Knockoff Boyfriend


I tried. I swear to God I tried to be patient, but after hours of nothing but pounding country rock music vibrating my walls and windows, I couldn’t stand it anymore.

Not only could I not concentrate on my work, but the Internet was slow and I knew why. My new roommate.

I wanted to knock down his door and strangle him. I didn’t even know the guy. I had yet to meet him, having only moved into this apartment two days ago.

My other roommate, Debi, said he could be a little loud.

She just didn’t tell me how loud or how selfish.  Slowing down the Internet when I needed it? What the hell?

Debi said he was some kind of cowboy computer hacker or whatever.

Now, I’m pretty patient. I even put up with the fact Debi mixed stripes and polka dot wallpaper and had zeroI count zero coasters. But even I had limits.

After working two shifts on the movie set, back to back, I was exhausted.  And now with the Internet slow as molasses when I needed it, this sister-friend was not happy.

I looked at my cell phone for the time. I only had two hours left before I had to go to work and I had to finish my computer project before that.

Not that I could complain. I loved working as an assistant to one of the most powerful producers in Hollywood.

Forgive me if I’m a little all over the place. I’ve got that A.D.D. thing and all.

So, anyway, my boss also happened to be incredibly hot, and I also happened to be in love with him.

It was worse than the time I was obsessed with Chris Hemsworth, but I could never tell him. Oh my God, I would die if my boss found out how madly in love I was with him.

I rubbed my eyes as I took a deep breath, contemplating whether or not to knock on my roommate’s door. Again.

I’d wait, for now. Maybe I could work on my computer project later. I really should try to get a little sleep.

I stepped in my bathroom to splash water on my face. I looked at myself in the mirror and guess what I found.

Another zit! Exactly what I needed, along with my big ass glasses. I was a real contender for Mr. America here.

My chances of ever getting my boss to truly notice me were becoming worse by the second.

Being in love with a guy as hot as my boss was ridiculous, but I couldn’t help myself.

He was wonderful and gorgeous, in a so pretty-and-spaced-out-half-the-time-Matt Bomer-type of way.

His name is Andrew Swoonseriously, that is his name—and he is beyond gorgeous.

Loving him from a distance was fine I’d decided. But the more I was around him, the more I wanted from him.

And then, there was this other teeny weeny little problem.

You know the little computer project I told you about? Maybe I went a little too far.

You see, I kind of stumbled upon my boss’s computer a few months ago and ran across a certain gay dating site called Humper.

Maybe setting up a secret profile on the site wasn’t the best idea, neither was reaching out to him.

HotGuy69, I called myself, an Italian import/export businessman.

I swear, we’ve clicked. I mean, for three months we’ve been chatting and we’re perfect for each other.

Like Bella and Edward Twilight-type of clicked.

He likes Gaga; I like Gaga. He likes Andrew Christian; I like Andrew Christian. We are a match. Made. In. Heaven.

You hear me? He calls us soul mates online.

Mr. Swoon doesn’t know me, the real me. He’s clueless that this guy who he calls his soul mate is the one who’s been there all along, fetching his coffee, waxing his Corniche, and sneaking him around the paparazzi.

I wish my boss liked me for who I am, who I really am.

Anyway, after hours of chatting with my boss online as the fake me, our conversation was stalled, all because of the fucking Internet and my new roommate.

I ran my hand over my face and took a deep breath. Greasy pores, where’s Clinique when you need it?

I had bags under my eyes and Preparation H would only do so much.

Oh, you didn’t know? Girl, dab a little Preparation H under the eyes. Dab, don’t swipe. It gets rid of puffiness.

We’ll talk later, and I’ll give you a few other tips.

I needed some sleep even if it was only a couple of hours. Just as I laid down, there was an ungodly blood curdling scream from the other room. It sounded like a female.

My roommate had gone too far.

So I knocked on the door, polite as can be—just how my good little Christian parents taught me to be before they kicked me out for being gay.

When that didn’t work, the Devil came out, and I knocked louder.

“Excuse me! Hello!” I said, raising my voice.

No answer.

I swear. I was about to get ethnic, and I’m as white as Elmer’s glue. “I said ‘excuse me!'”

I pounded on the door over the sub-woofer country music which sounded like Garth Brooks and Shania Twain had birthed a kitten in heat.

I calmed myself down. This wasn’t worth starting my period over.

And right then, who opens the door in one swoop, but the hottest-looking cowboy I’ve ever seen in my Goddamn life.

I mean, Country Boy GQ-type of cute. Tim McGraw cute. Tim McGraw with the cowboy hat cutewithout the hat, not so much…with the hat, girl, he could do me all night long.

So, this cowboy roommate of mine leans against the door frame, his plaid cowboy shirt rolled up over his massive biceps.

Arching an eyebrow, he says in this deep voice, “Yeah?”

Now, the guy is hot, but he’s also intimidating. Shoulder length dark hair, a chiseled look, strong jawline with a hot 5 o’clock shadow thing going on that only made me imagine how it’d feel between my thighs.

Ooh yeah girl, I went there.

Dried paint was crusted on his worker’s strong, masculine hands. It made my imagination run wild.

But then, I flashed back to being beaten up for being gay by the high school football players, and I’m scrambling for words.

Let me tell you something. I have no problem talking to people. I mean, I can talk a turtle out of his shell, but I’m suddenly at a loss.

Brooding. Sexy. Every move, every expression was as intense as a bull.  There he was eyeing me, and I didn’t know if he wanted to pounce on me or attack me.

I would have taken either. Can I get an amen? Mmm-hmm.

So I stared at his shirt, which was unbuttoned below his buzzed hairy chest, until he cleared his throat.

I conjured up the courage to say, “Yeah, so um…I’m your roommate and—”

“Yeah. I figured.” With this smirk on his face, he crossed his bulging arms. “So, what’s up?”

I fidgeted, doing my best to control my temper.  “So, it’s two o’clock in the morning. The music’s a little loud, and I need to use the Internet. Do you think you could—?”

He cut me off.  “My name’s Christian. What’s yours?”

I was so tongue-tied by the change of conversation, I could barely get out my words. “Well, I’m Kyle, but—”

“You smoke weed, Kyle?”

My voice raised.  “I beg your pardon?” What an odd question to ask someone.

“Weed,” he repeated. “Reefer, marijuana…do you smoke it?”

My first thought was why was he asking that? Did I have bags under my eyes? Did I forget to exfoliate? Then, I got huffy. “No, as a matter of fact I don’t, but—”

“You should.”

My teeth clenched. “What?” What was that supposed to mean?

“Might loosen you up a little.” He held my gaze long enough for me to wonder if he had been undressing me with his eyes or if he was just staring me down.

“I beg your pardon.” I lifted my drooping glasses from my nose. “I’m loose enough. I mean, I’m not loose, I’m quite tight they tell me, but—”

A slow sexy smile built up at my every word. He enjoyed seeing me unravel, and if I hadn’t been so pissed at him, I might have fallen for his charms.

“Anyway, like I was saying,” I said. “If you could turn the music down and log off the Internet so I can—”

“Sorry, no can do Kyle.” He slammed the door in my face. I mean, right in my face.

Girl, my Irish blood boiled, and I’m not even Irish (but I’d like to have some Irish in me if you know what I mean. Ooh, child!).

At that moment, I thought, Oh, no, he did not. Uh-uh.

Now, I was a pretty laid back guy most the time, but I was not having this at all. I pounded on the door and when that didn’t work, I kicked it.

The door opened again. This time, he narrowed his sapphire blue eyes at me. “You don’t want to do that,” he warned.

I crossed my arms. “I need to sleep.”

“I got some Xanax if you want.” He obviously enjoyed pushing my buttons.

“Absolutely not. You’re making too much noise. Do you want the cops to come?”

His jaw clenched. “Is that a threat?”

I cleared my throat. “Well, no, I’m just telling you the neighbors are going to complain about the music.”

Arching his eyebrow, he asked, “And?”

I groaned. “And? The cops are going to come and the—”

“Won’t be the first time and it won’t be the last. Besides, I’m busy.” He was about to close the door until I stuck my foot in the doorway.

He looked me up from my feet to my head, but I pushed on through the intimidation. “Busy doing what?” I asked.

That slow sexy smile returned. “Creating, Kyle. Creating.”

I sighed. This was nonsense. “Creating? Well, it sounds like noise to me.”

He frowned. “You don’t understand art.”

“Christian, I know art, and that noise is not art and—” I glanced below at his feet when I saw it. Those sandals. That combination. “Oh my god, stop. Just stop.”

He looked at his sandals. “What?”

My face twisted in disgust. “Are you really wearing socks and sandals…Together?”

Shrugging, he said, “Uh, yeah.”

I threw up my hands. “I just can’t. I can’t even talk to someone who does that.”

He chuckled with a mix of amusement and confusion.

“Christian, are you coming?” a female voice said. Oh, my god. Did he actually have a girl in there?

Oh, shit, two girls? The two women giggled, each peeking their heads out the door.

Each wore nothing but towels. Each more boobalicious than the other.

My eyes widened when I noticed the video camera in his bedroom.

My jaw dropped. Was I in an episode of Naked Survivor, Breeder Edition?

“Like I said,” he repeated with a smug smirk on his face. “I’m creating.”

Art, my ass. Nasty fucker had slowed down the Internet making a porno. And he was banging two girls in his bedroom? Two?

Fucking breeder, nasty motherfuckers, and they say gays are whores.

“Wanna join us?” he asked, motioning inside his bedroom.

I almost threw up in my mouth.

Now, women are cool, but the last time I wanted tits was after my mother gave birth to me, and I wasn’t having it even then, so she switched to formula.

I told him, “Um, no.”

“You gotta girl?” His hand flicked his left nipple. Fuck. Didn’t he know I haven’t been laid in months?

So maybe I don’t look “gay,” whatever that’s supposed to mean, but I’m all sister on the inside, child.

“No, I don’t have a girl.” My hand to my chest, I kept my eyes away from his nipples. “Strictly dickly.”

He did this side smile thing and said, “Interesting…” Looking me up and down, he bit his lip. “You sure you don’t want to come in?”

I twisted my mouth in shock. “That’s disgusting.”

He winked. “Suit yourself.” He’d said it to push my buttons.

“One more thing,” I said, not able to look at him anymore out of embarrassment. “Debi said that you were some computer expert.”

“Uh-huh?” he said, taking a deep breath.

I cleared my throat. I know I wasn’t in the position to ask for a favor but my special computer project was an emergency. “Do you think you could help me with my new computer?”

“I’m creating.” He shut the door. Ugh!

I yelled at the door. “Well, can you not upload your freaking porn right now? It’s slowing down the Internet!”

I was so disgusted at the selfish prick. Plus, sandals and socks together? Who does that?

Men are pigs. This whole situation reminded me of my fucking pig exthe whole reason I lived in this new hole-in-the-wall in the first place.

This situation was only temporary though. I’d bounce back and get my own apartment soon enough.

Thank God I’d met my other roommate Debi on the movie set of my boss’s production.

She did makeup for all the big stars and said she needed another roommate so she took me in. Lucky, I guess, except for this selfish cowboy breeder.

I sighed. An hour and a half was left before work. Maybe I did need a Xanax.

I laid back in bed and tried to tune out the music by putting a few pillows over my head.

Just then, the fucker turned the music up. Up! Ooh girl, I just couldn’t.

I couldn’t wait for Debi to get back in town so she could throw his ass out. I’d make sure of it.



Chapter 2Christian

Maybe it was a little rude shutting the door on him, but I had to get this project done.

“Turn the music down, will you?” I asked one of the girls I worked with.  

Poor roommate was right, I’d lost track of time and had forgotten there was another person in the apartment, again.

I’ll apologize when I see him again for jerking his chain. Maybe invite him out for a beer to smooth things over.  I could see why he was so irritated.

It had been just Debi and me for so long, and she was out of town most of the time.

I sighed, turning the volume of the music down myself.  Making these live lesbian pornos weren’t exactly what I said I wanted to do when I grew up, but it paid the bills for now.

I had bigger plans in mind. Something I could be proud of. Something that would help the unfortunate. Something that would make a difference in the world, but with thousands of fans on my site, I had to stay focused.  

I’d given my word to them to create quality. One thing about me, I am a man of my word. That’s how I was raised on the farm. My daddy had always said, always do your best at whatever you were doing.

I rubbed my eyes. It had been a long night. I couldn’t waste another second, these porno model chicks charged by the minute.

Not that I was complaining. What red-blooded male wouldn’t like being locked up in his room with two Double-D women? Well, maybe not my new roommate.

I snickered thinking about him, something about him entertained me. Despite his temper tantrum, it was the first real conversation I’d had since moving to L.A.

Finding sincere people in this city was like trying to find a unicorn.  

And yeah, so maybe I did flirt with Kyle a little.

I liked flirting. It made people feel special and I liked making people feel that way.

And it made me feel good. As far as I was concerned, it was a win-win. Men, women, I didn’t care.

There weren’t many opportunities to flirt where I came from, unless you liked cows.

“So, what does he do?” one of my models asked, interrupting my thoughts.  She bent over and looked at her naked lips in the full-length mirror.

She was a gorgeous redhead and the older of the two, but she also was the most coked up.

“Who, darling?” I asked. Pretty thing, but she’d gotten on my last nerve tonight.

She’d been constantly complaining, demanding this and demanding that.

“The boy with the big contacts.” She tossed her red mane up as she looked at me. Big contacts? What was she talking about?

“My roommate?” I asked, checking the sound levels on the microphone.

We didn’t have much space to work in this room of mine. The Burbank building was pretty on the outside, but not much to look at on the insidekind of like most people in Hollywood.  

“Is that what he is?” she asked in awe. “A roommate?”

“Yep,” I said, re-adjusting my cowboy hat.

“What does he do, the one with the big contacts?” she repeated while the other model made acting noises. ‘Cause, you know, she was a regular Meryl Streep.

I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion. “The big ‘what’?” I tried to be patient with them both.

The redhead tilted her head and said, “Those thingies. Those big contacts on his face.”

“Oh, you mean, glasses?” Hot damn, she was dense. I’ve met a lot of dumb fucks in my life, but being in L.A. took the word to a whole other level.

“Why does he put them on his face?” she asked in all seriousness.

Jesus. I didn’t say what I wanted to say. My momma always taught me if I couldn’t say anything nice…

“So what does he do? Like in Hollywood?” she asked, chomping on her gum.

She had emphasized ‘Hollywood’ as if she’d pronounced a really big word.

I didn’t want to tell her that Debi had said he was some big producer’s assistant, ’cause one thing about many L.A. people was they always tried to work an angle.

Instead, I shrugged and re-positioned the lights on the bed. “Uh, some secretary or something.”

“Oh,” she said, wrinkling her nose in disinterest.

“Ssh. I’m trying to get into character,” the other chick said. “Red leather, yellow leather. Red leather, yellow leather…”

She was a good five years younger than the other onethough you never can tell with the way these chicks inject shit in their face.

Platinum blonde hair, giant flotation devices stuffed in an oversized bra.

Sadly, porno was probably going to be the highlight of her life. I’d offered to help her get into community college or something, but she’d asked me, “What’s that?”

I froze in disbelief as she picked up a mic and tilted her head every which way.

“So, do we get paid extra for this?” she asked.

“Extra for what, sweetheart?” I tried not to sigh too loud, as I refocused the camera.

“For using this thingie,” she explained, holding up the long boom microphone.  She was about to stuff it up her coochie until I stopped her.

“Darling, it’s called a boom mic. That’s to record sound,” I said.

“Oh,” she said, nodding her head. The bean rolling around in that empty jar of hers nearly echoed in the room.

I wanted to get through this whole thing quickly, every second of delay meant less money and people unsubscribing.

God, there had to be more to life than this. I’d already given up on love after my last heartbreak. I’d hoped if I focused on my career, at least if I couldn’t find love, I could help make the world a better place.


Chapter 3Kyle

“Kyle…Kyle,” my hot boss said, leaning on my desk. “Earth to Kyle.”

I’d been zoning out about him again and I blinked a few times before answering. “Oh, sorry, Mr. Swoon. I was just—”

“Daydreaming again?” he suggested with his handsome smile. It was the same smile that always made me blush.

And he smelled so clean and so good—like he walked out of a Calvin Klein ad.

He gave me a wink with his gorgeous green eyes. His dark bangs fell into his face until he shook his head like a shampoo commercial and it fell in place.

Mmm girl, delicious. I’d need to change my underpants if he did it again.

He walked back to his desk, confident and styled to perfection. He knew what every gay man should know, match your belt with your shoes.

Sitting on the edge of his desk, his attention was all on me as he folded his arms.

Giant movie posters of all the blockbusters and Oscar nominees he’d produced lined the wall.

Everything on his desk compartmentalized to perfection, unlike mine—an organized mess.

“It won’t happen again. Didn’t mean to daydream,” I apologized, putting brass brads into a pile of screenplays.

“It’s cool. How’s the new place working out?” he asked.

Isn’t he wonderful? He always asked me how I felt, then, he’d sit there and listen, really listen.

I got hard thinking about it. I didn’t want to bore him with my nightmare last night, putting up with my fucking cowboy roommate and his porno-shooting, so I replied, “Cool.”

He winked. “Well, if you ever need any help moving more stuff in.”

See what I mean? And his wink of desire? I could feel beads of pre-cum in my briefs.

So perfect, so good to me after what happened with my ex. I’d always be grateful to him for it.

He tilted his head.  “So…what were you thinking about?”

“Huh?” I dropped the screenplay I was working on.

“…When you were daydreaming?” he asked. Why was he looking at me as if he was reading me?

He gave me the look a man gives you when they want to know what you’re all about, sizing you up for the conquest. At least, that’s how I saw it in my head.

What was I thinking about? Being with him. How he’d make an amazing father one day?

How we’d travel the world hand in hand, having sex day and night?

And we’d have little matching white kittens, Dolce and Gabbana. They’d be so cute.

But of course, I didn’t say anything like that to him.

“Just thinking about tomorrow’s shoot,” I said, clearing my throat. My eyes avoided his.

I’d brought my new laptop with me to see if I could get the freaking thing to work on my own since my selfish roommate refused to help, but no such luck.

“New laptop?” he said, stepping closer. He noticed everything. He was amazing like that.

I shut it, nervous he might notice the Humper website I’d used to pretend to be the man of his dreams. “Uh, yeah.”

He flashed a smile. “So, everything together for the shoot?” He sat behind his desk. I couldn’t help but watch how great his thighs looked in his tailored lavender suit and small print custom shirt.

“Everything’s lined up, except for one of the talent. I have to replace him.” I sighed. Talent was such a pain in the ass. I didn’t want to bother Mr. Swoon with petty things like that.

His eyebrows scrunched up in concern.  “Okay, which one?”

I sucked in some air. He wasn’t supposed to know about this. “The co-star.”

“The co-star?” He leaned back in his black leather designer chair. He never freaked out, but I could feel his concern. It was a multi-million dollar production after all.  

“Yeah, he came down with something, but don’t worry. I’m working with casting on a replacement. They assure me it will be taken care of,” I said, sending a quick email to the casting director. “…exhaustion, his publicist said.”

He sighed, then a smirk spread across his perfect lips. “Exhaustion? Meaning drug rehab again?”

“Pretty much,” I said, chuckling.

He didn’t like last minute changes. But over the last few months, I showed him, come hell or high water, it’d get taken care of.

“I’m sure it will get taken care of. I know I can always count on you.”

He gave me a warm smile; the one wet dreams are made of.

I needed to get laid. It’d been so long, I was going to turn into a virgin again.

You didn’t know that? If you don’t have sex after a month in the gay world, your hymen grows back, and you become a virgin again. It’s totally a thing.

Anyway, Mr. Swoon has these Colgate white sparkling teeth that, I swear to God, made a ding sound like a toothpaste commercial when he smiled.

I blushed. “Thanks for the compliment, Mr. Swoon.”

I must have stared at him way too long because he cleared his throat. “Well, if that’s all…”

“Oh, yes sir,” I said, running through the growing list of emails that had come in. Damn wannabe screenwriters always clogged up my inbox with query letters.

He sat behind his desk and flipped through a screenplay. “I get any deliveries today?”

“Deliveries? Like from your secret admirer?” I teased, though I couldn’t look at him.

He blushed with those cute little dimples that made my heart flutter like a gerbil’s.

“It’s been so long since I’ve met anyone like him. We got disconnected last night when we were online. He’s just so…easy to talk to.”

Now, it was Mr. Swoon’s turn to stare at the ceiling and daydream with a smile of possibilities.

I felt guilty about the whole thing. I wanted to be honest with him and admit that I was the one he’d been chatting with all these months.

“Except you haven’t met him, Mr. Swoon,” I said, wondering what to say next.

“Yes, but if he’s anything like the chat messages and emails I’ve been receiving, he’s got to be incredible. I almost don’t care what he looks like.”

“No?” A sign from the universe for me to come forward? My roommate Debi told me the universe gives you signs if you look for them.

I sat up straight and asked, “Even if he’s short, not in such great shape, and doesn’t have a lot of money?”

His eyes locked on mine, almost as if he were trying to tell me something.

“Money? I got that covered. Short, I don’t mind so much. And not in such great shape? That’s what gyms are for.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right, sir.” I smiled and my heart raced. I should tell him, I thought to myself. I should have come out to him so we could profess our love for each other and get on with making our little Swoon-lettes.

He groaned. “As long as he’s not ugly.”

The word hit me like a wrecking ball. “Ugly?”

Shrugging, he said, “Yeah, I mean maybe it makes me superficial, but I have to be attracted to him too. I mean, otherwise…”

That was understandable, but that only made me feel insecure. People said I was cute, but compared to these surgically-enhanced models and actors in town, I was a troll.

Clearing my throat, I said, “…Otherwise, you could be friends, maybe friends with benefits?”

I swear to God, another three pimples formed on my face before my eyes as I looked at my reflection in the mirror on my desk.

“Friends…? Hmm…I’ve got plenty of those and with benefits? If he’s not attractive…”

His lips curled in distaste. My heart sunk a littleokay a lot.

“No, I get it.” Story of my life. I avoided my reflection.

He got up and headed toward me.

He groaned.  “Hope he’s not too fem.”


“I’m not into fem guys, you know? I like men to be men.” Why did that feel like a dig at me?

“Oh, yeah.” I conjured up a smile.

“Well, let me know how the casting goes. I’ve got a mani-pedi to go to, right?”

I checked his schedule, scanning the computer. “Uh, yes, in 45 minutes. I can arrange the car if you want.”

He flashed me a smile. “No, I think I’ll drive today. Did you—?”

“Get it washed and waxed? Yes.” I finished his sentence.

“Call the—?”

“—Call the company to install the new stereo system? Done.”

“Get the—?”

“—Get the tires rotated? Done, done, and done.”

“Thanks, Kyle. What would I do without you?” He tapped me on the cheek. Not the cheeks I wanted.

“Why don’t you have fun some time? Let loose,” I suggested.

Every moment of his life was scheduled, and I know because I scheduled it.

I hoped my hint would clue him in that we could let loose together.

Sighing, he said, “Got too much to do.”

“Yeah but, I mean, be more spontaneous in your life. Go for what you want. Have fun.”

He smiled and approached me. “Tell you what…You like mushrooms with cream sauce?”

“Yeah?” Well, I liked mushroom heads with cream, but I didn’t dare say that.

“Good. How about some place quiet, romantic, money’s no object—just the two of us?”

I swallowed hard. “Really?” A romantic dinner with him would be a dream come true. My heart pounded like a gerbil’s.

“Absolutely,” he said. “You don’t think it’s too much, do you?”

I blushed. “No, not at all.”

“Good. Set it up for next Friday—not this Friday—at Pretenzioso Italian restaurant. Put it under my name.”

Wait. Now, he’d confused me.  I stopped typing for a second and said, “Huh?”

“Well, I have no idea what his real name is, and I can’t put HotGuy69. But it should be perfect for the two of us,” he said. Holy shit.

His eyes lit up as he continued. “Kyle, I’m going to ask him out. I’m tired of this whole cyber thing. I want to meet the real guy. You’ve inspired me.”

“Uh…thanks.” I didn’t know if I should be hurt or panic. I’d have to find an excuse for why the cyber creation I’d made couldn’t make it.

He smiled warmly at me. “You’re so good to me. Why can’t I get a guy like you?”

I shrugged. Before I could answer, he said, “Thanks for being such a good employee.”

Employee? That’s it. Not even friend? I wanted to lower my head to my desk and rest it in my arms.

His phone dinged with a text, and he checked it, smiling at the message. “Call and cancel my appointment, would you? And can you man the fort while I’m gone?” said Mr. Swoon as he grabbed his liquor flask, stuffed it in his pocket along with his keys. He’d had a tendency to sneak in a swig or two from time to time.

“Sure, but what’s going on?” I asked.

“I want to grab some lunch before I go to his house.”

My heart fucking stopped in my chest. “His house?”

“I didn’t tell you? Remember that private investigator, Turk?”

Hadn’t heard that name in awhile. “Yeah, the one who helped you find that stalker guy?”

“Yeah. He text messaged me. He’s about to track down where HotGuy69 lives.”

My blood froze. “Wait. What?” This couldn’t be happening.

“Yeah, his IP address or something. Anyway, he says he should have him pinned down in about an hour and I wanna check it out. Maybe knock on his door and say ‘hello’. You said I should be more spontaneous in my life and go for what I want? Here’s my shot.”

“Wait. What?” My heart pounded.

“Ciao,” said Mr. Swoon. And before I could say anything more, he left.