Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“And you save the fried chicken lo mein for the evenings?”
“Fuck you,” I said, giving Evan a playful shove.
“Happily,” he said. He sighed, running his hands through his hair. “God, I really don’t want to do this.”
I was stunned into silence for a moment. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if Evan regretted coming over, if he didn’t want to be around me anymore.
“Okay,” I finally said. “I thought we could pick up where we left off, but if you’re not comfortable, I understand—”
“What?” Evan asked, his expression incredulous. “No, you big dummy. I meant I don’t want to go on a date with Frankie tonight.”
“Oh. Of course, right,” I said. “In that case, I don’t blame you.”
“If he starts talking about his random theories about Bugs Bunny or something again, I’m going to lose it.”
“Evan, you do realize you can say no when people ask you to do things, right?”
He smiled faintly. “I’m thirty-two and I’m still awful at that.”
I shook my head slowly. “Don’t do things you don’t want to do. Unless it’s going to the dentist, because everyone needs to do that.”
“I wish it felt that easy to me,” Evan said. “Like I told you, I try to take every date I can get these days.”
I clenched my jaw. I really didn’t like that. I hated the idea that Evan didn’t realize how much of a catch he was. He was crazy to think he couldn’t have any guy he wanted.
“Maybe you could… I don’t know, come on a date with me instead of going with Frankie,” I said, talking before I’d really thought about what I was saying.
“Yeah. Right,” Evan said. “Like the ‘dates’ we used to take to the junkyard, and pretend we were going to uncover some secret discarded piece that would make us rich?”
“No. Like, I’m going to take you out for a date that will actually be fun,” I said. “Tell Frankie you have to cancel. I’ll pick you up at seven and we’ll get ourselves into some shenanigans together.”
My blood pressure felt like it had gone up about a billion points in the last minute, but I tried to sound casual, like I hadn’t just accidentally asked my best friend out on a date.
Realization spread over Evan’s face as he figured out that I was serious. It felt too good.
“You are crazy,” Evan said. “But I’ll text him and call it off. Also, what do you mean by actually fun?” he asked.
“Guess you’re going to have to find out.”
5
Evan
It’s just a friend date. A date, with my best friend. The one I really want to fuck. The one who has no idea I’m in love with him, or that I fall a little more in love every time he touches me.
No biggie, right?
I had forgotten how good it felt to have someone actually care about me.
Okay, okay. I know how bad that sounds. But Mitch had been totally right about Frankie. I didn’t have to go on a date with a guy who insulted me.
And I also didn’t have to be alone tonight, either. Mitch’s old Jeep pulled up outside my house at seven o’clock that night.
Scratch that—it was technically 6:45, because the man had been painfully early, arriving fifteen minutes early while I was still putting on my shirt. I’d opened the door shirtless and Mitch’s eyes had gone wide, gawking at my naked torso. He stammered something about waiting in the car and ran back to the Jeep.
Fucking adorable.
I’d noticed that he was dressed to the nines, wearing a crisp collared shirt and nice slacks. I was so used to seeing him in his usual athleticwear that the fancy clothes had made my dick do stupid things. I’d just been planning on wearing jeans and a shirt, but I quickly reconsidered. I tossed on the best shirt and slacks I had hanging in the back of my closet and made my way back to the Jeep.
He’d always been bashful, but not quite like that. I wondered if something else had him all flustered tonight.
Mr. Mitchell Blue Eyes looked me up and down as I slid into the passenger seat.
“Did I do okay?” I asked.
He swallowed. “Oh. Yes, of course. You look good. I mean—um—you look all right.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I know I couldn’t compete with you, but I thought I did okay.”
“Evan, you always look great,” he said.
“You’re one to talk. You look like a goddamn model.”
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do. You have the whole quarterback-off-duty sexy vibe going on.”
I noticed his cheeks redden again. I’d forgotten how bashful Mitch could be when I complimented him. It was one of the reasons he’d been willing to hang out with me in high school, even though I was a nerdy loser compared to him.
His football team did nothing but rag on him all day, but I couldn’t help but compliment him. And I knew he secretly loved it.