Page 22 of The Bro Date
“Toby has a girlfriend,” Spencer says teasingly, like we’re still in fucking middle school.
I tighten my hold on Toby and narrow my eyes at Spencer, giving a quick shake of my head, hoping he gets the message to fuckingstop.
“Really? Who is she?” Jake asks with an overexcited smile. “Do we know her?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Spencer volleys back. “What color hair does she have, Tobes? You gotta give us some clues, bro.”
“Yeah, man. What year is she?”
“Just stop!” Toby suddenly shouts, pushing my arm off his shoulders and jumping up from the couch. “Just shut up, okay? I don’t have a girlfriend,” he says before taking a deep breath.
I wish I could stand up and wrap my arms around him, but this is his moment.
“I don’t have a girlfriend, because I’m gay.”
The silence is loud, all of us seeming to be frozen in place.
My legs finally work, and I stand next to Toby. “Doesn’t change anything,” I say, and that seems to snap our roommates into motion.
“Of course not, man.” Spencer looks remorseful for his teasing, but Jake starts to get one of those shit-eating grins that means trouble.
“So, then. Do you have aboyfriend?” Jake asks, and I twitch, damn near lunging for him.
Toby’s warm hand circles mine, squeezing gently to let me know it’s fine. “No. I don’t.”
It still doesn’t explain the giggles and secret phone conversations, but I let it slide.
For now.
I also let Jake’s rude question slide, because my roommates are actually pretty cool guys when they’re not trying to give everyone a hard time. The four of us pick up right where we left off with COD, as if Toby didn’t just come out. The rest of the afternoon is spent with a never-ending charcuterie board provided by yours truly, way too many multiplayer tournaments, and my best fucking friends.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SHANE
It’s Monday night, and I’ve got thirty minutes left on my shift at The Sandbar. I’m painstakingly counting down the minutes until I can clock out and check my phone. After seeing Toby on a date and overhearing him giggling in his bedroom, I started opening theFind My Friendsapp way more often than I ever have. Even though we gave each other access years ago, I realize I’m invading his privacy by doing this. But I can’t seem to care because I have to keep him safe.
“Hey, sweetie,” Ms. Harriet says in greeting as she pulls a hairnet over her silver curls. “How you doin’ tonight?” Her thick, southern drawl is always so sincere.
“Doing well, and you?” I ask my favorite coworker, happy to see her.
Ms. Harriet smiles. “Always so well-mannered you are, Shane. I’m doin’ great. My arthritis is behaving, so that means this grandma can cook!”
I smile, glancing back at the flat top so I don’t burn the chicken breasts. “Glad to hear it.”
“Well, go ahead and clock out early if you want to. You’re a good-looking boy, I’m sure you’ve got all sorts of girls lined up and waitin’ on ya. We’re slow enough, so if the bossman’s got aproblem with it, he can take it up with me.” She winks, holding up two wrinkled fists.
“Ms. Harriet, you're a lifesaver.” I hug her very gently, and she chuckles heartily, shooing me out of the kitchen. I grab my stuff, sneaking out the back and down the alleyway.
As soon as I climb into my truck, I immediately open what’s become my personal stalking app and feel a jolt of panic when I see that Toby isn’t at the house. I zoom in closer, realizing he’s at the movie theater. Fuck. He’s probably on another date, and that bothers me more than I’m willing to admit to myself.
It doesn’t take me long to get to the theater when I hit every green light along the way as if the universe itself is urging me there.
Monday nights are usually slow, so I walk right up to the ticket booth. “You seen this guy?” I ask, pressing my phone to the plexiglass window and showing the dude working there a photo of Toby.
“Why? You a cop or something?” he asks skeptically.
I slip him a twenty through the window. “Nah. Just looking for my friend.”
