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Linc wasn’t sure what he’d expected when Wyatt opened the door, but it wasn’t a sullen fallen angel with sparkling green eyes and a riot of blond curls. He was all sleek muscle and sharp edges, lithe like he’d gotten those muscles swimming laps in the pool, not hitting the weights at the gym. His features were almost…delicate. High cheekbones and a perfect jawline. He was…he was pretty. Beautiful, even. Sculptors spent lifetimes trying to create that kind of perfection.
Even the ones who were gay were so deep in the closet they were frolicking with woodland creatures in Narnia.
He could never look Linc in the eye again. Like, who said shit like that? Not straight guys. And definitely not to another straight dude. He couldn’t ‘no homo’ his way out of this.
“If you’ve got something I’ve never seen, I’ll throw a dollar at it,” he promised, his voice far more gravelly than Wyatt remembered.
The boy would do anything Linc wanted, he knew it in a way he’d never be able to explain to another soul. Wyatt was his; his to kiss, his to fuck, his to protect and discipline.
She looked like she’d just stepped off a cruise ship. “Hey, new security dude whose name I don’t remember,” she sang with a wave. Linc covered the mic on his phone. “Hey, future real housewife whose name I don’t remember,” he called, giving her back the same wave.
Wyatt wasn’t trying to quote lame movies but Linc was definitely his particular brand of heroin, and Wyatt was afraid he’d be chasing that high forever.
His brows went up at her murderous expression, and he took a step back, voice firm. “Full disclosure, Malibu Barbie. If you punch me in the face again, I’m gonna toss you in the pool.” She narrowed her eyes. “Punch you in the face? I’m two seconds away from shoving my taser up your ass.”
“If there’s any karma in this world, your dad will get face raped by a chainsaw,” she swore. “God willing,” Linc muttered.
“Do you want—” Linc started. “Yes,” Wyatt interrupted. Linc tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.” Wyatt’s hands flailed. “Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter what you were going to say. The answer is yes. Whatever you want…I’ll always say yes.”
“Oh, do shut up, Martha. Wearing sensible shoes doesn’t make a woman a feminist or a lesbian any more than wearing that hideous yellow dress makes you a goddamn banana,” Violet snarked, shaking her head. “I swear, with women like you, I don’t know why my mother fought so hard to win the right to vote.”
“Really, Violet. I’m just saying, some of those women out there were holding signs about their right to kill babies. That will never be okay in the eyes of God.” Violet cackled. “If only your mother had chosen that road, dear.”
Wyatt rolled back over, nestling his head next to Linc’s before snapping a pic. Wyatt looked mussed. Linc looked like he’d died in his sleep.
You tell me every day that you love me, even if you don’t say it out loud.”
