Pretty Boy D: Chapter 5

Joss

“Well, that didn’t take long.”

I turn the phone toward Dane when we come to a stoplight. Pandora’s already starting with the rumors.

“Did you expect anything different?” he asks.

“Guess not, but I thought it’d take her more than eight hours to start running her mouth.”

He smirks and it dawns on me how naïve that was. Bitch is relentless. I can only imagine what she’ll have to say once it becomes public knowledge that Dane and I are sharing his loft.

Damn… we’re actually sharing the loft.

It’s really hitting me now, as we make our way through the city in the massive moving truck he rented. As much as I hate to say it, it’s almost serendipitous the way things worked out. Every single thing I needed, he had within reach—a place to lay my head, a job, this truck.

My gaze shifts toward him when the silver bracelet on his wrist glints in the sunlight. I’m again reminded why this time together won’t be easy. I’m a sucker for a guy with nice arms and damn if his aren’t amazing. As he grips the steering wheel, I see the results of all the extra weights he’s been lifting. Veins protrude beneath his tanned skin and my eyes travel higher, to where a t-shirt squeezes his bicep. I breathe deeply when I force myself to look away.

Why does he have to be so fun to look at?

Guess that’s why the internet branded him with Pandora’s moniker—Pretty Boy D.

Heaven knows he lives up to it.

We’re not too far from my house now and I’m admittedly terrified. Both my parents are at work, so it’ll just be us and eventually Sterling. Still, I feel like I’m about to rob the place, even though I’m only grabbing my own things.

We pull into my neighborhood and Dane punches in the gate code when I recite it to him. Then, we’re on the move again. The second we pull into the driveway, nausea sets in, but a tight squeeze to my hand has me looking Dane in his eyes. He’s smiling a little, and seeing it honestly does settle my nerves a bit.

“You made the right choice,” he says, reassuring me.

I nod, hoping like hell he’s right.

Before I lose the nerve, I hop out of the truck and move toward the door with my key in hand. Dane’s not far behind, trailing with flattened boxes, a roll of tape tucked beneath his arm, and a toolbox. We step inside and a wave of sadness hits me while disarming the alarm. Not because I regret the decision to remain in the city while my parents flee the country, but because the illusion has faded.

Not so long ago, I fell for it, believing we were a happy family. It made me blind to how hard my dad pushed me, how he wanted to dictate every single aspect of my life. But now that the smoke has cleared and I see our bullshit life for exactly what it is, the hole it’s left in my soul is hard to bear.

“Let’s get this over with,” I sigh, already needing to get out of here.

“Point the way.”

I smile a bit at Dane’s response, thinking how strange it is that he’s seeing my bedroom for the first time, after being friends for so long. The few instances Mom’s allowed him to visit when my dad was out of town, we only hung out in common spaces.

The privacy aspect of our friendship is grossly disproportionate. I’ve always been welcome inside Dane’s living spaces without restriction, but my father’s rules meant I had to keep him at arm’s length. But now that we’ll have the same address, I guess that’s sort of gone out the window.

“I heard a rumor about your bedroom once,” he says as we climb the stairs.

“This should be good. Tell me.”

“It is, actually. Apparently, you have a gold bust of yourself on a pedestal in the corner. That true?”

Smiling, I glance at him over my shoulder. “Well, I guess you’re about to find out.”

Not sure why, but my heart thuds harder inside my chest as I speak the words. It only quickens when we finally reach the end of the hallway and cross the threshold into my room.

It’s only been about a year since I updated the space. I swapped out my comforter, got rid of the frilly valences on both windows, added a large, vintage-style rug, and painted over the pink walls with a subtle gray. Now, with Dane standing beside me, I’m grateful I made those changes. Seeing as how it basically looked like a ten-year-old slept here before that.

“See? No bust. Just this watercolor portrait, but that doesn’t count. It was a gift.”

A gift from Carlos that he painted himself, but I don’t mention that part.

Dane takes slow steps, taking it all in.

“So, this is where all the magic happens,” I tease. “Or, where exactly no magic happens.”

He laughs at the obviously self-deprecating joke.

“Where should we start?” I ask.

He answers by handing me a few boxes. “If you want to assemble these and start filling them, I’ll work on taking apart some of the big stuff. Might take me a while.”

“Or I can help with that until Sterling shows up,” I offer, which has Dane’s brow shooting up.

With this whole thing being completely spur of the moment, West had plans, but Sterling’s supposedly on his way. Still, I don’t see the point in waiting.

Dane eyes me and, for a second, I think he’s about to say I’m not strong enough, but he only smiles.

“Up to you,” he says, popping his toolbox open to grab a screwdriver.

We work our way around the room—removing the mirror off my dresser and disassembling my bed. Then, I start taking my clothes from the closet and transferring them out to the rental, hanging them on the handy little racks across the back. Sterling pulls up right as I jump down from the truck bed, and the dark shades he wears are a dead giveaway of the turn his night took after leaving Dane’s.

He climbs out of his SUV and I have a super annoying idea.

“Hangover?” I ask as loudly and as close to his ear as possible.

“Fuck, Joss!” he barks back.

Laughing, I loop my arm with his and lead us toward the door. Tall as he is, what’s a slow pace for him is normal pace for me. We enter the house and I gaze up at him with a grin.

“What’s wrong? Too loud?”

“Real fucking cute,” he grumbles.

“Yeah, well, I try.”

If looks could kill, the one he just gave would’ve done me in.

“What’d you do? Throw a rager after you left the loft?”

“You could call it that,” he says with a grin. “Got a call on my way home and made a little detour. There were drinks involved. Lots and lots of drinks.”

He’s vague and I have a feeling I don’t want the details he’s holding back, so I don’t ask.

“Dane’s upstairs. I helped him take everything apart, so you should only have to help him bring it down.”

“Cool,” he says with a nod, walking the steps in sync with me. “So, you guys ready for this? Most couples don’t move in together until they’ve been official for a few months.”

He laughs and I shove him.

“Not funny.”

“I’d say it’s about as funny as your loud ass yelling in my ear, so I guess we’re even,” he gripes.

We make it to my room, and after a brief, vague conversation between him and Dane about whatever weirdness Sterling got into last night, we get back to work. I start by packing boxes, while the guys walk the furniture out. It doesn’t take long before the room begins to look empty. I try not to think too much about how strange it all feels. Besides, I only planned to live at home for the first semester anyway. After that, I would’ve made the shift to living on campus. Seeing as how my school of choice is still within the city, my parents eventually caved, coming around to the idea.

Still, knowing I’m leaving under these circumstances, with bad blood between me and them, it’s not easy.

I pass Dane on my way down with a box of books and he flashes a half-smile that’s right on time, right as my mood was beginning to dip. I don’t miss that he’s really excited about this, which has me thinking I was worried for nothing.

We can do this.

We’ve been friends for years and never crossed a line. This is no different.

I climb the ramp into the truck and set the books down before heading back inside. After stopping in the kitchen for a glass of water, I’m on my way upstairs again. My legs are definitely starting to get fatigued, but we’re nearly done. Too close to complain anyway.

I hear the guys shuffling around inside my room, likely still gathering stray items like they were when I’d last left them. I make it back just as Sterling’s reaching to the top shelf of my closet, grabbing down a box that instantly has my heart palpitating.

Because it’s not just any box.

It’s the box.

I try not to panic and call more attention to myself, try to fight the urge to lunge at Sterling, but OMG! This cannot be happening!

He shakes the black shoebox a bit, hearing the contents roll around inside. Contents that sound nothing like a pair of shoes. There’s a curious look on both his and Dane’s faces when he grips the lid, intending to peek inside, but that cannot happen. It’s like I’m having an out of body experience, leaping several feet across the room to grab it before he has the chance, but I’m completely out of my head right now, clumsy, uncoordinated.

Dane’s staring as the whole thing plays out, and I’m sure that, to him, it looks like I’m freaking out over absolutely nothing, but he’s so wrong about that. It’s definitely something.

Just at the idea of these two seeing what’s inside, I want to die a little. But the moment I have the box in my hands, just when I think I’m in the clear, the absolute worst thing that could happen does happen. I fumble it and can only stare in horror as it falls to the floor, landing upside down with a thud.

No, the guys don’t see what’s inside, but… they sure as hell can hear it, vibrating too loudly to deny whatever these two are thinking right now.

My hands fly to my face, hiding my shame. Or at least I’m trying to, but Sterling’s deep chuckle makes that impossible. I don’t hear Dane, but imagine he’s laughing, too.

“Damn, Joss. What kind of motor you got in that thing?” Sterling asks, barely able to get the words out as he laughs.

Kill.

Me.

Now.

Feeling like my face might actually go up in flames, I quickly stoop down to retrieve the box. Then, I turn my back to hit the off switch on the vibrator that’s just thoroughly ruined my life.

Thanks a lot, Victor.

Yes, I fucking named it.

The damage is already done, though. And if two Golden boys know my secret, the third will soon enough.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Sterling croons, his words slow and suggestive. “We all practice a little self-love every now and then, just… maybe not with power tools,” he adds, chuckling again, but a bit more subdued this time.

I’d never explain this to them, but Victor’s far from power-tool-status. Measuring at about the size of a finger, I like to think of him as small but mighty.

Sterling rests his arm around my shoulders, and I shrug from beneath it, following the action with a hateful glare. Somehow, that look morphs into a smile the longer I try holding it in.

Asshole.

“All right. Lay off,” Dane cuts in, scolding Sterling on my behalf—the guy who’s usually the mature one of the crew.

God, help us all if that’s true.

I finally look up at Dane just to see if his defending me was sincere or just to mask that he, too, had gotten a good laugh, but there’s no sign that he’s found anything amusing, which I do appreciate.

This is not the start I wanted us to have. I thought it’d be at least a few months before we had any embarrassing moments between us, but leave it to me to kick things off with a bang.

Or… a buzz.

Doing my own version of the walk of shame, I cradle the box to my chest and traipse down the stairs. Once I’m at the truck, I hide Victor deep underneath the passenger seat where he can’t get me into more trouble.

We finish up the job—mostly with me not looking either of them in the eyes—then I lock up and accept that it’s really time to move on.

Breathing deep, I stare at the front door. This is really happening. I’m really on my own.

Dane steps up beside me and slips his arm around my shoulder. Unlike with Sterling, I don’t shrug him off. Actually, I lean into him, accepting the comfort he offers. Seeing as how it felt like I’d fall apart a second ago.

He squeezes me a bit and I find myself feeling more grateful for his presence than usual. The look I get from him is one I don’t expect. It’s filled with emotion—sympathy, concern, warmth. Now, despite knowing I should turn away, I can’t.

“Thanks for making room for me,” I say, peering up at him.

That feeling he gave me a moment ago only deepens when he speaks, and I swear the words reach all the way down into my soul.

“I didn’t have to make room for you, Joss. You just fit. Always have.”

That settles on my heart, hitting me harder than expected. I finally understand the full scope of why we can’t afford to mess this up. What Dane just admitted was absolutely true. He and I are kind of perfect together, a perfect fit.

Just the way we are.