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Just goes to show: handsome men are best watched and lusted over from a distance.
***
“Whatcha doing?” my roommate Brylee asks, wandering into the living room of our small apartment, rubbing her ginger hair on a white, fluffy towel, the rest of her clad in a sexy little number.
Brylee and I couldn’t be any different.
Did you guess?
“Blog.” I delete the line I’d written and start again. My latest post got me hundreds of thousands of views, and happy comments. I am a blog goddess, as it turns out. Girls love reading about my imaginary adventures with my two fantasy boyfriends. I just hope to God nobody, and especially not said boyfriends, ever finds out.
I reread what I wrote, frowning. He gave me a smoldering look as I handed him the book about bananas…
“Bananas?” Brylee wrinkles her tiny nose, until it looks like a wrinkled white grape. It does, I swear. Those white seedless ones.
“I know, Bry.” I sigh. “I swear to God.”
“Wait, is this real? He came to the shop?”
I point at the pic I’d uploaded. “I gots Proof. With a capital P.”
“Are those… buns?”
“His buns,” I clarify and enlarge the pic, which, granted, is a little blurry, but still presenting Joel’s ass in all its muscular glory. “In jeans. Unfortunately. There should be a law preventing hot guys from wearing clothes inside stores. I have been thinking about this,” I say, warming up to my topic. “Maybe put some lockers there, with a sign, We only serve those in Bare Hot Buns.”
“You took a pic of his butt.”
“Yeah, okay. I totally did. And if I could get away with taking one of his front, I would have.”
“Right.” She straightens, pats my head. “I see you’re back to writing about your imaginary life with two boyfriends. I thought you were over that.”
“Why would you think that?” Seriously. “A good fantasy is hard to find.”
“I mean the blog.”
“What’s wrong with my blog, huh? People love it.” And that’s a huge understatement. I mean, I was approached by companies to advertise their stuff in my stories, for a good price, too, and I’m thinking of saying yes. Why the heck not, right?
“I just don’t get it, is all. Half the time you review books, and the other half you talk about these two guys as if they’re real.”
“They are real, Bry.”
“Yeah, well, not in the way you describe them.” She leans over my shoulder again, scrolling back to previous posts of mine and reading out loud: “He reaches for J-Two’s shirt, yanks it open and whispers, I need you to touch me, need you to blow my—”
“Hey.” I shove her back and snap my laptop shut. “Cut it out.”
“Why?”
“You’re too young for this.”
Truth is, having someone I know read my words out loud is awful. Anonymous readers reading my words far, far away from me is a completely different thing.
“What if they read it? Those two guys? And what if they realize it’s about them? What if they find out you want to do them both? Christ, aren’t you embarrassed for wanting two guys to do you?” Brylee says.
“I’m not. Why would I be? Nothing wrong with that. Why are you trying to shame me for what I want?”
My mom raised me to accept myself. I owe her for that, I guess. Even if she thinks we’re best buddies and she can tell me things about her sex life with my dad I really don’t want to know
.
