10 Ways to Accidentally Fall in Love

Chapter 14

Joey

“Joey-roo!” Brad says the moment I open the door. “Look! Look what I got you.”

He’s holding out a fanny pack.

In bright yellow.

With the name Brad written in jewels across the front.

“Is that…bedazzled?” I ask.

“Did it myself,” he says proudly. “C’mere.”

Brad doesn’t wait for me to step forward, instead swooping in to wrap the fanny pack around my midsection. It clicks into place, and he tugs my shirt a few times, as if needing to make sure everything is settled just so.

I look down at the ridiculous piece of adornment. I want to hate it. I want to hate it so bad.

“Pretty snazzy, right?” Brad asks, peeking around my shoulder. “Hey, your place is nice.”

“I’ll, uh, give you a tour sometime.”

“Maybe later if we get lucky, huh?” he says, waggling his eyebrows before his face does something complicated. “Wait, no. That doesn’t make sense. I wouldn’t stick around if Logan came back here. Heh. No, that’d be weird. Let’s go!”

I follow Brad to his car in a bit of a daze. It takes me longer than I’d like to admit to realize Brad is also wearing a fanny pack. A neon green one. And on the front…

“Bub,” I say slowly. “Does that have my name on it?”

Brad grins, stopping near the front of his vehicle. Joey shines in gaudy jewels on the front of his fanny pack. “Yeah, man! We match. Matching packs.”

“Shouldn’t we be wearing our own names?” I ask, more than a little bewildered.

He scoffs. “No way. Like this, everyone will know we’re besties. Bros gotta look out for each other’s fannies, dude.”

I…have no words.

“Did you get Logan one?” I ask, not sure what I want his answer to be. Frankly, I know hardly anything about this Logan, but Brad assures me he’s a winner.

Brad looks abashed. “I didn’t think of it. Do you think he’ll mind?”

Will Logan mind that his date is wearing the name of another man? A man who happens to be attending said date like an overprotective chaperone, who’s touchy-feely and cares so damn much it’s palpable, even though his feelings are painfully platonic?

“Should be fine,” I assure Brad, despite knowing we’re bound for disaster.

As it turns out, Logan seems…nice. His eyebrows rise as Brad greets him near the entrance to the stadium, his gaze flicking down first to Brad’s fanny pack and then to my own. But there’s a smile on his face when he and Brad embrace as if they’re best of friends.

Logan steps forward once they part, introducing himself before Brad has a chance to do the honors. “Logan Carmichael.”

I accept his outstretched hand, unable not to take him in at least a little. He’s handsome; I’ll give Brad that. It’s as if Brad took a list of his own attributes and found someone who matched. Logan has dark hair, stubble, what appears to be a leanly muscled build under his team t-shirt and jeans, and his eyes are green.

In any other circumstance, I’m sure I’d find Logan quite appealing. But with Brad standing beside him, smiling at me in that way he does, there’s simply no comparison.

“Joey Delgado,” I say, trying to offer my best smile.

I have to at least try , right?

“Nice to meet you, Joey,” Logan replies, his eyes roaming over me. A smile quirks his lips. “Should we head in?”

Brad produces our tickets from his fanny pack with an excited grin. “Let’s do it.”

We make our way through ticketing and past the concessions to our seats on the main concourse. Unsurprisingly, I end up sitting in the middle, between Brad and Logan. The stadium hasn’t quite filled up yet, but it will soon enough.

“Brad tells me you work for your uncle’s construction company,” Logan says.

I give him a nod. “That’s right. We do residential work, mainly remodels and custom jobs, like cabinetry. You’re a tax preparer?”

His smile tips up on one end. “I am. Exciting stuff, huh?”

I chuckle. “Hey, I never said it wasn’t. Do you enjoy it?”

“I do, actually. In a lot of ways, it’s predictable, which I like. It doesn’t keep me at the office after five.”

I hum. “Not married to the job, then.”

“No,” he says simply. “It wouldn’t be my first priority.”

I understand what he’s saying, and admittedly, I like it a lot. I want my future partner to be present, to enjoy spending time with me and building a life together. I don’t want our jobs to come before our relationship.

A slap on my thigh has me turning my head. Brad has a huge grin on his face, and it hits me like a sucker punch. Because for a second, just a second, I’d forgotten he was there. He shoots me a thumbs-up, clearly happy Logan and I are getting along, before focusing on the field. The players are out now, warming up.

My throat feels tight as I force my gaze off the side of Brad’s head.

“Have you lived in Vegas long?” I ask Logan.

“My whole life.”

“Hey, me, too!” Brad says, reaching across me to offer my date a high five. “Vegans for life, man.”

A laugh falls from my mouth. “I don’t think we’re called vegans, bub.”

He pshts me. “You’re new. You don’t know.”

Logan, looking amused more than anything, slaps Brad’s proffered palm.

“Heck yeah,” Brad says, plunking back into his seat. I’m not sure if he realizes his hand is resting on my leg now, but he doesn’t move it.

“Where were you living before?” Logan asks me.

“New Hampshire.”

“Ah. Were you near the coast or more inland?”

“Right on the coast, actually. I miss the water quite a lot.”

Brad snorts beside me, and I’m more than certain he’s recalling the watersports incident. I give him a warning flick on the leg, which prompts him to pat my face like I’m a dog.

“That’s a pretty big change,” Logan notes. “From the coast to the desert.”

“But worth it,” Brad says, not even looking our way. “Joey’s a family man. He’s got a lot of love to give, you know? And of course he loves his mom, too, but he’s not the type of guy to turn his back on anyone. It’s admirable, and I think his family knows just how lucky they are to have him here.”

My heart thumps viciously.

“Besides,” Brad goes on, “he has a pool at his disposal now, so he can satisfy the urge to get his trunks wet anytime he wants. Logan, you like footlongs?”

“What?” I sputter.

“Hot dogs?” Brad says slowly, looking between the two of us. “Or cheesesteak? Popcorn? I’ll grab us some food. What do you want?”

Jesus Christ .

“Uh, anything is fine,” I mutter.

Logan lists something I don’t hear past the pounding of my heart, and Brad nods. He gives my leg a squeeze before getting up and sidestepping out of our row, the jewels spelling Joey glinting on the front of his fanny pack.

“He’s sweet,” Logan says.

The sweetest .

“Does he go on all your dates?”

I open my mouth to tell him of course not but realize I can’t. “He, uh… He’s made it his mission to be my wingman. He’s pretty committed.”

Logan hums, and I wonder what he truly thinks of Brad’s presence tonight. He doesn’t seem upset, but I suppose if he and Brad have been talking for the past week-plus, he probably knew what to expect, at least a little.

The two of us chat a bit about our families as the first pitch is thrown, the noise in the stadium increasing. Logan is easy to talk to, but despite him ticking all my theoretical boxes, I find I’m simply not invested in the date like I should be.

Of course, I know why that is. And when my oblivious, oh-so-committed wingman returns a minute later and my heart races at the mere sight of him, I wonder if there’s simply no getting over Brad.

“Look,” he says excitedly, passing a burger and fries off to Logan before handing what appears to be an entire pizza to me. Then he holds up his prize. “They had corn dogs.”

Oh no .

Brad looks ridiculously happy as he retakes his seat, the breaded hot dog on a stick in his hand. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I should look away. I should absolutely look away.

I don’t.

Brad’s tongue comes out to play first, licking a broad swipe up the entire length of the corn dog—base to tip—in an effort to collect the ketchup that’s dripping down the side. Before retreating, said tongue flicks across the top, a sight that has me stifling a groan. And then, if that wasn’t enough, he proceeds to stuff half the thing in his mouth like there’s a medal at stake for eating it in as few bites as humanly possible. Even Logan sounds impressed by the display.

That probably shouldn’t bother me as much as it does.

When a cheer goes up around the stadium, I whip my gaze away. I put all my focus into the game as I eat my pizza, knowing I can’t be taken by Brad’s tongue or his mouth or the happy noises he made as he practically choked on his footlong. I can’t be thinking about his enthusiasm or wondering how advanced his deep-throating skills are. I can’t .

I shouldn’t.

A curious hum has me turning Logan’s way. “You have a little something,” he says, making like he’s going to touch my cheek.

“I got it,” Brad cuts in loudly, tugging me around by the chin. He holds my face as he wipes a napkin across the corner of my mouth, his brow furrowed in careful concentration. Once done, he gives me a beaming smile, and fuck . It feels as if my heart might beat right out of my chest.

You’re perfect , I want to scream at him. You’re killing me. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.

Oblivious to my inner turmoil, Brad’s touch feathers away. Logan clears his throat, and I try to control my racing thoughts.

“So,” my date says, his burger and fries gone now. “Can I ask about the matching bags you guys are wearing?”

“Our fanny packs?” Brad says happily, crowding into my space again. Not that he went that far away to begin with. “They’re awesome, right? Look at this.”

Brad unzips my fanny pack, an action that has no right to turn me on, and pulls out chapstick, gum, and even a tiny bottle of hand sanitizer. I had no clue he put those things in there.

“Super functional,” he says, zipping it back up. “Plus it really accentuates Joey’s waist, don’t you think?”

Brad proceeds to stroke my stomach above the fanny pack almost absentmindedly, and my core clenches tight. Logan, rightfully so, doesn’t seem to know what to say. He watches Brad’s hand move over my shirt before lifting his gaze to me, an eyebrow subtly raised.

I don’t know what to say either.

After a small eternity, I shift Brad’s hand away, not sure how much more of his platonic fondling I can handle. He doesn’t seem perturbed. But he does grab a slice of pizza off the box in my lap, sending me a wink before taking a bite.

As the innings pass, things only get weirder. It starts when Logan gets up to use the restroom, taking our trash to toss out on the way. Once he’s gone, Brad starts fiddling with my fanny pack again, loosening and tightening the strap, making sure the buckle is clasped tight, shifting my shirt around until it’s lying flat. Seemingly satisfied, he leans back and nods.

“My name looks good on you,” he declares, casual as can be.

I practically choke.

Brad starts singing Beyonce’s “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)” under his breath, complete with hand motions, and I wonder if this is a fever dream.

“Hey, wanna switch seats?” he asks after a minute.

I eye him curiously, but he’s watching the game again. “Why?”

“This is a good spot. Great view. Figured you might want to enjoy it.”

“We have nearly the same exact view,” I point out. “I’m sitting right next to you.”

He shrugs, far bouncier than usual. His leg keeps moving. “Logan seems nice.”

“Which you already knew,” I say slowly.

“Well, sure,” he says. “But sometimes people can be different in person. He’s great. Just greeeat .”

“What’s with the tone? Is there something you don’t like about him?”

He waves a hand through the air. “ Psh . What? No. I picked him for you, didn’t I? I did good.”

He nods to himself, but he looks…off. Distressed, almost.

“Bub, if there’s something I should know—”

“Hey, you’re back!” he practically yells, moving his knees to the side so Logan can pass.

“I am,” Logan says, giving me a perplexed look. Honestly, I have no answers for Brad’s odd behavior. Including the fact that the moment Logan retakes his seat, Brad leans his shoulder firmly against my own. I look over at him, my pulse spiking, but he’s watching the players.

Does he even realize what he’s doing?

As the game comes to a close, Brad’s leg is back to bouncing. He seems antsier than I’ve ever seen him.

“Everything all right?” I ask, leaning his way and speaking quietly. People are getting out of their seats now, filtering out of the stadium.

“Yeah. Of course,” Brad says. “It was a good date, right? You had fun? With…Logan, I mean?”

“It was great,” I assure him, although I would have enjoyed it more if it was just me and Brad, a thought I refuse to linger on.

He shoots me a tiny smile.

“Ready to go?” Logan asks, peering our way.

I nod.

Brad is extra jittery as we head toward the exit, the three of us moving slowly through the crowd. He keeps glancing over at me, grinning a little too widely when I catch his gaze.

When we finally make it out of the stadium, Logan stops me with a touch on my arm. “Could I have a word? Alone?”

Brad jumps away from us. “Oh! Of course. I’ll just, uh, wait over here. You two talk. About stuff. Alone. Yep.”

Brad trots off, only glancing back once he’s a respectable distance away. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he looks upset. But he turns his face away so quickly I wonder if I only imagined it.

“Joey,” Logan says, recapturing my attention. “You need to tell him how you feel.”

My gut sinks like a stone.

“Don’t apologize,” he says before I have a chance to do exactly that. He huffs a small laugh, brushing his hair back. “He’s possessive of you. You realize that, right?”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” I tell him hoarsely. “He’s…”

“Straight?” Logan says, an eyebrow raised. “So he told me. But he’s into you. And, frankly, I’m not surprised. I had my suspicions. Which is why I can’t fault you for going on this date while you have feelings for someone else. I went on it knowing someone had feelings for you.”

My mouth opens and closes. “Why?” I finally manage, not knowing how to refute his claim that Brad has feelings for me.

He can’t. He doesn’t. Does he?

Logan shrugs a little. “I couldn’t not . After the way Brad talked about you… I had to know. And he was right. About everything. I would have liked getting to know you, Joey.”

“But not now?” I ask.

His smile is almost amused. “Tell you what. If things don’t work out between you two, then yeah, give me a call. But I doubt I’ll be hearing from you.”

I have no clue what to say. I don’t want to hope. I hate the way my heart is racing and how my mind is spinning, trying to figure out if Logan is right. I’m not sure I can trust my instincts when it comes to Brad because I never would have thought he was straight in the first place. His flirting doesn’t mean anything. Neither does his open affection or proprietary fanny packs.

He’s just…Brad.

And if I admit I have feelings and he doesn’t reciprocate them? We won’t stay friends. Brad wouldn’t want to hurt me like that, I know it. And I don’t want to lose him. I’m not ready.

Might not ever be.

“Joey,” Logan says quietly. “I really think you should tell him.”

I nod, but I’ve never been more conflicted in my life.

Crushing on a straight friend is one thing. Admitting you’re interested in them romantically? That you want… more ?

In what world does that possibly end well?