Page 67 of The Bro Date
“Yeah,” I grunt. “Fine.” But I can already feel my eye swelling up.
“Ouch, bro,” Jake hisses. “Sorry we weren’t here. Where is the fucker?” he snarls, scouring the room before finding a still-fuming Landon being held back by his friend. “Who are these losers?” Jake laughs mockingly.
“The rabid one is Landon, and the guy with dark hair who’s holding him back is Alex. Who I’m never speaking to again,” Tate says, wrinkling his upper lip in disgust. “Alex, don’t text me anymore! It’s over!” Tate shouts across the room.
“What?!Seriously?” he yells back, looking heartbroken. “Come on, Tate! What did I do?!”
“You’re friends with that fucker!Major red flag!Now delete my number, Alex!”
Spencer wraps an arm around Tate, pulling him into his side for comfort. “Fuck that loser, you hear me?”
“Yeah. You don’t need him, babe,” Daija adds.
“Tate, don’t be like that, please!” Alex hollers, looking devastated, before his pain turns to anger, and he shakes Landon roughly. “I’m gonna let go now. Just chill the fuck out, okay? This is all your fault.”
“I’m cool, man. Just let go of me,” Landon sneers.
“Can we get out of here?” I ask no one in particular, grimacing when I touch my sore cheekbone. I really don’t want to fight again.
“Go home, guys. We got your back,” Spencer whispers with his arm still around Tate.
“We’ll get these two home safely,” Jake says, offering his elbow to Daija. “I already called an Uber.”
She slips her arm through his, and they bring up the rear as we all leave this fucking place. Our friends wait out front for their rideshare, while Toby and I head to my truck.
I swear I will never go to another frat party as long as I live.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SHANE
We get home from the party and kick our shoes off by the front door. My face throbs, and my eye is swelling up from the fight with Landon, but I’m not one to whine, so I don’t say anything.
“We need to get ice on that,” Toby urges, his brows creased with worry. “It’ll help stop the swelling.”
I follow him to the kitchen on autopilot, my mind spinning with replays of tonight. He gets out a soft ice pack and fills it with ice from the refrigerator door. I lean against the kitchen counter and fold my arms across my chest, staring at the grout lines in the tile while everything goes out of focus.
“Put this on your eye, Shane. He hit you really hard,” Toby hiccups, and I glance up from the floor at the distressed sound, narrowing my eyes on his quivering lip and watery stare.
“Butterfly,” I murmur, taking two large steps forward and wrapping him in my arms. “I’m okay, I promise. He barely got me.” That might be a half-truth, but he doesn’t need to know that my teeth ache, and my eye socket is throbbing from Landon’s punches. Because I’d take a thousand more for him. “Thanks for the ice, it’ll help,” I add, pressing the soft fabric to my eye and relishing the cold. I take a deep breath and close my other eye,trying to shake off tonight. Landon’s disrespect makes me want to protect Toby from the world and make him mine. Officially.
“I hate that tonight ended like that,” he sniffles. “I just wanted us to have fun. You were right, we should have just stayed in.”
“Hey.Listen. I’m fine. Don’t be so hard on yourself,” I murmur gently, lifting his chin with my forefinger. “None of this is your fault. Absolutely none of it,” I reiterate, giving him a soft peck on the lips.
“Okay. Thanks, Shane.” Toby smiles weakly and grabs two water bottles from the fridge before leading me toward the stairs. “Let’s get you to bed,” he says over his shoulder, and I can’t help but stare at his perfect ass taking step after step all the way up. I follow him into my bedroom, where he pulls back the covers and motions for me to get in.
I slip out of my jeans and T-shirt, sliding into the cool sheets in nothing but my boxer briefs. I got a small glimpse of the underwear Toby grabbed before he went to the bathroom to change, and I’m dying to see him in it. “Gonna join me?” I ask
“Yes. But put that back on your eye,” Toby insists, so I listen to my nurse, sighing when the cold relieves some of the ache. He slips the loose tank top over his head and then shimmies out of his tight Bermuda shorts. My breath hitches when he’s standing before me in nothing but a silky purple thong. “My feet are cold,” he says innocently, turning around to look in my sock drawer.
I grit my teeth and curse the sharp pain that radiates through my aching jaw.
Fuck, his ass is amazing, and I can’t wait to get my hands on it again.
“Get over here,” I growl, and Toby just giggles, knowing exactly what he’s doing when he bends over to slip my socks on.
Toby spins around with his dimples on full display, standing there in a purple thong and my tall white crew socks. I drink himin, taking a mental picture that I will cherish forever. He laughs shyly, running a hand through his thick, messy curls.
