Hoax in One

| 28 |

"This is perfect," Gus said as we sat in the quad waiting for Aaron and Parker.

I had my fun, colorful men's shoes in a row next to me. Gus had a box of watches sitting next to him.

He closed the sleek black cover of the portfolio I'd just picked up from Beckham's Camera and Photoworks.

It still smelled like ink and was warm to the touch.

"It is really pretty," I cooed, running my hand over the blank spine, the blank front, the blank back. "I feel like a professional." I placed it in the grass in front of my crossed legs. One of the rare times I could cross my legs because I had on leggings. "You're the only one who has seen it. I needed your opinion."

"We're going to be professionals next year. How weird is that?" Gus leaned back on his arms and lifted one side of his lips in disgust.

"Los Angeles is going to look so good on you. Don't forget us little people when you're photographing real models."

"I could never. Promise me we'll stay in touch. And I'd welcome you as a model, even though you barely break five feet."

"Of course, we'll stay in touch. And I'm five-foot-two, thank you," I rhymed. "Plus, I always look at least five-four or five-five in my platform sandals."

Gus smirked and winked suggestively. "Must be easy to throw you around."

I smiled coyly. "If I was into such a thing, then yes."

"I can imagine Tate is into such a thing." Gus glanced at the book between us. "Muscles upon muscles, six-foot-three, intense." He gasped. "Oh, and your boyfriend."

It'd been three days since Tate had called me his girlfriend, and I still wasn't quite used to hearing it.

Gus tutted. "You must be really fun to land the title of Tate Thacker's first ever girlfriend."

I swatted his leg in fake embarrassment. This was Gus. I wasn't that ashamed. I heard most of his juicy bedroom details.

"He's so much better," I conceded and laughed.

"No surprise there. I've always imagined him as a rough, takes what he wants kind of guy."

"He's... everything. Rough, gentle, passionate, loving. He takes, but god, he gives. My favorite though is feeling like I'm his."

"Oooh, you little submissive foxy blonde you. No wonder he can't get enough."

"It does things to me," I laughed. "He makes me feel safe, and I can just let go. You know? Give in to it. I don't know. I've never felt so comfortable with someone."

"And you haven't even shown him your portfolio?" Gus joked.

"I need to stay out of my own head and not be anxious about what he thinks. They know him. It's intimidating." I shrugged and lay back, resting my head on my bag to look up at the clouds.

Gus gave me a silly smile as he eyed me. "You're happy."

I closed my eyes and felt the sunshine bake my skin. I was—with a caveat. "Happy for now."

"Only now?" Gus sounded confused. "You'll be working for the PGA. Your boyfriend—future husband?—will be playing on the PGA Tour. You'll have little blonde babies with mismatched eyes. Sounds like a dream. Everything you could ever want."

I could picture it. Easily. Life with Tate.

Me taking his photos as he played across the country. Photos of us as a family when he won tournaments. Eventually, our kids would be standing around us. Tate holding an enormous trophy and wearing a green jacket, standing there looking humble like he always did. The kids would ride in our golf cart as we played on whichever course we lived on, or we'd sit on our back porch and wave to Tate as he passed by the hole we lived on.