I speed away before he makes it to the door of his apartment complex, as if leaving him sooner is going to wipe away the blush covering my cheeks.
My phone pings just as I turn the corner, and I see the five-star rating and astronomically high-dollar tip he’s left me. Since I’m all alone, I let myself smile, but if he was here to see me, I’d make sure to roll my eyes.
Four
MALAKI
I kickmy feet up onto the coffee table and rest my hands behind my head. The apartment is quiet without Kane here, and although I’ve spent a lot of time alone, even when I was a kid, it’s sort of nice having a roommate.
With Kane in full denial about his little obsession with our neighbor beneath us, he’s preoccupied. In other words…he’s hook, line, and sinker.Taken.Gone. He is no longer single nor the leader of the party clan. The majority of my teammates are either in a serious relationship or married. Good for them.
That’s not for me, though.
Not now, and maybe never.
To allow yourself to get thatclose to someone requires careful consideration. It has to be deliberate, and in my opinion, loving them has to be worth the fear of losing them.
I mean, I read that somewhere once, but it makes sense, especially after losing my mother and being left with essentially no one butme, myself, and I.
Most of the men I surround myself with are getting engaged, having babies, or stalking their best friend’s sister–that’sdirected toward Kane, of course–but that doesn’t mean I have to do that. I’m the guy who’s just happy to have a good time.
Iambored, though.
My phone rests face down on the couch beside me. I grab it to scroll through social media again. After a few swipes of my feed, mostly filled with hockey highlights and more of my friends posing with their girls, I get a message.
Kane
I need backup.
Say less.
Me
Backup how? Are you about to fight someone?
Kane has always been the troublesome type. That man has skeletons in his closet. It’s part of the reason I moved into his apartment with him. I have my own house, on the other side of town, but when there’s a friend in need, I’m your guy. Can’t cover the rent? I’ve got you. Need a ride from the bar? Get in, loser.
Kane
Maybe.
I’d bet my lucky hockey stick that this has something to do with Daisy.
Which just so happens to give me the best idea I’ve had all night.
I eagerly exit out of my messages and pull open another app. I grin and click onrequest a ride.
Do I have my own car? Yes.
Can I drive it to the club? Also yes.
But how would I see that pretty, brown-eyed angel of an Uber driver that I can’t stop thinking about if I did that?
I climb from the couch and head to the bathroom to get ready. It takes me less than three minutes, and by then, I’ve already canceled two trips due to them not being Reese.
I request again and again, even narrowing my search tofemale drivers only.
Ten minutes have passed, another text from Kane, and then it happens.
