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“Argh, you do realize it’s before noon on a Sunday? I need my beauty sleep. So spill, what have you fucked up this time? I’ll give you the solution, and then I’m going back to bed.”
I couldn’t help but grin. This was why Remy was my ride-or-die—he got me. “I haven’t done anything, thank you very much! Yet…”
“Gray, I’m hanging up if you don’t get to the point.”
“Right, right. So you know the new kid, Colton?” I aimed for nonchalance, even though Remy was well aware of my crush.
“You mean the feisty, emo twink you’re hopelessly in love with? Ah yeah. I see you making heart eyes at him whenever he’s within a half-mile radius of you. What about him?” His bored tone suggested he wasn’t remotely interested. Rude.
“I am not hopelessly in love with him!” I scoffed, though I wasn’t entirely sure why I was denying it, considering I was about to seek advice on how to make him fall for me.
“Then ask your question and prove me wrong,” he snapped back.
Smug bastard.
But, he wasn’t wrong. Remy might have resembled your stereotypical jock—tall, broad, with that slow way of talking that led people to discount what he had to say before it finished leaving his mouth. Yet appearances were deceiving. Remy was not only wicked smart, but also possessed an unparalleled emotional intelligence and an infallible gaydar. As someone who identified as pan, he knew about my bisexuality before I’d even stopped to consider it. In fact, he matter-of-factly disclosed that little nugget of information when I was thirteen, with as much importance as if he were delivering the weather forecast.
I cherished our friendship for that very reason. Remy never sugarcoated things; he spoke the unfiltered truth. He had a knack for steering me clear of trouble while allowing me the space to be authentically myself. It was a delicate balance, but he navigated it with ease.
“Fine,” I huffed. “Hypothetically, if I were to try and woo Colton, would getting him a gig at Spark be too much? Like, would that scare him off?”
Remy sighed audibly, clearly sick of my shit this early in the day. “Woo? What are you, some gentleman caller from the eighteenth century?” he snorted.
“Hey, I’m trying to be romantic here. Not my fault people nowadays are uncultured.”
“People nowadays? Way to convince me you’re not a thousand years old. Are you meeting up with your good buddy Edward Cullen later to discuss watching your crush sleep and the virtues of waiting until marriage?”
“Remy, please,” I whined. “Now’s not the time for you to remind me you’re an OG member of Team Jacob. We get it. I need actual help.”
“Well, before I can answer your question, I think you’ve skipped over some pretty crucial details leading up to it.”
I shifted my weight from foot to foot, debating how much detail to divulge to avoid being teased while still getting accurate advice. In the end, I decided to go all in. Screw it. Remy already believed I was in love with Colton, and he wasn’t entirely wrong, so I guess I might as well stick to the truth.
I started recounting the events since Friday night, attempting to preserve as much of Colt’s privacy as possible while also seeking the guidance I desperately needed. I debated whether to disclose Colt’s living situation, but I ultimately opted for transparency. Remy was a vault, and I trusted him to keep that information under wraps. Also, knowing that someone else could step in to help Colt if I drove him away provided a measure of reassurance.
After my rambling saga finished, Remy, surprise, surprise, gave me shit. He threw in a mention of my supposed savior complex, a label I vehemently denied. Helping those in need isn’t a savior complex; it’s called being a gentleman like my mama taught me.
Okay, not my actual mama, but close enough. Remy’s mama had schooled me in the forgotten art of chivalry.
“Okay, so let me get this straight. You’re hopelessly in love with a guy who, up until now, has rejected any attempts on your part to even talk to him. This guy is now homeless, although you won’t tell me why—”
“No, he won’t tell me why. There’s a difference,” I interjected.
“Dude, that actually makes it worse. But I digress. So, he’s now living with you because you took him in like a wounded bird. Then he smashed a lamp because he didn’t actually want your help. Then you told him that you love him like a cr—”
“No, I declared my intentions to romance him. Like a gentleman. I don’t want to freak him out.”
“Every word you say makes me wonder why this guy hasn’t punched you in the face yet,” he deadpans.
“Mean!” I conveniently left out my black eye, refusing to give him more ammunition.
“Anyway, you told Colton you want to date him without even having a proper conversation. You are aware you sound like a stalker?”
I wisely kept my mouth shut. Rem didn’t need to know how close to the truth he was.
“Gray… Why so quiet?”
“No reason!”
