Page 15 of Starved

Then a smile tipped the corners of his lips. “And make out.”

That smile had a dreamy sigh leaping to Colin’s lips. “A date sounds nice.”

Evan grinned, boyishly eager. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Colin answered, then grimaced. His dick was straining his sweats, eager to come out and play. “But I guess this means I’m living with these blue balls for a while.”

“Not for long,” Evan promised, with a nip at Colin’s lower lip. “Not for long.”

4

Colin eyed himself critically in the mirror. Evan wouldn’t tell him where they were going, wanting to keep it a surprise, and his only instruction had been to dress casually. The problem with that was that he and Evan had very different ideas of what casual meant. For Colin it meant leaving his tie at home; for Evan, it could be anything from jeans and a t-shirt to basketball shorts and no shirt.

When he’d asked for clarification, Evan had chuckled and told him to ‘just be comfortable’.

“Unhelpful,” Collin muttered, and staring at his reflection, tried to decide if he should change his sweater again. He’d purchased the emerald green crew neck on a whim and had never worn it, mostly because the color was so much brighter and bolder than he was used to. But everything else he’d tried on so far had seemed blah and unremarkable, not exactly the impression he wanted to make on a first date.

It didn’t matter that he and Evan had known each other for a decade and a half—this was their first date, and he wanted it to be perfect.

Deciding to stick with the sweater, he turned his attention to his pants. He'd chosen a pair of jeans, neatly pressed, the crease a knife’s edge down his thigh. Normally he’d have worn a pair of slacks, but with no idea where they were going, he decided to err on the side of Evan-casual.

He frowned at the sweater again, wondering if the heather blue half-zip cashmere would look better, then grimaced. He’d be at this all night if he wasn’t careful, so he stepped away, snagging the boots he’d already pulled from his closet, and walked out of the bedroom.

In the living room, he set the boots down and checked the watch strapped to his wrist. He had ten minutes before Evan was due to arrive. “Perfect,” he muttered and flopped onto the couch. “Just enough time to freak out.”

Evan cursedwhen his phone rang. Getting ready had taken longer than he’d planned, mostly because he spent ten minutes searching for the jeans he’d washed specifically to wear tonight. When he finally found them sitting in the dryer, they were so wrinkled he’d had to throw in a wet washcloth and run it for ten minutes to steam them back into a wearable state. Then he’d discovered his deodorant was empty and wasted several minutes digging through his stuff-I-bought-in-bulk-when-it-was-on-sale bin for a new one before he remembered he’d put the pack under the sink in his bathroom. As a result, he was leaving the house fifteen minutes later than he should have.

He did not have time to talk to his sister.

But he knew if he didn’t answer, she’d just keep calling until he did. And with Claire pregnant, he didn’t like to ignore calls. So he jammed his phone into the holder on his dash, turned on the engine, and answered on speaker. “What?”

“Nice mood you’re in,” Liza drawled. “Little nervous, are we?”

Evan shoved the gear shift into reverse and backed out of the parking space. “I’m late.”

“And nervous.”

“You’re nervous,” he muttered, shifting into first, and sped down the road.

Liza’s trilling laugh filled the car. “He’s nervous, Claire.”

“Did you just call to bust my balls?” he wondered and sped up to zip through a yellow light.

“That, and to wish you good luck.”

“Good luck, Evan!” another voice shouted in the background.

“Claire says good luck, too.”

“Thank you, Claire.” He slowed down for a turn, taking it on two wheels.

“Geez, Ev, slow down. I can hear your tires squealing over the phone.”

“I’m going the speed limit,” he said, the needle on the speedometer pushing fifty.

“You are not.”

He took his foot off the gas reluctantly. “Am so.”

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