8. Chapter Eight #2
His dejected voice cuts through me like a knife.
Which makes me feel like even more of an asshole.
Which I totally am. He just broke up with his girlfriend.
I’m sure he’s feeling like crap, and I’m being insensitive as fuck because I’m feeling out of sorts about everything with Aaron and this date tonight.
“No, no, it’s fine, I’m not that busy. I’ll be an hour..” He purses his lips.
“I literally just pulled into the store to grab stuff for the week. You want me to pick anything up? Some Skittles or ice cream or—”
He looks up at me with weary eyes. “Skittles sound good.”
I give him a half smile. “Skittles it is, then.”
He smiles this time and I know it’s genuine. “I can order us some pizza for lunch?”
I nod. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”
He nods and a second later, the call ends.
I bang my head against the steering wheel, trying to shake off this weird feeling I’ve had ever since I got up this morning.
I didn’t sleep like shit, but I had some weird dreams for sure and that definitely affected my morning.
I must’ve hit snooze a couple times too many, because by the time I actually got up, I had barely had a half hour to get my ass ready and over to the restaurant to meet Aaron.
I take my job and my client’s time seriously.
Especially because a good bit of my clients tend to be very successful people who run on tight schedules.
Aaron did say he flew in yesterday, and that he’s a businessman—which he didn’t elaborate on this morning, so I think it’s safe to assume he’s probably one of those super-schedule individuals.
Especially judging by the fact he texted me fifteen minutes before our scheduled time.
Thankfully, luck was on my side this morning, but I’m not looking to press it this evening.
Which means, I need to get my stuff, head home, and be ready by at least four thirty at the latest, just in case Mr. Perfect shows up early.
When I finally get back to my apartment, it’s nearing one-forty five and I’m stressed.
I manage to drag all my groceries inside in one shot—I live on the third floor of this building, and I refuse to take the elevator after it nearly got stuck on me once—getting stuck in an elevator is my worst fear.
Whoever said hauling your groceries up three flights of steps wasn’t a workout, I challenge them to carry my fucking groceries up these damn stairs.
When I open the door, I find Noah curled up on my couch with my damn Peach Rings, reading my copy of Broken Vows, Secret Games Book One by Penny and Ariel Dawn.
I think Hell has literally frozen over.
“What the hell are you doing?” I squeak.
For starters, my brother doesn’t read, period, let alone read romance novels. I’ve suggested titles to him over the years, but he always pushes me off and tells me he’s not into that shit, and though he doesn’t judge my romance novel obsession, he doesn’t get it, either.
“Um… I’m reading.” He rolls his eyes at me with a smirk. “What the fuck does it look like?”
“Well, could you maybe stop, and you know, give me a hand here?” I bite, feeling strangely self-conscious. If he was interested in checking out some of my books, I would have gladly given him a recommendation for something I think would be more up his alley. Like maybe Lights Out by Navessa Allen.
He whines. “Buuut I just got to the good part!”
I roll my eyes, drop the bags to the ground, and head over to grab the book out of his hands.
“Hey! I was reading that!” he bitches.
I note he’s barely a few chapters in and raise an eyebrow when I read the page he’s on.
“This isn’t the good part,” I said, tossing the book on the couch. “They’re in the airport. He hasn’t even kissed him yet.”
“Spoilers, man, come on!” My brother huffs as he gets up and heads over to where I dropped my bags.
“Yeah, yeah, like you’d actually read the whole thing,” I bite back. He helps me unload, shooting me a scathing look.
“You’re in a mood,” he quips.
“I got stuck in traffic and it’s almost two and I need to be ready by like four and—”
“Why you all pressed over this date tonight?” he asks, pulling out half a watermelon and a container of strawberries.
“I’m not pressed, I’m just—”
“I mean, I get it’s last minute, but you’re not usually this uptight, so what gives?”
I methodically pull out my groceries while he works on his pile, letting out a sigh.
“My meeting this morning…” I settle the box of cereal on the island. “I met him.”
Noah turns, raising an eyebrow. “Oh. So it’s a him. ”
I nod.
“He hot?”
“Very.” I pull out a package of grapes and cucumbers next as Noah opens the fridge to put away the watermelon and containers of fruit.
“So that’s why you got your briefs in a twist.”
“No,” I say, but even I know it’s moot.
Noah smirks at me. “When’s the last time you had a hot date with a hot guy, Jake?”
I scowl at him. “It’s been… a while.”
Three years to be exact. Despite being listed as bisexual on the website, men aren’t exactly slipping into my calendar like some of the other guys on the roster. Like Bradley or Scout.
“You like him,” Noah says with a knowing smirk.
“I don’t even know him, Noah. I literally just met the guy this morning, and he’s picking me up in less than three hours.”
Noah doesn’t let up with his stupid gaze. Sometimes I hate being a twin.
“You are crushing. Hard.” He laughs. “He must be fine as hell if he’s got you all befuddled.”
I pull out the remaining groceries, mostly some drinks, including coconut water, flavored water, and almond milk and some coffee creamer.
“Befuddled? Really? What have you taken up reading the dictionary lately?”
“Ha. Ha,” he deadpans as he grabs my fruit from in front of me and shoves it into the fridge.
“Seriously, though, I’m sure it’ll all go well. I mean, you’re one of Foxy’s top guys, if anyone can pull off a perfect day with barely any time to pull it together, it’s you.”
I’m not sure if his words are supposed to be comforting, but they aren’t. In fact, they only make me feel like the pressure is on even more. I toss the bag of Skittles at him and it hits him in the chest, but his reflexes are pretty good, so he catches it before it drops.
“Thanks,” I say. Once I’ve finished putting things away, I head for the counter to check out the box of pizza.
But one look at the cheesy, greasy goodness and I wrinkle my nose.
It smells like bad decisions, and I’m not looking to fuck up this job tonight in any way whatsoever.
Especially with T-minus three hours until showtime.
I push the box shut, the blips and chimes of Mario Kart pulling my attention.
I look between my brother, on the couch with his Skittles in his lap, and my hallway that leads to the bathroom and the bedrooms. Technically, my apartment is a two-bedroom, but I use the second bedroom as my library since the living room and the kitchen are open concept.
At least in my library-slash-reading room, I can fill the walls with shelves, whereas in my living room, the space is definitely limited.
My apartment isn’t huge, but it costs a pretty penny, despite its size.
It’s right outside the city, but it’s so close to everything, it’s practically considered the city in every way.
It was the first big purchase I made after working at Foxy’s for a year.
Sometimes it still baffles me that I’m able to afford it, and sometimes I worry about what will happen in the future.
I know there are guys on Foxy’s roster who are older—in their thirties, forties, even fifties, but I also know this job isn’t a forever thing.
It’s a now thing, and I love it, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not my dream job.
I think about Aaron’s Prince Charming persona. I know we’d fully riffed the whole thing, but I can’t stop thinking about his suggestion that I’m an author.
I love the world of romance, and I love to read, but I’ve never really thought of writing a book before.
I push the thought aside as I check my phone, noting I’ve got about two and half hours before my date. I take one look at Noah on the couch, fixated on my television screen, and head over.
“One game,” I say as I pick up the other Switch controller. Noah gives me the biggest grin as I tap in.
“I’m going to smoke your ass, bro,” he says, and I roll my eyes.
“You will eat those words.”
One game turns into two, and two turns into I don’t know how many because I lose track. It’s only when my phone goes off at quarter to four that I realize I’ve lost track of time, and I nearly jump off the couch in a panic.
“Shit!” I curse as I drop the controller and make a beeline for my shower.
I shower in record time and manage to get dressed and ready in under twenty minutes. I take a look at myself in the mirror, take a deep breath, and head out to the living room.
“Daaaamn.” Noah whistles between a mouthful of pizza. “You look like a million bucks.”
I roll my eyes, unable to keep my laugh in because it almost feels like I’m going to the prom or something.
“You can hang out as long as you want,” I say, grabbing my wallet and my keys from the coffee table.
“Although, full disclosure, this event is supposed to go until ten, but—”
Noah waves me off. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Don’t worry, I won’t wait up for you,” he says with a wink. I shake my head.
“Good to know.”
Just as I slide my keys in my pocket, my phone goes off, and the minute I see the text, I nearly stop breathing.
Aaron: Here.
I suck in a breath and straighten my shoulders, doing my best to channel Prince Charming.
“Showtime,” I whisper to myself as I head for the door.