Secret Admirer - D.J. Jamison

Acknowledgments

Secret Admirer would probably still be languishing on my desktop if it weren’t for the encouragement and support of my fellow authors, especially my sprint team. Thank you, guys, for committing to early mornings so that we could write together and get our books out into the world! I also want to thank my beta readers, Gwen, Anita, Susan, and Michael for helping me make Secret Admirer the best it could be, as well as my editor, Posy Roberts, my cover designer, Cate Ashwood, and my formatter, Gwen Martin. It truly takes a village to put together a beautiful book! And then there’s you, dear reader. I couldn’t do any of it without you. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading.

Your Secret Admirer…

Benji

I flicked the movie tickets in my hand, scanning the block up and down. Searching for any sign of my date.

My first college date. First date ever.

A ball of nerves tightened inside me. I wasn’t good at this kind of thing, even in the best circumstances — and these were clearly not the best circumstances. My date was late. Really late.

In high school, I’d been the only gay boy — at least who was out — which meant no pressure to date. There were no options. It might have depressed some guys. Not me. The guy I loved was out of reach, anyway. So, I stayed in my room most nights, drawing and watching anime, living vicariously through stories and art.

But I wasn’t in high school anymore. I was in college, trying to turn over a new leaf. Making a new start as the older, more sophisticated Benjamin McKenzie.

I wanted to leave timid Benji behind and embrace the vision of myself as an artist finally spreading his wings, a pretty picture my older brother had painted to persuade me to attend the small school two hundred miles from home.

Of course, Jeremy was supposed to be here teaching me to fly. He’d gotten into a fellowship program in Chicago at the last minute — one too good to turn down to hold his baby brother’s hand. I hadn’t been angry. It was a great opportunity for him. But Jeremy had been the one to convince me to enroll, promising to be my safety net, and now he wasn’t here.

Just his best friend. His gorgeous, unattainable best friend.

Don’t think about Ace, think about Kaleb.

Kaleb, who was nowhere to be seen no matter how hard I stared at the trickle of people making their way to restaurants and bars. I was off campus but close enough that the streets were filled with twenty-somethings looking to hang out or hook up, or both. Maybe I should have suggested something more fun. Seeing a band, or even … meeting up in his room for the obvious. But I was embarrassingly inexperienced. Instead, I’d gone for the safe option: a movie.

Boring, right? So much for sophisticated. I might have chosen an art exhibit instead, but we’d spent several afternoons working on art projects together. It felt a little been there, done that. Besides, I loved the historic theater. It was sophisticated. And it should have been perfect for a film major like Kaleb, but … maybe I was alone in that thinking because Kaleb still — wasn’t — here!

Behind me, a large marquee rose up, decked out with red letters. Inside, marble floors, velvety reupholstered chairs, and brass detail work set the historic theater apart from its more modern counterparts. It was beautiful, classy.

Lonely.

I checked my phone for the millionth time. No calls. No texts. My eyes skated over the words I’d sent to him, going from calm and quizzical to just shy of frantic. Unable to write one more desperate message, I hit the call button instead.

It went straight to voicemail. I waited five minutes and tried again with the same result. Scanning over my texts, I realized only half of them showed the delivered tag.

Omfg! Did he block me?

I stared at my phone in betrayal. A dozen little clues began to coalesce. Kaleb’s flirty invitation for us to work on our art projects together. His frustration with the project, his worry about his grades, his indulgent smile when I helped him just a little too much.

I’d been played, hadn’t I? Of course I had.

I clenched the tickets so tightly they bent.

Why else would a cute guy like Kaleb ask me out? He was way out of my league. With floppy red hair and a freckled face a little too