Page 32 of First Puck

“It, um… It smells of you.”

“Is that a bad thing?” I asked, my brows shooting up in surprise.

“No!” he said suddenly. “No, it’s fine! I was just saying…”

His blush kept getting stronger and stronger. I never knew he’d be so excited to go on a date.

I mean, if it was his first, I had to make sure he looked like a sex god. But, like, y’know… nottoosexy. He didn’t want women drooling all over him like they did with me.

If I gave him one of my V-necked tees, I’m pretty sure he’d make the room go wild with his chest and abs.

I stepped back to take a proper look at him. With beige slacks, brown loafers, and a dull dark green dress shirt, he looked like a normal guy going for a normal dinner.

It was all good.

Apart from the ball in my chest that was getting harder to ignore the more we got into it. It was getting so big it was pulsing in my throat, like I was going to throw up if I let Alex leave.

Alex slumming around in jeans and a shirt was fine, but Alex all primped and polished made me want to lock up the house and make him play Xbox all night just so I had him to myself. I just hoped the girl he wouldn’t tell me the name of appreciated what she was getting.

“Hey, straighten your back,” I said. “You don’t want your date to see you hunched over.” I came in close, running my hand along his lower back as I made sure he stood tall and proud.

His shoulders went up around his ears as he looked at himself in the mirror in the door of my closet.

“Are you sure this is okay? It’s kind of fancy,” he asked, biting his fucking lip again. It would probably be too much to reach up and just tug it out of his teeth so he stopped winding me up.

“It really isn’t. Anyway, listen, you’re seriously hot. You’ve got to make sure she sees that.”

It was my own fault I inhaled. His scent wasn’t any different than usual—it was just that floral sweetness that was his mom’s laundry soap creeping over me.

And it was my own fucking fault that I leaned in closer, so my chest knocked against his arm.

He didn’t flinch away, but he definitely stiffened up again. Another shaky breath, another bob of his throat, and I was tempted to do something else to make him moan.

“Okay, sorry. Is it more like this?” He looked at me with determination as he straightened himself to his full height, his chin straight, his chest swelling as he took a deep breath.

Standing next to him, my chest pressed against his arm, I realized that I always looked up at him. Maybe it was just so natural that I never thought about it, but with him posing there like he was some supermodel, it was so obvious.

“Brad?” He tilted his head toward me. “Do I look okay?”

I blinked up at him. Freshly shaven smooth skin, the shirt I’d lent him defining his wide shoulders and hinting at his solid-as-fuck abs. But I wasn’t thinking about that, because I was too busy staring.

And the look he gave me, with those pretty eyes and his shy smile, the thought that he was going to be laying it on some girl tonight on his very first date, made me feel…

“Weird,” I murmured.

This time, he really did flinch. The light I’d been falling into seconds ago vanished as I totally fucked up again.

“Is it really that bad?” he asked, hurt blaring from him.

“No, shit, sorry, man.” I gripped his forearm, pulling him back to me. “I just meant it’s strange seeing you going on a date without me,” I said hurriedly, not even thinking about the words coming out of my mouth.

“Why would I take you with me?”

My lips parted as I balked. What was I meant to say? I was making shit up left, right, and center.

Why would he take me? Because we did everything together. Because I was always there for him. Because I was the one who gave him all his firsts.

“Because I’m your wingman, aren’t I?” I laughed as I slapped him on the back, and he gave me a shaky grin.

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