Page 29 of First Puck

“Nu-uh, no way.” I shook my head furiously. I didn’t even want to look at the shirt. He was going to burn out the skulls of everyone within ten feet of him. And I was going to ignore the ugly feeling that sprung up in me when he said ‘first date,’ because this was way more important—for now.

“Alex, man, I love you, but I can’t deal with this.”

He sucked in a harsh breath, his eyes going suddenly wide. I swear some of the color faded from his skin, but his shirt was so intensely black and the flames were so powerfully red that I couldn’t even tell.

I was already on eggshells with him, even if he didn’t feel it. Insulting his dress sense could make everything a million times worse.

“When does your date start?” I sighed. Maybe there was enough time to sort out this train wreck. I could at least give him a better shirt.

“At eight. But I wanted to get there early, just in case.”

“A whole hour early!?”

“Well, it takes some time to get there.” He looked at me sheepishly. It was the small grin he had on his face that made my jaw tick.

“Okay, sure. We’ve still got time.” I puffed out my chest and crowded him enough that he stepped back in surprise.

“Hang on. What are you doing?”

“You’ll see!” I shouted as I forced him inside the bathroom and slammed the door.

Brad

“Alright, strip,” I said, dropping his hand and making a beeline for my drawers. “And the first thing we’re doing is shredding that shirt, because oh my God.”

It took ages to wash the gel out of his hair, and my hands were still kind of sticky. But I managed to get him cleaned up and then dragged him to my room for the finishing touches.

He wouldn’t tell me where he was going, so I’d make sure he had at least twenty minutes to get there.

“Brad, my date starts soon. I can’t just strip.” He rubbed his elbow as he stood in the middle of my room.

I waved off his words. “You’ve got at least twenty minutes. Just sit back and let me work my sexy magic. You want to look good for your first date, don’t you?” I asked over my shoulder as I searched through my drawers for something that would be passable.

I was so glad we weren’t in front of a mirror when I washed his hair and he told me it wasn’t just his first date with this girl, but it was his first dateever.

Because there was a heavy rock in my chest that felt insanely wrong, and it wasn’t leaving no matter how much I told it to fuck off.

“I do want to look good,” Alex said softly. “I really do. I just don’t want to mess it up.”

And thank fuck I was leaning over the drawers so he didn’t see the ugly pulse of jealousy that gut-punched me out of fucking nowhere.

My hand paused on a green shirt I thought would spruce him up a bit. But the sick feeling in my stomach combined with the gross ball of wrongness in my chest had my hand clenching around the shirt. It was telling me to leave it and choose the blandest, most boring clothes anyone had ever seen. Even though I didn’t really own anything like that.

I stared at the messily folded shirts, trying to figure out where all this shit was coming from.

I mean, it wasn’t like I didn’t get annoyed from time to time. But Alex didn’t mind if I was out all night or invited a girl over. He just went off and did his own thing. So, why was it bothering me?

I wouldn’t be such a dickhead to tell him not to go on a date with someone because I didn’t like the idea of him gettinga girlfriend. I mean, if he started dating someone, would he actually want to hang out with me anymore?

“Brad?” Alex’s gentle voice cut through my dumbass thoughts. Of course, Alex was always going to be there. He was my best friend. We were going to be together until the end.

“Sorry, yeah,” I grabbed the green shirt, suddenly not caring whether he looked good and more that he was prepared for whatever situation he could get himself into.

I spun on one foot, pressing my lips together at the sight of his bare chest.

He was sculpted as fuck, and it was pretty much a crime to put a shirt over it, especially that piece of trash he’d been wearing.

If he walked into a restaurant bare-chested like that, he’d get hit on immediately—by guys and girls. So I had to dress him in something that might put people off, but not in a fire shirt kind of way. Anyone stripping him before they fucked would be over the moon to find that piece of art underneath.

---