh at his jokes. I didn’t think it was possible, but his game seems to have gone up another level since high school.

Liam’s effortless charm has always infuriated me, but now it’s for my benefit, so I’m a conflicted mix of irritated and grateful when we finally head back to the villas to get changed for dinner.

“So? Are you happy with my performance so far?” Liam asks as soon as we’re inside the door.

“You can be remarkably charming when you want to be,” I concede. “Which really is a testament to your acting skills. Think you can keep it up tonight?”

“You know I can, baby.”

Just hearing Liam’s smooth voice causes my hackles to rise. It’s the voice that taunted me throughout my childhood and teenage years.

I cling to that fact as he pulls down his bathing suit and stands stark naked without a trace of self-consciousness as he rummages through his luggage for something to wear.

My throat goes dry.

Because…shit…Liam naked.

I have to summon up every ounce of willpower to not glance at the most perfect specimen of masculinity I’ve ever seen as I gather my clothes to take into the bathroom. As I make my retreat, Liam snorts derisively. “Seriously? You can’t handle even getting dressed in front of me? I hate to remind you, but I’ve shared locker rooms with you, Matthew, and I’ve always found the power to resist you.”

I spin back to face him. Thankfully, he’s pulled on pants, so it’s easier to keep my voice even as I reply, “It’s more like I don’t completely trust being naked around you. Maybe it’s childhood trauma from the time you stole all my clothes at Bradley Elton’s pool party and I had to walk home in my underwear.”

Liam just stares at me for a few heartbeats before returning to buttoning up his shirt.

“If you want to talk about clothing pranks, you might want to remember the itching powder incident,” he says finally.

I have to stop a smile of triumph coming over my face at that memory. I’d snuck into the locker rooms and had been quite liberal in sprinkling itching powder throughout Liam’s football uniform, with a large concentration in the crotch.

“I don’t believe they ever found the culprit of that stunt,” I say innocently.

Liam’s eyes narrow. Because we both know exactly who laughed the hardest at the sight of Liam almost dancing with torment during the game. I didn’t usually attend high school football games, but I made an exception for that one.

“We lost a game we should have won because of you and lost ourselves home-field advantage for the semifinals.

“It’s not my fault if you weren’t good enough at throwing a ball with a minor distraction of itching.”

Liam’s face darkens. His expression gives me flashbacks to when we were between eight and ten and wedgies and friction burns featured heavily in our interactions. I was a similar size and weight as Liam then, so I gave as good as I got.

While I’m not worried about Liam resorting to violence now, I still decide it might be a wise time to retreat to the bathroom.

Once inside, I rake my hand through my hair.

My pulse thuds in a familiar pattern. Interacting with Liam has always put my body at full attention, all my nerves primed in a fight-or-flight reaction.

I just need to get through this evening and the night, and then Liam will be back on a plane and this ordeal will be over.

When I emerge from the bathroom fully dressed, I can’t help my sharp intake of breath at the sight of Liam dressed in chinos and a dark-green button-down shirt. Why does my nemesis have to be so impossibly gorgeous?

“Ready?” I ask brusquely.

“As I’ll ever be,” he replies.

We go to walk through the door at the same time, then stop, hesitating.

Liam makes a dramatic ushering motion with his hands.

“Age before beauty,” he says.

“No, you go first,” I say.

It’s only after Liam’s partway through the door that I mutter the age-old insult, “Brawn before brains”

Liam turns back to glare at me.

We walk in silence down the sandy path toward the restaurant and bar, keeping as far from each other as physically possible. The resort is laid out so the bar and restaurant are right by the ocean, and the sun is painting the sky red and crimsons in a spectacular goodnight. The tranquil feeling such a beautiful setting should inspire in me fails to launch.

Through the glass window, I can see the other dozen members of our party are already milling around the bar, sipping on cocktails and chatting happily.

My stomach clenches at the thought of the evening of pretending that awaits.

Liam pauses in the doorway so I almost run into him.

“You realize you’re going to have to pretend you want me in close proximity,” he says in a low voice.

I quirk an eyebrow. “You want to touch me?”

“About as much as I want to catch rabies.” His voice is breathy in my ear like he’s whispering sweet nothings. “But this is all pretend, remember?”

“Oh, trust me, I’m never forgetting that fact,” I say behind a fake smile. “Fine. Just don’t get too close.”

“Are you worried I’ll bite?” he asks.

“No, I’m worried I will,” I reply.

He makes a noise that almost sounds like a choked-back laugh before he closes the distance between us, shuffling his body against mine.

I can’t help stiffening because having Liam in my personal space sends alarms shrieking through my body. There’s the threat alarm from my childhood because experience taught me that bad things were about to happen anytime Liam was so close. There’s also the desire alarm, where my cock overrides my brain and reminds me that Liam, despite everything, is a drop-dead gorgeous guy, who smells like an intoxicating mix of citrus and sandalwood.

I swallow hard and work on trying to look natural as we wander over to the bar. As we greet everyone, Liam moves his hand to the small of my back. His touch scalds me like an iron poker. And I have to call on every ounce of my self-control not to jerk away from him.

“What do you want to drink?” he asks.

“Ah, white wine, thanks.”

Liam keeps one hand casually on my waist as he orders my wine and a beer from the bartender.

It’s possessive.

And even though it’s fake, and it’s my enemy’s hand, there’s still something nice about having someone claim me like this.

It makes me realize what I’ve been missing out on. I haven’t been in a proper relationship for years because my job is all-consuming, and I seem to lack the ability to make it past small talk on any of the dating apps. I’ve mastered hook-up apps, but dating apps where you’re trying to convince the person they want to get to know you better? Utter fail.

But if I’m reacting this way to having my most loathed enemy touch me, then it’s a sign I need to put in more effort.

After we’ve gotten our drinks, Liam manages to slip effortlessly into conversation with my colleagues. Soon, he has Henrietta, my chief financial officer, along with Raj, my Director of marketing, and Raj’s partner, Latisha, engaged in a lively conversation about predictions for the upcoming NBA season.

I stand next to Liam, not adding anything to the conversation—sports aren’t really my thing, but if someone wants an in-depth discussion on the merits of various Marvel films, I’m their guy—until the ma?tre d’ tells us our table is ready.

Once we’re seated at the table, Liam slides into an effortless conversation with Neil, my operations manager, and his partner, Jules, about their house renovations.

And I find myself flicking glances at his handsome face as he charms two more people.

I’m not admiring him. I’m just appreciating his skillset and ability to get along with everyone and make it look so easy. It’s something I wish I was better at.

“Have you decided what you would like to order, sir?”

Shit, the waiter is here, and I’ve been too caught up watching Liam to pay attention to the menu.

I do a quick scan.

“Uh, I’ll have the steak, medium rare, please. But can I have the mushroom sauce in a separate dish on the side, please?”

I know it’s weird, but I always like to control the sauce-to-steak ratio.

Paul leans back in his chair on the other side of the table, offering me an indulgent smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as fussy about food as Matthew. Most people grow out of their fussiness, but our boy wonder hasn’t hit that stage yet.”

I flush as the attention of everyone at the table is directed toward me.

“It’s one of the things I actually like most about Matthew,” Liam pipes up.

Paul’s eyebrows shoot up. “What, his fussiness?”

“Yes, Matthew’s very particular, so it makes me feel great that he’s chosen me to be his boyfriend.”

Liam puts his hand on mine and gives me a smile, and I’m drawn into his hazel eyes for an instant before I blink and pull back.

Fuck. He is really good at the fake-boyfriend thing. I’m not sure if it’s a deliberate attempt to move the conversation on from my fussiness, but Liam then launches into a story about his trip to Europe and his inability to communicate with the locals when his car broke down in a mountainous region of France, leading to some hilarious hand-gesture conversations.

After our meals arrive, I use the clinking of cutlery and plates to mask my whisper.

“You’re doing great.”

“That’s because I am great,” he whispers back.

I roll my eyes. There’s the Liam I know and loathe.

When I look up, I see Paul is watching us with a contemplative expression.

I gulp and shuffle closer to Liam, giving him a wide, fake smile.

But I continue to feel Paul’s scrutiny on us for the rest of dinner.

As the waiters clear our dessert plates, Paul disappears from the table.

Where has he gone?

Why am I so nervous just because I don’t know where one of my team has gone? I’m paranoid to think Paul is plotting against me. He might simply have gone to use the restroom.

Still, despite the rational argument my brain is making, the crème br?lée I’ve just eaten swirls in my stomach.

And it soon becomes apparent my stomach has a good reason to let the nerves out to play because when Paul returns to the table, he’s wearing a Cheshire Cat grin.

“Great news, everyone. I’ve lined up some surprise entertainment for this evening.”

My forehead creases. “What surprise entertainment?”

“A couples’ quiz. The resort has a free staff member, and they’ve agreed to run their usual couples’ quiz for us. Apparently, it’s always loads of fun.”

“That wasn’t on the itinerary,” I say stiffly.

“Oh, Matthew, you’ve got to stop being such a stick-in-the-mud. Just because something isn’t planned doesn’t mean it isn’t a good idea.”

My breath is knocked away from me. There’s an obvious subtext to Paul’s words because I’d recently challenged him for bringing up things in a meeting that weren’t on the agenda.

“Besides,” Paul continues, his eyes gleaming. “Don’t you think it will be fun to discover how well you and Liam know each other?”

Oh shit. That’s why he’s doing this. He’s suspicious about our relationship, and he’s trying to catch us in a lie.

“We’ve only been dating a month,” I say slowly.

“Best month of my life,” Liam says. His eyes meet mine, and I can see his concern.

Is our whole charade about to unravel? Can I handle the utter humiliation if my team discovers I had to hire someone to be my boyfriend?

It looks like that’s a large possibility as we head to the lounge, where the room is set up like a gameshow, with high tables and stools on either side and a large projector on a whiteboard between, proudly announcing, Welcome to Serenity Bay’s Couples’ Quiz!

“Hi, I’m Mindy,” a blonde resort staff member says in an upbeat voice. “I’ll be running your couples’ quiz tonight. Couples need to split up, and then we’ll get started.”

Damn. They’re separating us. Cheating was the only viable idea I had.

Sharing one last troubled look with Liam, I head over to the table on the left-hand side of the room while Liam joins the right-hand table.

Henrietta settles on the stool next to me, grinning.

“This should be fun,” she says.

“Um…yeah. Fun,” I reply as Mindy comes over to hand us each a small whiteboard and pen. There’s space for us to put down our own answer and then also guess our partner’s answer.

“You guys ready?” Mindy asks.

“Definitely,” Paul says. I see him throw a grin at his wife, Annette, who’s across the room. Of course he’s grinning. They’ve been married for twenty years.

The screen lights up with the first question.

What is your partner’s favorite movie?

My eyes dart across the room to find Liam staring at me.

Favorite movie of Liam’s. Shit. I have no idea. What movies do jocks like?

“You’ve got a minute to write down your own answer plus your partner’s answer,” Mindy informs us.

I scramble to write down my answer, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Rings, and then stare at the blank space where I’m supposed to fill in Liam’s answer.

I don’t like failing quizzes. It goes against my core nerd identity.

“Ten seconds left,” Mindy says.

Shit. I scribble down The Bourne Supremacy. It seems like a Liam kind of movie.

“Right, reveal your answers to your partner, and we’ll see how well you know their movie preferences,” Mindy says.

We all obediently flip over our boards. My eyes zoom to Liam’s answers.

Under partner’s favorite movie, in Liam’s messy handwriting, is The Lord of the Rings.

My breath leaves me. How the hell did he know that?

It turns out Liam’s favorite movie is The Shawshank Redemption, so we only get half of the points on offer.

None of my colleagues seem interested in our score though. Because it turns out that even couples who’ve been together for years don’t know each other’s favorite movies.

Paul’s wife seems slightly perturbed that Paul put down The Shining as her favorite movie when her favorite is actually Little Women.

“I couldn’t even make it through The Shining,” she reminds him.

“Right, let’s move on,” Mindy says in an upbeat voice. I get the feeling she’s seen it all running this quiz.

The next question flashes on the screen.

What is the name of your partner’s favorite childhood pet?

My shoulders relax slightly.

Okay, this is an easy one for Liam because he spent most of his childhood trying to pretend my dog Max was his. Unfortunately, Max was a golden retriever whose first loyalty was to his stomach, so he happily allowed himself to be lured next door by Liam.

The battle over Max was an arena of war in which neither of us ever relented.

Liam never had his own dog in all the time I knew him, but I have a vague memory of Liam writing something in elementary school about the dog that he’d had before he moved to Bainfield. Holly? Molly?

I go for Molly.

“Right, time to reveal your answers,” Mindy says.

I flip my board over, my eyes instantly seeking Liam’s board, and sure enough, his favorite childhood pet was Molly.

His eyes widen as he stares at my board.

Our answers perfectly match each other. Two points.

Our triumph is drowned out by Henrietta’s annoyance that her boyfriend, Carl, didn’t remember the name of the cat she had growing up.

Hmm. Paul has sold the concept of a couples’ quiz as fun. I’m not sure it’s quite panning out like that.

Mindy presses the button to display the next question on the screen.

What is your partner’s least favorite food?

Okay, I’ve got this one sorted. Liam always had a weird grudge against carrots, a fact I exploited when my mother made me invite him to my ninth birthday party, and I requested carrot cake, carrot star bites, carrot sticks, and carrot muffins as my snack food.

And he knows my least favorite food is peanut butter due to my mild nut allergy that makes me break out in hives, something he took full advantage of at every opportunity.

Sure enough, we get that right about each other.

We get our favorite foods correct, too, because I know Liam’s obsession with almonds, and apparently, he’s clocked my preferences for eating curly fries at any opportunity.

The questions continue, and I begin to relax. Because it turns out that spending years plotting the downfall of someone means you acquire a lot of knowledge about them.

I knew I was an expert in app design. It turns out I am also an expert on Liam Jamieson.

It helps that whoever designed the questions for the quiz obviously believes that knowing your partner well means knowing intimate details from their childhood. I mean, who normally tells their partner the name of their favorite childhood toy?

But Liam knows about my teddy bear, Mr. Gruffles, and I know about his cuddly giraffe called Looney because of the fourth-grade kidnapping and ransom saga that ended with both of us in the principal’s office.

We know each other’s first jobs because how could I forget Liam’s arrogant face charming all the customers from behind the counter at Poppa’s Pizza? It became my favorite Friday night entertainment to walk into Poppa’s just before closing and order the most complicated pizza possible when I knew he was trying to clean up for the night.

He knows all about my mailer delivery run because he once sabotaged my bike, which meant I couldn’t deliver the flyers on time, and as a punishment, his dad had made him deliver all my flyers on foot.

Even the quick-fire round, when we have a choice between two options of our partner’s preferences, is fairly easy.

Somehow, I know he’s a night owl while he knows I’m a morning person. I know he prefers video games while he knows my preference is board games.

We both prefer the beach over the mountains and, somehow, we know that about each other too.

“You said you guys have only been dating for a month. How do you know this stuff about each other?” Henrietta asks curiously as Mindy flashes the scoreboard before the final round that shows Liam and I are tied for first place with Paul and Annette.

Shit. Maybe we’ve done the opposite of what I was concerned about. Maybe we’ve made my employees suspicious because it looks like we’ve studied fact sheets on each other.

“We’ve spent a lot of time talking,” I mutter.

“From the moment I met him, it felt like he’s been part of my life forever,” Liam says smoothly at the same time.

I glance at him, and Liam’s hazel eyes lock onto mine. I can’t read the look on his face. And I don’t know what he’s seeing in my expression either. Has it also been bizarre for him to discover exactly how well we know each other?

“Are you ready for the final question?” Mindy asks.

“Bring it on,” Paul says grimly. He’s grown more and more subdued as the quiz has gone on.

“Right, for ultimate bragging rights, here’s the final question.”

It flashes up on the screen.

What do you admire most about your partner, and what do you think your partner admires most about you?

My stomach sinks.

Oh shit. How do I answer that? Can I just put down an N/A answer? Because I don’t think there is anything Liam admires about me.

And I’m supposed to come up with something I admire about Liam?

“Twenty seconds left,” Mindy says, and I realize I’ve just been staring blankly at my board.

I write his charm. After all, isn’t that what I’ve been admiring about Liam today?

But what do I think he most admires about me? I can’t think of anything Liam would ever admire me for, so I quickly scrawl my brain at the last moment before Mindy tells us to put our pens down.

“Are you ready for the final reveal?” she asks.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I mutter.

“All right. You know the drill. Flip them over.”

Liam and I both flip our whiteboards at the same time. My gaze flies to his.

Liam’s written my biceps for what he thinks I most admire about him, but he’s written his intelligence for the thing he admires the most about me.

What the hell?

Our gazes catch. For a second, something throbs in the air between us. Liam admires my intelligence? Or did he just write that because he thought that’s what I’d write? And does he honestly think his biceps are the part of him I admire the most, or did he just think I’d write that? My thoughts are a chaotic, messy tangle.

“Congratulations, Liam and Matthew, you are the winners,” Mindy says.

I snap back to attention. “What?”

“I’m giving you the intelligence/brain answer, so you are our winners.” She gives me a big smile.

I glance at Paul and Annette’s boards, but their answers don’t match.

Liam and I have won the couples’ quiz.

Which is such a ludicrous result that it’s up there with sushi ice cream.

None of my team members are focused on our victory though. Instead, the main focus of conversation as we head out of the room is the questions their partners got wrong.

I wonder if the resort offers couples counseling services as well? It feels like it could be a lucrative side hustle for them.

“Well, it’s fair to say that was an utter triumph,” Liam says once we’re alone on the pathway leading to our villa. Tropical gardens sprawl on either side of us, the path lit by tiki lanterns.

I can’t help asking one of the many questions bubbling inside me. “How did you know my favorite movie?”

“Dude, you used to have Frodo pajamas, and you nicknamed me Sauron for half of high school. It wasn’t a stretch. But how the hell did you know the name of my old dog?”

“I think you wrote something about her in elementary school. Maybe fifth grade?” I say.

He stares at me for a few moments. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

I feel my cheeks heat under his scrutiny. “I remember all kinds of random stuff.”

“I guess I am pretty unforgettable,” he says.

I snort. “That’s one way of putting it.”

We reach the villa.

“Thank you,” I say begrudgingly as we step inside. “That went better than I expected.”

“What’s with that guy, Paul?” Liam asks. “It seems like he’s really trying to get at you.”

I heave a sigh, rubbing my forehead. “I don’t know what’s going on with him. He’s a valuable team member with a lot of experience, but lately, he’s started doing that more and more, finding ways to dig at me.”

“Well, I guess there is a whole lot of material he can use,” Liam says as he flops onto the couch.

I roll my eyes. “Thanks.”

There’s silence between us. I stand there awkwardly, studying the tiled floor. What should I do now? Somehow, the thought of sitting next to Liam on the couch has my muscles clenching.

“I can stay if you want,” he says.

I snap my head up to stare at him. “What?”

“I’m happy to stay for the full week.” He shrugs. “I kind of need the money, and I’ve already arranged for someone to look after my gym clients.”

“Do you honestly think we can spend a whole week together without bloodshed?”

He shrugs again. “We handled today okay, didn’t we? We kept it professional.”

He’s right. I can’t fault the show we put on tonight.

And surprisingly, I haven’t been as worried tonight as I would have been if I was fake dating a stranger. I’m not concerned about what my fake date is thinking about the whole situation. There’s no way I can lower Liam’s estimation of me.

For a business arrangement, it actually works.

There are a whole lot of couples’ activities planned this week, so I can’t deny it would be nice to have a fake boyfriend for those.

“We’ll play it on a day-by-day basis,” I say slowly. “You’ll need to seed the idea that you’re worried about Granny Dearest, though, so it’s not so abrupt if you do leave.”

His eyebrows fly up. “Does your mind always go to evil mastermind strategies? Like, are you always thinking everything through a million steps ahead of where you need to be?”

“Do you not remember me well enough to answer that question yourself?” I retort.

“Oh, trust me, I remember.” Liam says the words like they’re weighed down with something.

He breaks eye contact, glancing around the villa.

“So I’m sleeping on the couch, right?”

“Ah, yeah.”

As he gets spare bedding out of the closet and makes a bed on the uncomfortable-looking couch, I feel slightly bad that I have a super-king bed all to myself.

But what’s the alternative? Invite him to sleep in my bed?

This is Liam, I remind myself. This is the guy who once told our entire fifth-grade class that I still wore trainer underwear and planted some in my locker as backup proof.

Really, I should be making him sleep outside with the crabs.