Page 21 of Boyfriend for the Weekend
“I kept trying to find reasons to talk to him,” I add, committing to the story. “The washing machine in the basement was constantly broken, so that became my go-to excuse.”
Caroline laughs softly, and Maya grins.
It’s not entirely a lie, which probably explains why the words come so easily.
When I moved in two years ago, I noticed Noah almost immediately. It was hard not to—big brown eyes, soft curls, and a compact athletic build. Also, objectively speaking, a very nice ass.
But it wasn’t just that. Every now and then, when we crossed paths in the hallway, I’d catch Noah watching me for a second longer than a casual hello required. Nothing obvious—just that extra beat before we both moved on.
After a while I started noticing it more. And, for reasons I never really questioned, I began looking for those moments: the hallway nods, complaining about the building’s ancient plumbing, joking about the laundry room flooding every other month.
I smile a little. “I don’t think I’ve ever talked about laundry so much with anyone in my life.”
Caroline lets out another laugh, and Daniel chuckles beside her.
Noah turns to look at me fully now, perfectly still, as if any sudden movement might make the whole story collapse. His brown eyes search mine, and for a moment I wonder if he can tell I’m not entirely lying.
“I wanted to ask him out properly,” I continue, looking back at his mom, “but he never leaves his apartment, so it was hard to find the courage to knock on his door without a reason.”
“Noah!” Caroline says, throwing her son a disapproving look. “I told you you spend too much time in front of that computer. That’s why you’re always so pale, sweetheart.”
Noah blinks, like he’s just remembering where he is. Color rushes into his face, turning him from pale to crimson in seconds. He shoots me a look that clearly saysYou’ll pay for this, his lips pressed into a tight line that looks suspiciously close to twitching—I can’t tell whether from amusement or outrage.
“So when did you finally ask him out?” Maya says, clearly enjoying her brother’s discomfort.
“About two months ago,” I say, mentally checking the timeline from Noah’s instruction sheet. “I was coming home from a night shift, and he was coming back from the grocery store. We ended up in the elevator together, and I just went for it.”
Noah’s expression softens slightly.
I can tell he’s impressed with my improvisation. I’m threading the truth through the lie just enough to make the whole thing sound believable. The elevator part is actually true—we did run into each other a couple of months ago under almost the same circumstances.
“That’s really sweet,” Maya says, giving both me and her brother a crooked smile before focusing back on me. “Finally Mom will have someone else to torture about Noah spending all day at home and barely eating.” She presses her lips together solemnly. “Rest in peace, Connor.”
“Oh, stop it,” Caroline says. “You know I’m right. Noah needs to be more active. Connor, tell them how important staying active is for your health.”
“It’s very important,” I say, nodding.
Beside me, Noah rolls his eyes so hard his head tilts back with it.
“Regular physical activity is one of the best things you can do for your health,” I add, grinning at him.
He scoffs and leans closer, his breath brushing my ear. “Suck up.”
I snort, holding his gaze. “You should get more active, Noah.”
The corners of his mouth twitch, like he’s trying not to smile.
“Exactly,” Caroline says, sounding almost triumphant. “Finally someone’s talking sense to my boy. He needs that.”
“Mom,” Noah protests, but there’s no real heat behind it.
I bite back a smile. There’s something oddly endearing about seeing him like this—embarrassed but clearly loved, folded into this easy, teasing family rhythm.
“Speaking of getting active,” Daniel says, glancing around the table, “how about we go horseback riding and burn off some of those pancakes? There are stables here, and the trails along the lake are beautiful.” He looks at me. “Connor, what do you say?”
My stomach tightens at the wordhorseback, the easy mood from a second ago disappearing all at once.
I haven’t been on a horse since I was fourteen, and there’s a reason for that. The first and only time I tried, the horse bolted across the field before I even understood what was happening. One second I was just sitting there, and the next I was clinging to the reins as it tore across the grass. Then it threw me off hard. I hit the ground and rolled onto my back, the wind knocked out of me. Before I could even catch my breath, the horse circled back, its hooves pounding into the dirt close enough to my head that I was sure I was about to get trampled.
