Page 72 of Yard Sale
I loved their little imperfections.
“Do you think,” I asked carefully, “that their opinions might change if Oliver’s the golden child?”
Tiago let out a breathy hum. “Maybe. For his sake, I hope so. There’s nothing worse than parents who decide to make their kid’s disability their whole personality, but…”
“Ew, what? What parents do that?”
“Next time we hang out with Micah and Jonah, ask them about their mom,” Tiago said with a wry grin. “Or hell, you can go look her up on YouTube. Some of her old videos still exist.”
My stomach recoiled in horror. “I don’t know if I want to.”
He laughed again. “Yeah. You probably don’t. But it’s kind of a thing able-bodied parents do. I never had that experience, obviously. They literally thought my RP was some sort of god-given punishment for the affair.”
“Good lord,” I muttered. “That’s some old-school karmic caste shit.” He frowned in confusion, but I wasn’t in the mood to explain that to him, so I just waved it off. “He knows he’s got a cool, rich uncle though. If it starts getting weird, he can text you.”
Tiago’s mouth softened. “He already has. And I know he’s going to have a thousand questions, and he’s going to hope that he’s different than me—that he’ll be the exception. That will be the worst part.”
I had no idea what to say to that. I’d never had to face anything like this before. But as hurt as Tiago was—and it was obvious in the expressions he made every time he talked about his family—he was also very much his own person.
And so brave.
“Sorry. This is weird, right?” Tiago asked, pulling away from my grasp. “This is a little too heavy for a fake boyfriend.”
That stung. It wasn’t his fault. I was the one who’d created and set the boundary about who and what we were. I had no business feeling any type of way about it.
“We’re friends, aren’t we?”
Tiago looked surprised. “Oh, I…yeah. Yes. We are.”
“Are you sure you believe that?” I teased.
He scowled. “Fuck off. We’re friends.”
I hid my laugh as I leaned back on the counter. “Then you can bitch about your family all you want.”
He looked better. Or, if not better, at least a little more settled, and that would have to be enough for now.
CHAPTER 17
ARAVIND
I could have done this for the rest of my life. The week stretched out, long lazy days by the pool or walking the beach. Going shopping because Tiago had forgotten half the important things he needed—like a full tube of toothpaste and deodorant.
We had meals, which he mostly cooked because he was better than me, and he even managed to follow my auntie’s recipe for saag paneer, which we found ingredients for at a boujee little boutique grocery store not too far from the ferry station.
He did this happy little wiggle every time he got something right, and the first time I complimented his rice, he dropped to his knees and sucked my dick until I nearly cried.
“If that’s what good rice does to white people,” I gasped, “remind me to teach you how to make a proper paratha.”
He shut me up with a possessive kiss. And I filed that away for later.
It wasn’t worth it to dwell on what we weren’t. We existed in a bubble away from the rest of the world, occasionally infiltrated by his family’s need to get his attention. It felt a bit like they were trying to flaunt how close and together they were, as some sort of punishing reminder that he was nothing more than the shame-baby his mother had cursed the family with.
But Tiago either didn’t care, or he was an expert at not showing it. And I did my level best to make sure that I buffered him from any of that pain. For every sharp word, I would layer him with kisses. For every moment he lost his words, that night I would make him lose them again for very, very different reasons.
And it was nice.
It terrified me because while I had been gutted after my relationship with Leon fell apart, it wasn’t because I was going to miss him. Or that I really loved him. It was more an acknowledgment that my pride had been stomped into little bits because somehow, I’d given him the power to fucking humiliate me.
