Page 24 of Fake Crown

“Hot guys in my bed are always acceptable,” I say, and I kiss his shoulder.

“Just how many hot guys are usually in your bed?” His tone is teasing.

“Oh, you—you didn’t see the line outside the door?” I feign confusion and eye the closed door.

“Impressive,” he says.

“Is it? Guys can be weird about that stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“Sexual history. Other guys. Jealous. Possessive. Or whatever.” All my casual flings go sideways for those reasons.

He turns to lie on his stomach, and he rests his head on his arms. I mirror his pose, so we’re side by side.

“You’ve gone quiet on me,” I whisper.

“Thinking about what you said. Trying to figure out where I fall.” He bites his lip. “As long as the sexual history was consensual and something you wanted, I don’t see why any other guy would need or care to know about it. But if there was something in there that might help me understand how to treat you better, I’d want to know.”

“That’s a very mature response.” His sincerity takes me by surprise.

“Did I nail it?” His lips twitch.

“Oh, it was nailed,” I purr. “Bang, bang, bang, baby.”

“Three bangs,” Brent says. “I nailed it good.”

I laugh and turn onto my side to face him.

“To be clear, I’m not asking you to be my girlfriend, and I’m not angling to have you become my girlfriend. I’m too busy for that shit, anyway. But what’s holding you back?”

“What makes you think anything is holding me back? You just said you don’t want another girlfriend. How is it inconceivable that I don’t want a boyfriend?”

“Just tell me.” Brent sighs. “I’m chasing an insane Olympic medal count. What are you chasing?”

I trace a line from his shoulder to his hip. Even his back has visible muscles. “When I’m done with my degree, I want to go back home.”

“And a boyfriend would stop you?”

“Might make me reconsider, and I think I’d be miserable eventually.”

“A boyfriend could just move to Bellerive,” he says.

“It’s not that simple. The immigration laws are ridiculous. Any visa is good for two years, and then someone either has to be on the track to becoming a permanent resident, or they have to be in the process of marrying a native Bellerivian.”

“Okay, so if that’s your excuse for why you’re single in college, what about high school?”

“Did you have high school girlfriends?” I ask.

“Sure, if you want to call them that.”

“Did they call themselves that?” I laugh.

“Honestly?” He purses his lips. “I’ve been focused on swimming since I realized I might be able to do the impossible, and the rest of my life has always felt like excessive noise.”

“Well, that’s...honest.”

“I sound like an asshole, right?” He grimaces. “It’s not that I’m incapable of maintaining relationships. Tomorrow, I’m in my high school friend’s wedding party. It’s just...” He frowns. “I’ve never been willing to invest in a romantic relationship.” He gives a dark chuckle. “A functional one, at least.” He nudges my arm. “You didn’t answer my question.”