Page 6 of The Bro Date
My cheeks flush, realizing I’ve been staring at him this whole time, and I’ve hardly touched my food beyond a couple bites.
A buzz in my pocket saves me from having to come up with an answer, because I definitely can’t tell him I was staring athimfor five minutes.
“Shit. It’s my mom.”
I’ve been avoiding her since before spring break.
Aren’t you going to say hello to your parents now that you're back in town? I’m starting to think you’re avoiding us.
Maybe because I am.
I reply quickly since I can’t get away with ignoring her anymore. Poor cell service is no longer an excuse.
Sorry, Mother. Of course not. I’ve been getting ready for classes to start again.
School is usually an acceptable excuse for her, even if she’s disappointed that I want to pursue music full-time andnotsell real estate.
Dinner at six sharp tonight. It’s not a request, Tobias.
“Fuck me,” I complain, knowing I don’t have a choice, and texting her back like a good son.
Yes, ma’am.
“What’s wrong?” Shane asks, setting his knife and fork down and turning those dreamy fucking eyes on me.
“My parents are forcing me over for dinner tonight,” I complain with a frustrated sigh.
I wish Shane could come with me as a buffer because without him, it’s no holds barred. They will tell me exactly what they think of me, no matter how much it could hurt.
“Need a dinner date?” Shane asks, halting my building panic. “Maybe a bodyguard?”
More like a knight in shining armor.
“Yes,” I breathe out in relief. “Please and thank you.”
I swear he can read my mind.
“On one condition, though,” Shane says with a smirk. “Finish your damn breakfast before I feed it to you myself.”
I hate the way my stomach fills with butterflies, and my body desperately wants to let him. All I can do is laugh it off and finish the rest of my food like he told me to.
“Thank you,” I say, pouring as much heart into those two words as I can. “For breakfast, and for coming with me tonight as my emotional support Shane.”
I hope he knows how much I mean it.
“I think I prefer bodyguard.” He reaches over, giving the back of my neck a tender squeeze and sending shockwaves down my spine and straight to my dick.
Fuuck.
“What time should we leave?” Shane asks with a small smile, completely oblivious to my inner turmoil as he gazes down at me with affection. His rough palm continues to massage my neck, his long fingers snaking into my hair and causing goosebumps to erupt across my skin.
“F-five,” I stutter, my cock involuntarily chubbing up. I bite my lower lip to stop an embarrassing moan from slipping out.
He finally lets go, and I don’t know if I want to cry in relief or disappointment.
Good Lord, it is beyond fucked up to get a hard-on for your straight best friend.
What the hell is wrong with me?
