All For Show: A Fake Boyfriend Gay Romance Read online

  Nat’s cheeks flushed a bit as he studied the rim of his water glass intently.

  “That would definitely be simpler,” he said. “But if I wait for that to happen, it could be eons before I have a decent house. Besides, the dating world is so…complicated.” He made his fingers into a knot, as though to demonstrate how complicated it was. “And then… How do you even meet people? I have no idea. I mean, I don’t know any single people. Most of my friends have already found somebody. I even thought about using a dating app, but they’re all geared to hook-ups, not kitchen makeovers.”

  “Single guys do exist. They are out there. Mr. Thurgood and I ogle them at the dog park frequently.”

  Mr. Thurgood barked, as if in agreement.

  There was something Nat wasn’t telling me. I don’t mean that there was anything sinister about him, but I thought again about the way he always stood near the bookcases at parties. What if he was just too shy to ever ask anyone out? I wondered if this conversation was a big effort for him. Maybe that’s why he looked so nervous. But I knew a million guys who went for that look, that boyish, nerdy look.

  “In any case,” he said, “I could hardly just jump into a real relationship on such short notice, and the show basically said no relationship, no kitchen makeover.”

  “Seems like a lot of trouble for a kitchen renovation.”

  “In my defense, it’s a really bad kitchen.”

  “Okay,” I said, “but while that tells me what you’re getting out of it...what do I get?”

  He looked at me with a startled expression, like I’d just given him an invoice. “I didn’t think about that. What...I mean, I don’t have a lot of money, otherwise, I could just hire someone to do the kitchen. But I can understand that this is sort of a transaction. What do you...want?”

  I fed Mr. Thurgood another snow pea and pondered the question. “You know, there is something… I guess you know my ex-boyfriend, Dr. Harris Hanks, Neurosurgeon.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Harris is always concerned about me. We broke up ages ago, but he’s always trying to find out how I’m doing. He’s convinced that if he doesn’t keep tabs on me, I’m going to lock myself in my apartment and never come out, shuffling around using Kleenex boxes as shoes. Meanwhile, he is living with his gorgeous boyfriend in a constant ray of sunshine. So your evil scheme here may benefit me too.”

  Nat nodded. “You want to convince Harris that you’re stable and don’t need to be checked in on.”

  “What? No! I want him to be seething with jealousy! I want him to see us on television and rue the day he broke up with me! Not serious enough to maintain a relationship, he said! Too selfish to take other people’s feelings into account, he said! I’ll show him who’s too selfish!”

  Everyone on the sidewalk was looking at us. Nat’s eyes were wide. I blinked, smiled, and fed Mr. Thurgood another snow pea. “It’s a decent plan,” I said, more quietly.

  3

  Nat: Ground Rules

  We were walking to the dog park. Owen said Mr. Thurgood couldn’t go a Saturday without visiting his friends there. I had to admit he was a pretty cute dog; I’ve always been partial to dogs with smooshed faces, and Mr. Thurgood carried himself with dignity and poise.

  The sun was out, and the streets were beginning to get a little crowded with sightseers. It would’ve been a nice day to be out with a friend, walking a dog, watching the people go by. Naturally, rather than enjoy this, I was getting nervous.

  I wasn’t the kind of guy who took walks with guys who looked like Owen. He had this light, confident step, looking around at the town like he owned it. I wanted to touch his hair. It looked soft, brushed up into this happy mess.

  I basically have one strategy when I’m around a guy who is cute: Run away. Maybe not that drastic. Stand around and say awkward things I’ll regret later on. Yeah, that was more like it.

  “He’s a gold-star gay dog, you know,” said Owen as we walked. “Never has he humped a female dog. Only boys.”

  “That’s...” I started, but then couldn’t think of a word to put with it. Was I blushing? Oh god, I was blushing. Remember your kitchen, I told myself. You can do this! Even if he is a little quirky!

  I watched as Mr. Thurgood pranced ahead with delight as the dog park came into view, and as Owen ran ahead, I couldn’t help but hang back a bit to watch him.

  When we reached the dog park, Owen let Mr. Thurgood off the leash, and the Boston went bounding through the park, his tongue hanging out, eager to play with his friends. Owen pointed out a bench, and we had a seat. He had one of those bodies made for lounging, long and easy to drape over the furniture. I tried to keep my mind on the plan. It didn’t matter if he was hot, because that wasn’t the point.

  “So if we’re doing this,” I said, “maybe there should be some ground rules.”

  “I was about to say exactly the same thing,” said Owen.

  “I just think it’ll be more comfortable for both of us if we know exactly what we’re doing, and what we’re not doing.”

  “I couldn’t have said it better myself. Firm boundaries are the thing. Good fences make good neighbors.”

  “Because it’s an unusual thing we’re doing.”

  “To put it mildly,” agreed Owen.

  “And we should avoid any misunderstandings.”

  “I desire nothing less than perfect pellucidity. I’m glad that’s settled, then.” He sat back on the bench, looking up at the summer sky. His knee brushed against my thigh as he settled back. I felt a surge of electricity at the touch, and I became acutely aware of just how long it had been since I had been touched by a man.

  “Wait, though. What were the rules, exactly?”

  I cleared my throat and willed myself to regain composure. “Well, for one, I feel we should emphasize, to ourselves and to our friends, that this isn’t a real relationship.”

  Because, I reminded myself sternly, this was only a means to an end, a pretense, all for show.

  “They will all be in on the scam, as it were,” Owen agreed.

  “I just don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

  “No, of course not, that would be--wait.” He turned to look at me and raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “What?”

  “Just then, when you said the wrong idea.”

  Oh no. Had I offended him? His face was so still and steady. What if he was secretly mad? What if I’d said something awful without realizing it?

  Calm down! I told myself. This was exactly why my conversations with cute guys always went wrong. I got flustered so easily.

  “Well, you know,” I fumbled aimlessly, “I mean obviously, I…”

  “It sounded like you meant, I don’t want anyone thinking that I would be with someone like you, Owen.” His eyes narrowed.

  “No, no!” I said. “That’s not what I meant! Not at all! No, see--”

  When he burst out laughing, I felt like I might melt straight into the ground into a puddle of embarrassment.

  “I’m messing with you!” he said.

  “Oh my god, you had me so worried! I thought I’d said something awful!”

  His face grew still and sinister again. “Maybe you did.” And even though I knew he was joking, he looked so serious, I felt bashful and guilty again.

  Wait. Was he...was he flirting with me? I was so uncomfortable! Surely I was wrong. Guys like Owen didn’t flirt with guys like me.

  “Besides,” I said, “no one would believe we were together.”

  “See, a moment ago I was joking, but I can’t help but note you keep circling around this point. You’re going to give me a complex at this rate.”

  I started to tell him that it wasn’t him who had the complex, but you can’t go around telling virtual strangers all your self-defeating emotional problems, can you? Instead, I slouched forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “The producer was very insistent that it not look like we have a fake relationship. She says it’
ll be very easy to tell, on TV.”

  “But actors do it all the time.”

  “That’s what I said! But we’re not actors. So we have to fake enthusiasm and everything as well.” I shook my head. “I don’t know, maybe this is a bad idea. I don’t know how to pretend to like someone.”

  “I’m an old-fashioned guy,” said Owen. “I believe in pretending to hold hands at least six months before pretending to kiss.”

  “Oh, god, do you think they’ll make us kiss?”

  “I mean, they can’t make us. Or...can they? You’re sure this isn’t some sort of porn?”

  He looked so calm and unconcerned about everything, looking off at the dogs and the guys, the sun glinting off his hair, a bright smile on his face. Oh god, even his teeth were pretty. This was awful! Why couldn’t he be a little bit ugly?

  Seriously, I’m laying down the law here, I told myself. If you let yourself like this guy, you’re going to ruin everything! The way you always do!

  It wasn’t exactly a relaxing thought. In fact, I began to think of excuses for me to leave, before I embarrassed myself. Would it be awful of me to call the show and cancel, so I never had to be around Owen again, never had to risk saying something stupid around him? Why was I always so nervous around cute guys? Nervous isn’t attractive! Nobody likes nervous!

  But before I could do anything ridiculous like running away, my phone rang.

  “Dude,” said the voice from the phone. “What the hell?”

  “Marcus? Is that you?” Marcus was my downstairs neighbor.

  “You have seriously got to get home right now. What do you think you’re doing?”

  For a second I thought he was talking about this conversation I was having with Owen, and he sounded so mad that I felt guilty. But that didn’t make any sense. Owen gave me a questioning look, and I shrugged.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Marcus.

  “Seriously, get home now, or I call the cops. Or my lawyer.”

  I said to Owen, “I think I have to go.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “I don’t know what’s going on. My neighbor sounds furious, though, and I need to go see what’s happening.”

  “Okay...? I guess Mr. Thurgood and I will stay here, then?”

  I was glad he said that. I’d been halfway worried that he’d want to come with me. At least now I wouldn’t have to worry about embarrassing myself around him.

  4

  Nat: Back to Square One

  When I got home I saw a note on my door. Nat, what the hell is going on in there? Call me. It was signed by Marcus.

  I felt a little queasy when I saw it, on top of all the other feelings jostling inside me. Marcus was usually a nice, laid-back guy, a little too much of a jock for my tastes, but we’d always gotten along. Everybody knew he had something to do with Cal and Edgar’s breakup, although no one was really clear on whether he’d slept with Cal, or Edgar, or maybe both of them. But he was the kind of guy who easily sailed through that kind of storm; our group found it easy to forgive guys with sun-bleached hair and sun-bronzed skin.

  He didn’t go around leaving angry notes, though, and he certainly didn’t threaten to call the cops on you! I was already on edge from the conversation I’d had with Owen, so the note just made me feel jumpy and nervous. I walked back downstairs and rang his bell.

  “Dude,” he said when he opened the door. “You bought that place, right?”

  “You mean my condo? Yeah...?”

  “That’s what the super said when I asked him about the leak.”

  “What leak?”

  Marcus ushered me in, and we walked to his kitchen. Somehow, even though his kitchen was the same size as mine, it looked a lot better. Lots of brushed aluminum and black appliances. I couldn’t imagine him cooking. I wasn’t allowed to just stand there and admire how much better his place was than mine, though, because he pointed at the ceiling, and my heart sank as I saw the dark circle of water. A drop was gathering in the middle of the circle; I watched it grow, then fall with a splat onto his sink.

  “You’re going to destroy my ceiling,” he said.

  “I didn’t even know there was a leak.”

  “How could you not know? It’s your plumbing doing it.”

  I shrugged. “I honestly had no idea.”

  “Well, get it fixed. Today. I have people coming over, and I can’t have the ceiling crashing down on me.”

  I rushed back upstairs and went straight to my kitchen. I paused for a second and listened. Sure enough, I heard a steady drip...drip...drip.

  It wouldn’t be right to say I despaired, exactly. But I did feel this creeping sense of worry as I knelt at the cabinet under the sink. The cabinet door squeaked as I pulled it open.

  Water splashed out of the cabinet, onto the floor. I jumped up quickly to avoid getting wet, which struck me as about the most useless reflex possible. I knelt back down. The cold-water supply that fed the sink was dripping, and apparently had been for some time. Everything in the cabinet was soaked. And sure enough, there was a sad little depression that had sunk into the bottom of the cabinet, which would be right about where Marcus saw the ceiling problem.

  At least it was something I could probably fix myself. I reached in to turn off the water supply. I gave it a strong clockwise turn--and water shot out at me, spraying all over me. The valve had come loose in my hand. I knelt there in shock for a second, watching gallons of water pour out before I realized I had a real crisis to deal with.

  I ran to the utility closet where my water heater lived. The condo had a cut-off valve here, and I turned it, listening to it hiss as it stopped the water flow. Then I gathered a bunch of towels.

  I barely made it to the kitchen when there was a pounding on my door. “Nat! Nat! What the hell, man, are you sending even more water down on my head?”

  Marcus was furious when I opened the door. “I thought I told you to fix it!”

  “I’m trying,” I said. He followed me to the kitchen and watched me dump the towels onto the floor.

  “Jeez, Nat, your place is a dump.”

  “Yes, I realize that.”

  “That is a lot of water.”

  I explained the problem with the valve. “I’ll have to get a plumber over. I can’t even use my water until it’s fixed.”

  I thought about Kitchen Miracles. They could have fixed this. I could have had shiny new plumbing that would never break. Could have. But I couldn’t do it, could I? I couldn’t be around Owen without coming across as jittery and insecure. I couldn’t let him know I was attracted to him, but if I tried to hide it, I was just going to be weird around him. Why would he want to spend the week with someone like me?

  I really was going to have to cancel my appearance on the show.

  Marcus wished me good luck--I think he found it hard to stay mad when he realized how dismayed I was--and headed back out.

  I then spent the next half hour trying to find a plumber who would come out on a Saturday. The only one who would even return my message wanted so much money to come out today that I blanched. In a panic, I told him I’d call him back, and hung up.

  What was I going to do? My perfect little plan of getting a new kitchen was ruined. I’d have to fill up my credit card getting someone over here to fix the valve, or worse, try to do it myself, when I had no idea what I was doing. And I’d have to have someone replace the soaked cabinet, and fix the spot over Marcus’ ceiling. All that money, and I’d still be dealing with this horrible floor and ugly cabinets and bloated counters.

  Buying this place had been a mistake. Half the time I was able to ignore that thought, but it was always creeping around me, taunting me with what a failure at adulthood I was. I’d bought it to prove to myself that I was a grown-up, without doing all the necessary grown-up thinking about it first.

  Worse, I couldn’t help but feel like the condo was part of why I was so lonely lately. I’d made a bad decision, and didn’t want anyone to know. They’d see how
I lived, and start to wonder what else was wrong with me.

  I had to shake myself out of this. Moping never solved anything. I’d just have to suck it up and call the plumber.

  Before I could, the phone rang.

  5

  Owen: A Growing Sense of Concern

  I could not bring myself to look at the men at the dog park. Normally a highlight of my day, I was so shaken by Nat that I just wasn’t in the mood anymore. Relaxed Saturday Guy had been replaced by something troubled. The conversation had been strained. I thought I was being my usual charming self, but with every word, I saw Nat getting more and more turned off. It put a dark cloud over my day. I whistled for Mr. Thurgood and put his leash back on. He looked up at me questioningly, wondering why we weren’t staying the whole afternoon. “I’m afraid I’ve been gravely wounded,” I told him, and he licked my hand in sympathy.

  The whole walk back home, I was silently thoughtful, which is a bit unusual for me.

  What had happened back at the park? Nat had been talking about not wanting other people to think we were in a real relationship. I’d seen him tense up when the topic moved to public displays of fake affection.

  I mean, I didn’t need it spelled out: He didn’t like me. Which was fine! People are allowed not to like me! It’s not like the entire world has to fall to my feet in worship.

  But...why didn’t he?

  I know I’m not perfect. God knows, after my break up with Harris, I learned an awful lot about how imperfect I am. People blamed me for the breakup. It wasn’t that Harris gossiped about me or anything; he was too good for that. But he was also too good to be at fault for the breakup, and that meant it was my fault, and everyone could speculate on exactly what that fault was. The thing is, they weren’t wrong. I’m not great at relationships.

  It’s not like Nat knew any of that stuff. So there must be another reason he had frozen up. And that reason was, he found me off-putting. Physically, socially, who knows which.