Page 5 of The Bro Date
Even though I was sort of an accidental dick last night, I'm glad he’s not that upset because I love when Shane cooks for me.
I really missed it.
I missed him.
Most mornings, we eat in the cafeteria using our meal plans, but I always look forward to the weekends when I’m graced with the pleasure of eating Shane’s food.
A rush of dizziness hits me when I stand up too fast, so I perch on the edge of the bed and close my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before releasing it slowly.
Man, I fucked up last night.
In more ways than one.
I stand up slowly this time, grabbing the sweatpants and hoodie draped over the back of my desk chair and slipping them on. I spot Shane’s favorite jean jacket in a crumpled heap on the floor, so I pick it up and press it to my nose for a quick second, inhaling the spicy, familiar scent of his cologne.
“Mmm,” I moan, wishing I could wear it all day.
But that would be weird. Right?
I take one last sniff before folding it nicely and placing it on top of my dresser. I’ll give it back later.
Padding down the hall with bare feet, I lock myself in the bathroom to freshen up before I make my way to the kitchen.
The rich, earthy aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills my nostrils as I descend the stairs slowly, careful not to trip since I’m still a little dizzy.
Shane’s back is turned, his attention focused on the skillet in front of him. He’s standing there in nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants, and I swear he’s doing this to me on purpose.
I grab a mug and make myself a much-needed cup of coffee, adding plenty of creamer.
“Sorry about last night,” I blurt, taking my seat at the island.
“How are you feeling?” Shane asks, ignoring my apology and plating up perfectly cooked, over-easy eggs on top of avocado toast.
“A little hungover, but I’ll survive,” I admit.
“You have to take better care of yourself,” he says matter-of-factly, setting a plate in front of me and pouring a tall glass of orange juice to go with it.
I take a deep breath, releasing a dramatic sigh. “Don’t worry, I’m never playing beer pong again,” I vow, desperate to get some food into my belly to soak up any remaining alcohol and give me some energy.
“Good,” Shane says simply, taking a seat next to me and digging into his food.
I smile at how easy that was for us to get over. Shane never holds a grudge. He’s always been there for me, even last night when I was being a drunk idiot.
Scooping up a rogue spoonful of Shane’s creamy avocado spread, I hum at the delicious flavor. “I missed your cooking,” I admit, peeking at him out of the corner of my eye.
Shaggy dark hair hangs over his forehead, blocking intense brown eyes from view. His strong jaw flexes as he chews, drawing my gaze to perfectly shaped lips I’ve dreamed of kissing ever since I was in ninth grade and first realized I had a crush on my best friend. The thought of losing him terrified me so much that I locked up the possibility of being gay until recently.
Really recently.
While I was hiding out from the world down in Key West and hopelessly contemplating my sexuality, I decided I’m finally ready to pursue my attraction to guys. I can’t continue living in the closet just because I fell in love with my straight best friend.
I need to branch out and take risks.
I need to date.
A couple nights ago, I downloaded one of those gay dating apps, but I’ve been too chickenshit to open it and make an account. I still count it as progress though because I’ve got to dosomethingto stop thinking about how fucking hot Shane is?—
“What’re you looking at?” he mumbles, swiping his messy hair back and observing me with concern.
