Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61903 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
“I fell over once. Okay, twice. But that’s it.”
“There was that one other time…” I trailed off at Shy’s pointed look. “All right, well, just be careful. I don’t want my boyfriend forgetting about me.”
He looked to me, his lips slanting into a smirk. “Are we talking real boyfriend, here? Or fake?”
“What do you want?”
“As real as it comes.”
“Exactly what I want,” I said, kissing him over the rising steam of our coffees. “And exactly what I feel, too. For once in my life, I can say I actually feel happy. That probably sounds insane coming out of my mouth. But it’s true. I really do feel actual happiness for once.”
“It doesn’t sound insane at all.” Shiro sipped his coffee. “I completely get it. Just because the world sees all the flashy things that come with being a prince, they don’t see anything that goes on inside. You were fighting off a storm. No amount of expensive cars or lavish vacations was going to make you feel good, not until you came out.”
“Which… I guess I still have to do.” I took a deep breath. “I think I’m going to tell my parents today. I don’t want them finding out through a photo. I want to tell them myself, and I don’t think this can wait for me to get back.”
“I think you’re right. They should hear it from you. Don’t let some dumb ass paparazzo take away your power or your story.”
“How should I do it?”
“Just be truthful, say what’s in your heart. I know that sounds kinda dumb and fluffy, but it’s true. In those situations, you just have to spill your guts. Say it and get it all out there, because once it is, then your job is done.” Shy put a hand on my leg. “You’ve got this. I know you do.”
His confidence was nice, seeing as how mine felt lacking in that moment. I swallowed my nerves, chasing it with a gulp of the coffee.
We talked for a while longer, the conversation drifting to more benign topics. We landed on discussing our star signs again, except this time our conversation felt very different to the one we had in the bookshop.
“Ok, so now I’m really going to google if Pisces and Virgos are compatible, and not in the friend way. Not that I really believe in all that but you know, for research,” Shy said, laughing as he typed it in.
“And?” I asked, fully invested in the outcome.
“It says… excellent match. Looks like Pisces and Virgos share an emotional connection that others only dream to have. Sourced by… AstrologyAndU.com, spelled with the letter u.”
“You’re a typical Pisces,” I said, tsking.
“Oh please, you didn’t even know Pisces were the fish.”
I shut him up with a cheeky kiss. The kiss grew, as they typically did between us, and we were soon rolling around on the bed, stroking and licking and playing with each other, until Shy’s phone started to buzz against the nightstand.
Ace was calling him to come down and hang out with the group. Shy reluctantly pulled off me and said he needed to go down before they thought he’d been abducted or thrown off the side of the ship. I laughed, giving his ass a slap as he got dressed. I told him I would meet them later.
“Are you going to call them now?” he asked as I was saying bye to him at the door.
“I am,” I answered, my mouth going as dry as cotton.
“All right, remember, just say what’s on your heart. They’re your parents first and foremost—they’ll understand where their own son is coming from.”
“I hope so.”
“I know so.” His positivity was welcome, especially when I felt like I was heading toward a massive iceberg. We kissed goodbye and he left, leaving the room in silence.
If I waited any longer, I knew I’d just keep putting it off. I grabbed a shirt and tugged it on. I walked out to the balcony, my pulse pounding. I knew that this was it—this was the moment. I couldn’t wait any longer, especially not with that photo still floating around. It could hit at any moment, and there would be no denying it further. I had to come out to my parents.
The FaceTime call had trouble connecting, but once my mom’s face popped up on the screen, it was clear and smooth. Rays of sunlight made her silky black hair shine, like some kind of filter had been applied to the video.
“¡Hola, mi hijo! ¡Feliz navidades!”
“Hey, mamá. Merry Christmas. Is Dad around?”
“Your father? He is, he is.” She walked over to where my father sat at on the ancient couch we had inside the solarium. He sat up and made room for my mom, both their faces filling the screen now. “Everything okay?” my mom asked. Creases appeared around her eyes, revealing the worry she would otherwise have been successful concealing.