“But …”
“But you also like me.” It isn’t a question. I don’t think it’s ever been a question. So, I nod. He lifts my hand and brings it to his mouth, giving me a tender kiss that takes my breath away. As he kisses me, his eyes never leave mine, not even when he pulls away. “Well, in case it ain’t clear, Johnny, I like you too.”
“Yeah?”
His hand grips mine even tighter. “You bet your ass, I do. I’m going to make this work. I promise.” He leans over the back of his bench seat and kisses my forehead like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“I’m so scared I’m going to get left behind. I don’t want to end up on my own while you two ride away into the sunset.”
“Never,” he swears. “Do you want me to call tonight off? We can just keep going on the way things are, if you’re not comfortable moving forward.”
“You’ll just start dating him anyway, then I’ll have to—”
“Jonathan,” he says, his voice firm. He’s only used my full name once, so the sound of it is foreign enough to snap me out of whateverthe hell headspace I’m heading into. “I would never do that to you. To either of you.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” He lets go of my hand and reaches up, rubbing my bald head. “Well, if it isn’t, it will be tonight. I just need you to give me a few hours. Can you do that, bro? Can you be patient just a little longer?”
I nod, because I’ll do anything Bubba asks me to, without question.
“I’ll try.”
I look out the window and spot Ezra standing on the porch. This is normally the part where he races to the pickup, crawls over me to reach Bubba, and siphons his attention away from me. He ain’t doing that now, though. He’s just standing there in a pair of skin-tight shorts and a magenta button-up shirt. Ezra’s even got a cute bowtie on and everything. When his eyes lock on mine through the window, he waves.
Why is he being nice to me? He’s never nice to me. And why am I waving back at him? When I realize what I’m doing, I yank my arm down, cheeks burning an awful shade of red, if my reflection in the rearview mirror is any indication, and Bubba’s just sitting there smiling at me like God looking down on his creation.
My heart flutters a little faster when I squint and see Ezra’s cheeks burning just as dark as mine. He has to be smiling at Bubba. There’s no way—and no reason—he’s blushing because of me. But is it bad that I kind of wish he was?
“Bubba?”
“Yeah, baby?”
I have to bite my lip to keep it from trembling. “Would you help me pick out something to wear? I want to look good tonight.” I clear my throat nervously and look away. “For both of you.”
“Yeah,” Bubba says. “You’ve got it. His hair sure looks pretty, don’t it?”
I have to look up at Ezra’s hair to realize what he means. I didn’t even notice it at first. Now, where a pile of brown bluff used to rest, is the most beautiful hot-pink head of hair I’ve ever seen. He’s fucking stunning, and he’s staring right at me like he’s waiting for my reaction. I open my truck door and step out, making my way over to him. Ezra is blushing like crazy, and it makes my knees go a little weak.
“Well? What do you think?”
Hesitantly, I run my fingers through his hair and scratch his scalp. “You look beautiful, bro.”
Bubba stands beside me, nodding. “He’s right. You look so sexy right now, Ezzy.”
He bites his bottom lip to hold back his smile. “‘Kay.”
Fuckin’ precious.
I didn’t sign up for any of this. Certainly not this small, cozy little coffee shop, stuffed to capacity with hipsters. The place assaults each of my senses. It’s not visually pretty, the tables are sticky with God knows what, and the air is thick with the scent of lavender, cocoa, and burnt coffee. There are holes in the walls, and empty picture frames have been placed over them like each hole was punched with purpose. Behind the coffee bar is the most godawful wallpaperI’ve ever seen; yellow and baby-puke green hearts are scattered across a disgusting brown backdrop.
Let’s be honest, the place is a goddamn tragedy, but this tragic space is the place Bubba chose to bring us. I may not respect it, but I respect him, and I know he would never intentionally subject me to a shithole if he didn’t have a good reason.
There’s a microphone on what I’m assuming is meant to be a stage, even though it’s simply four layers of wooden planks, which barely lift the microphone stand six inches off the ground.
When we got here, Bubba guided Johnny and me to a booth in the corner, then he wandered off to the bar, leaving us on our own.
Johnny was super quiet after they got home from work earlier, and I can’t say I blame him. If it was me in his position, I’d probably be nervous too. I mean, it’s not every day you go on a date with the man you’ve been catfishing for a month.
