“Dude, seriously?” Izzy bitches when I slide back into my seat and tell my friends that I’ve volunteered their services to help Justin and Owen. “It’s like five thousand degrees out right now. I don’t want to be lugging some stranger’s furniture and boxes around. Especially not for free.”
I glare at him and push my plate, containing my half-eaten burger, towards Marshall, who leaps upon it happily. “Iz, c’mon, man. Look at him” —I point towards Justin who, while he tried protesting, seemed infinitely relieved to hear that he wasn’t going to be unloading a moving truck on his own— “and tell me he doesn’t look like he needs it. He’s just traveled cross-country with a five-year-old on his own. He’sthis closeto a breakdown.”
Iz sighs and folds his huge arms over his chest, arching a bushy, black eyebrow at me. “I get it: we’ve beenvoluntoldto do this because you think he’s hot.”
“And,” Noah steals a fry from my abandoned plate, waggling it in the air between us, “you have a savior complex.”
“I do not.”
I don’t.
I have a Daddy complex.
Well, Daddyinstincts. And when I see some cute, helpless guy desperately in need of someone to take over and help them with their adult stresses, I just can’t help myself.
“You do,” Izzy insists with finality. “Plus, we all know you’re a sucker for little kids.”
That accusation I can’t actually deny. I shrug. “I can’t help it if they all remind me of my nieces and nephews.”
He huffs. “You don’t have to spoil every single kid you see just because they’re like your horde of niblings.”
“Don’t have to, no,” I agree genially, “but I want to. It’s fun making kids smile.” I cast a glance over my shoulder and catch Justin’s gaze. His cheeks turn a little pink before he is drawn back into conversation with Owen.
I wonder what their story is….
“It’s notjustthe kid you want to make smile,” Izzy is like a dog with a bone. “And, I hate to break it to you, bud, but the likelihood of him being into guys is slim.”
“Why?” I counter, rising to the bait without thinking. “Because he’s got a kid? Bisexuality is a thing. So is experimentation, and pansexuality, and—”
“Okay,Google,” Izzy rolls his eyes, cutting me off. He wipes his mouth on his paper napkin and balls it up, tossing it onto his empty plate. “I’m just sayin’, don’t go gettin’ your hopes up just ’cause you think he’s cute.”
“I just want to help the guy, is all. What were we going to do this afternoon anyway? Sit in our dorm room and drink?”
Noah scoffs. “Pffft.You don’t drink,” he tells me, sounding affronted by the very idea. “Mister ‘my body is my temple’.”
“Idodrink. Just in moderation. I train too hard to waste the work on empty calories and a hangover.”
“Sounds stupid to me,”Marshall declares, finishing the last bites of my burger. “Izzy trains, too, and he doesn’t mind the calories.”
“Izzy issupposedto be built like a brick wall. I need to stay lean and agile.”
“You calling me fat, Gabe?” Izzy asks, deadpan.
“It’s not like you to come fishing for compliments, Iz,” I tease back, enjoying the growl it earns me.
Before he can respond, I feel a tug on my sleeve and a cute little voice says, “’Scuse me, Mister Gabe?”
I turn my head to find Owen at my side, his chubby cheeks smeared with tomato sauce and half a piece of pizza held in his free hand. I grin. “Yes, Mister Owen? Is the pizza good?”
He giggles a little and nods. “Yup,” he pops the ‘p’. “But, um, Daddy said to tell you that we’re gonna take our food to go ’cause you’re all finished with your foods. But he says I can eat mine while we walk back ’cause it’s pot…um…porable.”
“Portable?” I ask as I look over towards Justin, wanting to tell him to sit down and eat his meal before he falls down, but I hold back the urge.
Owen nods. “Yeah. That.” He takes another bite of his meal as if to prove his point. Then, with his mouth full, asks, “Can we get my trucks now?”
He’s such a cute kid.
Nodding, I gesture to the guys. “Sure thing, bud. We’re looking forward to helping you.” I give my friends a pointed glare. “Right, guys?”
