Once I’m back home, it’s already five. I have a little under two hours to get ready, so I rip the tags off of my new shirt and throw it into the washing machine with the rest of my dirty laundry. I let the load run on a quick cycle while I take a shower and switch it to the dryer after I’m done. In the bedroom, I put socks and underwear on, and spend way too much time rummaging around in the closet for my good jeans before remembering that I washed those, too. Out of instinct, I reach for my wet towel and am about to wrap it around my waist before I pause.
I’m alone. There’s no need for me to cover up. Nobody can see in through the windows, and Ian said he’s going straight to the bowling alley from practice. Besides, even if he was here, he wouldn’t care.
And that’s how I end up sitting around in nothing but my underwear. It’s a little weird, given that I’ve never beenonlyin boxers, except for a few seconds at a time while getting dressed or undressed, but it’s…freeing? In a mundane kind of way. I could get used to it.
While I wait for my clothes to finish drying, I bang out a couple of quizzes for my Motor Learning course, and my nerves get the better of me when I peek at the clock to find that I only have an hour to get ready.
I don’t need to do much beyond getting dressed, but I don’t want to be late. Ian deserves better.
Since I’m short on time, I remove everything except for my shirt and jeans from the dryer and turn up the temperature. Thankfully, those don’t need much longer, so I slip into them with time to spare, and I grab my new hair product to finish up.
I stand in front of the bathroom mirror and take stock of what I’m working with. Ian asked me out. He likes how I look, and if I’m being honest, I’m starting to see it. He’s right about my eyes—wearing blue makes them stand out, and standing out isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I give myself a smile as I keep trying to replicate the hairstyle Ian gave me a week ago, right before I came out to him and changed the trajectory of our friendship. It’s a style that would get me admonished back home for being unkempt and corrupt, but here, it’s…attractive.
Okay. If there’s wind, that’ll help me mess it up even more, which is now a good thing. I put on an extra swipe of deodorant for good measure and head out, my heart pounding with excitement as I make my way to my first first date.
For a second, I entertain the fleeting, wandering fantasy that tonight will be thelastfirst date I’ll ever have to go on. What I feel for Ian is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before, and I can’t imagine directing these swirling, chest-tightening emotions toward anyone else.
The mere thought makes my stomach twist, and I take a breath to redirect. Now isn’t the time to get caught up in speculation—tonight is about having fun and hopefully starting something more.
From what I read online, I need to take things one step at a time with dating, so that’s what I’ll do.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
IAN
What do you know, the random iron in the baseball locker room is getting its first use tonight, courtesy of me.
Practice is over, and I’m freshly showered, moisturized, and cologned-up. I’m standing in a towel, making meticulous passes over my pants, and when I turn around to grab my shirt, I’m greeted by two pairs of staring eyes: Nick’s and my teammate Jeremy’s.
“Scotty’s got a date tonight,” Jeremy says, his arms crossed. He doesn’t even bother turning that into a question.
“And what if I do? Jealous it’s not with you?” I joke.
“Aww, fuck you.” He flips his mop of messy, light blond hair out of his face, which gives me a better view of his cocky grin. “Any other day, I’d toss my water bottle at your head, but I’ll hold back today out of respect for your hot date.”
“Much appreciated,” I reply, humored sarcasm lining my tone. I finish ironing my polo, and I hang it up in my locker to let the steam evaporate.
“Who’s your date?” Nick asks. “Guy or girl?”
“Guy,” I reply. “Not spilling any more for now. Don’t wanna jinx it.”
Nick nods. “Nice. Hope it goes well.”
I smile into my locker before turning around, a small coil of nerves materializing in my stomach. “Thanks. I want it to go well. I really, really do.”
From the way Nick’s mouth is tight from suppressing laughter, and how Jeremy is grinning into his fist, I must have let out a wistful sigh or something.
“Uh-oh, someone has acrush,” Nick sings.
“And what about it? For what it’s worth, the guy I’m going out with tonight is super excited, too.”
“Good shit.” Nick gives me an excited fist bump. “Way to go, man.”
That’s that, so I slip into my clothes, shut my locker, and head out into the cold. Callum and I are going bowling, and the lanes aren’t far from the ballpark. It’s pretty stereotypical as first dates go, but it’s still a safe, tame option. Besides, we’ll be in public, so we’ll be forced to keep things wholesome. Not that I mind being sweet with him, not at all—it’s just that up until now, Callum and I have chosen to be calmafterletting off steam.
And he has alotof fucking steam to let off. I don't know if he's making up for lost time or if he's naturally insatiable, but I'm not gonna complain about him giving me his typical cute pleading expression, like, all the time.
When I asked him out a week ago, I mostly wanted to pump the brakes in case he got nervous about hooking up so quickly. Now that I’m here at the bowling alley, I know it’s also for me. I like Callum. I want to be with him. Putting us back on the standard path of going out is the safest way to get there. I just need to keep myself calm, avoid jumping the gun, and stop myself from scaring him off.
