Page 23 of The Bro Date
The kid seems unsure, but pockets the money anyway and sells me a ticket to some rom-com I’ve never heard of, informing me it started close to an hour ago.
I sneak into the dark movie theater with my hood pulled up, hunching over to hide my tall frame. Picking a spot at the very back, I sit right under the projector, front and center with a bird’s-eye view. I scan the half-full theater, searching for Toby’s curly head and finding him a few rows down on the left, holding hands and sharing popcorn with a different guy than the one from the coffee shop. My gaze narrows, and I grip the armrests like I’m about to Hulk out and rip them off.
I don’t like this.
At all.
Seeing Toby hang out with strange men doesn’t feel right. In fact, it feels downright shitty. He should be spending that time with me. If I knew he wanted to go to a rom-com, I would have taken him myself.
I alternate between staring at the back of his date’s head and whatever the hell is happening on the big screen. After a long day of classes and then work, I start to doze off. My head nods, and I jolt awake, blinking rapidly while I attempt to refocus on my target. The guy has his arm around Toby now, rubbing his bare skin back and forth. I fight the urge to catapult down there, pry his grimy fingers off my best friend, and bend them backward until he screams for mercy.
I don’t know how much more time passes before the movie ends, but if my eyes had lasers, this fucker would have a hole through his skull. The credits finally roll, and I slouch down in my seat, waiting for the theater to clear before I sneak out after everyone. Under no circumstances can Toby see me here. He just wouldn’t understand.
I’m not stalking him.
I’mprotectinghim.
When I step outside, I immediately spot them and dart behind a freestanding movie poster, crouching down to pretend like I’m tying my shoe.
Shit.
They’re right fucking there.
“I had fun tonight,” Toby says so sweetly that my stomach aches.
I peek around the sign, unable to stop myself from looking. Toby smiles up at his date, who’s nearly as tall as me, with a buzz cut, ice blue eyes, and some lame-ass fraternity hoodie.
He doesn’t deserve Toby’s smile.
The fucker leans in, caressing Toby’s jaw and puckering his lips. I grip the edge of the metal frame, trying to stop myself from jumping up and karate kicking him in the face.
He certainly doesn’t deserve Toby’s kiss.
Thankfully, Toby dodges the unwanted advance, stepping back a clear three feet. “I don’t kiss on the first date, Tristan,” he says matter-of-factly with more respect than this asshole deserves. “I told you that.”
“Are you serious right now?” Tristan scoffs. “Whatever. I’m not wasting any more of my time with avirgin. I’m only here to fuck, and if that’s not gonna happen, then you canwalkhome.”
My jaw clenches painfully as I watch Toby sputter, standing there in complete shock while his date stomps off to the parking lot.
Blowing my cover in an instant, I jump out from behind the movie poster like a real-life superhero to confront this asshole who thinks he can talk to my best friend like that and just abandon him on the street.
“Hey fuckboy!” I yell at his retreating back, smirking when he responds to the name by stopping and turning around. “If I ever see you around campus, you better fuckingrun.”
“And who the hell are you?” he asks, glancing between me and Toby with a creased brow.
“I’m the guy who’s gonna kick your ass and drive your date home, you piece of shit,” I growl.
“Whatever.I don’t need this,” he sneers, power walking the rest of the way to his car and peeling out of the parking lot like the pathetic loser he is.
During the confrontation with Tristan, Toby wandered away and started walking down the sidewalk, like he’s on autopilot.
I rush to my truck, slowly rolling up next to him and cranking the window down. “Hey, stranger. Need a ride?” I joke, leaningan elbow out of the open window. I’m trying to make light of a shitty situation that could have ended way worse.
“What are you doing here, Shane?” Toby asks skeptically, his big, watery eyes staring up at me. “Did youstalkme?”
“I . . . No. ’Course not.”
Fuck, that’s a lie. An absolute lie.
