“Come on.”
I drag him upstairs to Lacey’s and bolt her door, not that I think anyone will try to come in, but just in case.
“Do you want me to knock some sense into him?” He asks, probably in reference to the ratty sweatpants I’m wearing.
“He figured it out all on his own,” I assure him. “This was all I had while I went down to get this.” I show him the dress I plan on wearing.
“Wait, you’re back together? And who’s getting married?”
I did originally get the dress for a vow renewal, but I don’t think it necessarily screams wedding.
“The hockey team is having a fundraiser, and I want to surprise Noah at it.”
I explain how Noah showed up last night and bared his heart for me, so I’d like to return the favor.
“By bidding lots of money to save the hockey program?”
“I was actually going to go ask Dallas if he could sign a jersey for me.” The irony is not lost on me, but Noah stopped himself from asking, or even inviting me to this Fundraiser, because instead of putting myself out there and risking getting hurt, I found it easier to stick to the shadows. Which helps no one.
“Et tu, Brutes?” Clay clutches his chest like I’ve stabbed him.
“I would never,” I assure him. “I already have one of your baseball caps in my trunk.”
“Because you carry it everywhere with you or you left it there to die?”
I assume he’s mostly teasing, but I am also aware that like me, Clay has spent his life comparing himself to Dallas, and I never want to contribute to that.
“I brought it from home for Mrs. Jones, but ran into Noah’s mom and completely forgot to give it to her on Tuesday.”
“So you’re heading to Dallas’ hotel?”
“As soon as I change into this dress.”
“I’ll drive you,” he decides. I want to tell him not to worry, but I also want to hang out with him, and I’m pretty sure he would follow me anyway. So I spend the ride telling him as much about Noah as I would want my brother to know, then let him lead me up to the twenty-first floor, because he’s obviously talked to Dallas since he got in.
“Banana,” Dallas says, taking me in his arms as soon as he opens the door. “Are we jogging or eating ice cream?”
“No need, they’re back together,” Clay walks in ahead of me with a pat on Dallas’ shoulder.
“What? How?”
“Does anyone ever actually want to go jogging? And who would choose it over ice cream?”
“Ice cream feels like a breakup funk while jogging releases endorphins, gives you fresh air, and helps you figure out what you want,” Dallas explains, but I’d still take the ice cream.
“I know what I want,” I tell him. “Can you help me?”
“Anything,” Dallas assures me, before I tell him my plan. “Thank fuck,” is his response.
“Which is why I need to borrow a suit,” Clay says.
“I’ll ask Henderson. He’s got skinny legs too,” Dallas teases.
“You’re just jealous because I’m taller and don’t look like a fridge.”
“What’s happening?”
“We’re coming,” they tell me like it’s obvious.
