Chapter 16
Duffy
This was getting ridiculous.
“More flowers? This guy,” my dad said, grinning as he closed the front door. “He’s in deep.”
“Oh, he is not,” I said, taking the stunning arrangement from his hands. “And I’m not a flower person anyway, so it’s a waste.”
In my opinion, flowers were a silly waste of money. I could buy a new shirt or multiple books for the price of flowers that were dead already and only getting more dead.
That being said, the flowers that Connor kept sending—one huge bouquet yesterday, this human-sized arrangement to start off my morning—were stunning.
They weren’t the typical carnation-and-roses combo that people I knew picked up at the grocery store.
No, these were big arrangements of lilies and flowers of multiple colors that I didn’t even have names for, sent in big, gorgeous vases that made the entire house smell heavenly.
If this was Connor pretending to be my boyfriend, I couldn’t imagine what he was like for real.
It actually consumed me, the notion of what that might look like.
So much so that last night, I pulled up the idiotic article Ellie had sent me.
“How to Avoid the Friend Zone.”
It was absurd, a silly piece of clickbait that I couldn’t believe was posted on an actual psychological website.
I mean, one of the bullet points was actually “Be Attractive.”
Wow, this is deeply scientific.
Their logic was, if you didn’t make an effort on your appearance, the other person might fail to see you as a romantic option because you only presented yourself as a friend.
Which sucked, because in my opinion, the perfect relationship meant you could forget all about things like makeup and blowouts.
But I supposed when I looked in the rearview mirror of my dating life, it was all bare face and hoodies.
Holy shit, had it actually been my fault? No. I wasn’t about to let some old-school magazine gaslight me into thinking it was.
Another bullet point was “Make Them Work for It.”
Being too nice, according to the story, was a surefire way to land in the friend zone. I found it asinine that the advice given was to be “coy” and “elusive”—I mean, weren’t we more progressive than that? Wasn’t communication sexier than playing some game?
But at the same time, I had a zero-win percentage, so what the hell did I know?
“Your mom would have loved these,” my dad said, bringing me back to the flowers.
“Yeah, she would’ve,” I agreed, wistfulness creeping in my stomach. My mom had been a sucker for even the basic carnations from the grocery store.
It would have been enough, Connor sending flowers. My dad was eating it up. But then…then. Just when I was about to leave for work, he sent another message.
Connor: I know it’s last minute, but do you and your dad want to watch the game from a suite tonight? That seems like a perfect fake boyfriend thing to do, right?
What?! The Coyotes had a home game this evening, a Thursday-night game, and even though we had season tickets, I’d talked my dad into staying home because we didn’t want to deal with all that traffic on a weeknight.
But watching it from a freaking suite?
That was like the old guy’s dream.
Me: Are you serious right now?
Connor: Yes
Me: My dad will lose his everloving shit. That seems like too big an offer from a fake boyfriend, though. You don’t have to do that.
Connor: My sister was supposed to come but now she can’t, so it’s already reserved. You’ll be doing me a favor—someone should use it. Your brothers can come, too.
“Oh my God,” I said out loud, because this was just too much.
As a Coyotes diehard, the idea of watching from a player’s suite was absolutely surreal.
Add to that the fact that my…whatever he was…was the one inviting me, and this was monumentally epic.
“What’s wrong?” my dad said, running out of the bathroom. He looked at me in alarm like I’d just screamed bloody murder. “What happened?”
“One sec,” I said to my dad, then sent another text.
Me: I’m about to tell my dad, so this is your last chance to rescind the offer before he goes full-on bonkers.
Connor: TELL HIM. And remind him your boyfriend is dope as hell.
“What is it, Duff?” my dad snapped. “I gotta get to work, for God’s sake.”
“Connor wants to know if we want to watch the game tonight from a suite,” I said casually, as if it was no big deal.
My dad’s eyes widened and he literally stopped in his tracks.
The man froze.
“Are you messing with me, kid?” he said, his eyes very nearly bugging out of his head. “Don’t you dare be messing with me, you little shit.”
“I’m not!” I laughed, giggling because his face immediately split into a huge grin. “He said the boys can come, too.”
“What about Johnny and Machado?” he asked, referring to his buddies. “Any shot they can pile up there, too?”
I sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to let it go until I asked.
I texted: Any chance of a couple more seats up there? If not NBD, but my dad wants to ask three of his buddies.
That was a lie; he had two buddies, but I wanted to ask Ellie.
It was more fun to blame it on my dad, though.
Connor: Yeah, no problem. So your dad, your brothers, and three more?
Me: Yes
Connor: Text me all of their names and they’ll be on the list.
I couldn’t believe he was that generous.
My dad and I left for work with our phones to our ears as we collectively freaked out about our sudden Thursday-night plans. He was on the phone with Machado—“Fucking A, right? We’re gonna be up in Cunningham’s suite”—and I was begging Ellie to go with me.
“I know you don’t like football, but you have to come with me tonight,” I said as I got in my car and started it up. “You might end up on TV.”
She was all-in, and she made me blow off lunch to run into Macy’s and speed-shop for something to wear. She found an amazing ensemble for herself in a split second—a red sweater that looked amazing with leather shorts and boots—but I struggled a little.
Because everything she thought looked good seemed way too…showy.
I just wanted to wear a hoodie and jeans. It was a football game, for God’s sake.
“Dammit, Duff,” she said after I rejected her suggestion of stilettos with jeans and a halter top.
“Did you not read the friend zone article? You have to look like someone he wants to date. He has to see you and feel a drive to win your hand. If you roll up in jeans and a jersey, you symbolize comfort and friendliness and stability. But if you look hot, like a challenge, he’ll be more intrigued and think you’re interested in him, too. ”
I groaned because she was making sense, even though I hated every word she’d said.
“That’s dumb, even though you might not be wrong, but I cannot wear heels that high with a shirt that tiny.
Surely we can compromise, right? Find something pseudo-hot that doesn’t make me want to hide under a blanket… ?”
“Yes, let’s find pseudo-hot,” she said, nodding and grabbing my arm. “By the way, your stupid brothers aren’t going to be there tonight, are they?”
Ellie had always had a love-hate relationship with them, the kind of friendship where they viciously roasted each other but didn’t really mean it.
“Like they’d miss it, come on,” I said.
“If Matty says a word about my outfit I’m throat-punching him.”
She argued with Matty more than the rest of them, mostly because he’d always seemed to relish getting under her skin. Even when we were in grade school he used to do everything in his power to irritate her.
“Just don’t do it on-camera,” I said as she handed me a pair of black leather pants. “Football fans are very sensitive about assault.”