Page 97 of The Bro Date
“I’ll bring lunch. Meet me at our bench at noon.”
“Okay. See you then. Love you.”
“Love you too.” Shane ends the call, and I slip my phone back into my pocket, wishing lunch would hurry up and get here.
Two hours of organizing sheet music later, and it’s finally time for lunch. I grab my messenger bag and rush out of the door and down to the subway station a block away. It was a little daunting to manage at first, and I had to call Shane to come find me on more than one occasion, but I’ve gotten the hang of it now.
I’m at the park before I know it, smiling as a panoramic view of the East River and Lower Manhattan comes into view. The midday sun sparkles on the water’s surface while cars zoomacross the bridge, completely oblivious to this little slice of heaven down below.
I see him as I get closer to the water’s edge.
My boyfriend.
Dressed in all black and still wearing his chef’s coat, Shane is perched on our favorite bench, facing the water.
“Hey,” I say, ghosting my fingers over the back of his neck as I walk around and join him on the wooden bench, giving him a quick peck.
“Hey. How was your morning?” he asks, digging into the brown paper bag he brought from La Belle.
“Can’t complain. I’m in New York,” I respond with a smile, accepting the wrapped sandwich he hands me. “You?”
“Busy, but same. I’m really happy, Tobes. The happiest I think I’ve ever been.” He rests his hand on top of mine, squeezing gently.
“Me too,” I murmur, biting back the tears and facing the extraordinary view in front of us. “Me too.”
I hold up the handmade sign with Tate and Daija’s names on it, bouncing on my toes in the middle of the airport.
I’m so excited, I can hardly contain myself.
Shane surprised me by having my best friends visit for the weekend.
“Ahh! There they are!” I shout, holding the sign above my head and waving it to get their attention.
They squeal when they see me, running over with their luggage flying behind them.
“We missed you!” they both shout in unison, enveloping me in a group hug.
“I’m so proud of our baby gay,” Tate says, pressing a hand to his heart. “All grown up and in the big apple with his boyfriend.”
“Our little hatchling has flown the coop,” Daija teases, wiping a fake tear off her cheek.
Warmth fills my heart and my face.
“Sooo,” Tate drawls with a mischievous little smile. “Do you still use your fake ID? Because you know we would fuck shit up in NYC, honey.”
Shane side-eyes the three of us, and we burst out laughing. “Absolutely not,” he growls, folding his arms across his chest and furrowing his dark brows. “I’ve got a reservation at a respectable cocktail lounge in SoHo.”
Tate loops his arms through mine and Daija’s, smiling up at Shane innocently. “Well, that sounds like fun, too.”
We take an Uber back to the apartment since Tate and Daija have luggage with them. It’s a tight fit, but they’re staying with us both nights and sleeping on the couches. I give them an extremely short tour, and then we start the logistical nightmare of four people getting ready to go out for the night. It’s not ideal, but we make it work.
I step out of the bathroom, freshly showered and completely dressed.
“Fit check!” Tate yells way too loudly, making Shane glower at him.
“Oh my God!” Daija squeals.“The outfit is giving, and the body is tea!” She twirls her finger, indicating I should do a little spin.
I indulge my friends and turn around slowly, showing off how great my ass looks in these tight white jeans. My linen shirt is unbuttoned at the top, revealing smooth, tan skin. I make eye contact with a dark, possessive stare, and electricity crackles along my skin, fueling the desire growing inside me.
