FLIMSY CRAVINGS

prologue

Pete knows how it feels to be the consolation prize.Too young.

Not blackie.

And definitely not an ice prince.

His friend is—was—all those things. Perfection. Until he wasn’t. Until he ran off to be with the enemy and left his fiancé behind.

Now, pete is given to vegas in his friend’s stead, knowing he’ll never be more than second best. Yet, he can’t stop longing for the love of the man he’s crushed on since he was still his friend’s. vegas is a man who’s used to getting what he wants.

Power.

Respect.

The sought-after ice prince.

Until another man steals his groom-to-be. Vegas knows that for a man in his position, losing his boy can lead to a loss of face.

Wounded pride.

Thirst for revenge.

A dangerous combination—one vegas can’t leave behind, not even when a boy just as precious takes his friend’s place to placate him. Yet, he’s got one flaw: he’s not his friend.

Unable to forget what he’s lost, vegas might lose what he’s been given.Thou shalt not covet.

I’d pined for vegas even when he had still been engaged to my friend. It had been an innocent infatuation of a young boy, fantasizing how things would be if he were mine. My knight-in-shining armor, my Disney prince.

It had been my favorite daydream, until a simple fantasy had turned to reality when my friend couldn’t marry him.

That dream soon turned into a nightmare, and a silly boy’s fantasy burst.

He didn’t want me.

No two snowflakes are identical in shape; every single one of them is unique—magnificent, icy perfection.

Like my friend.

I’d tried to imitate him, but an imitation would never be the original. I was an echo of the perfect melody. A shadow of an immaculate image. Always less. Never enough.

Porsche had been close to perfect in people’s eyes when he was still around, but now that he was nothing but a fading memory, his absence amplified all that he had been. he’d become larger than life.

he lingered in every corner of the house, and worse, in the minds of the people he’d left behind.

How can you beat a memory?

You can’t.

My fingers trembled as I smoothed down my wedding tuxedo. It wasn’t my name that would be whispered in the news today.

Because I was the consolation prize.

The surrogate groom.

Worst of all, I was not my friend.

I peered at my reflection. Dressed like this, I almost looked like Porsche, minus the black hair. Still less. Always less. But maybe vegas would see the similarities between Porsche and me. Maybe, for a second, he would look at me with the same longing he used to direct at porsche.

Before he realized I wasn’t Porsche. Before that look of disappointment settled on his face again.

Less than he wanted.

I was done trying to be someone else. Vegas would have to see me for who I was, and if that meant he’d never look at me twice, then so be it