Prince Charming: Five O’Clock.
Prince Charming: I have a date at 7, so I need to leave by 6 to pick her up.
Her. He saidher.As in he’s taking out a woman tonight. I know he listed himself as bi on the website, so it makes sense, but… still. The idea of him kissing, touching, dancing with someone else—even a beautiful woman who probably would treat him like the prince he actually is, makes my stomach queasy.
Me: Fine. I shouldn’t need more than an hour of your time.
I roll my eyes at my formality. God, I sound hopeless.
Because I am hopeless.
Jacob sends me a thumbs up, and I head back into the restaurant. My dad gives me a suspicious gaze.
“Everything okay?”
I nod. “Yeah. Just called my boyfriend to check on him.”
It’s not a complete lie.
My dad nods as I reach for my drink, and soon enough the conversation changes to the beach and vacation plans. I stare at the appetizer before me, suddenly at a loss for appetite.
Chapter Fourteen
Jacob
All day, all I can think about is this meeting with Aaron tonight. I do my best to stay focused on my afternoon dates, but it’s harder than it should be.
When I kissed Caroline, all I could think about was how Aaron’s lips tasted better.
When I held Deanna’s hand and walked her to her door, all I could think about was how her hand in mine felt so small compared to his.
And when I collapsed on my couch, next to my brother, all I could think about was how perfect my body felt next to his this morning when I woke up.
“What’s your deal?” Noah asks as he settles into the cushions. “I know you had a rough night and all, but you are even mopier than usual.”
I frown at him. “I’m not mopey.”
Noah raises an eye brow. “You might be able to hide that you are the eighth dwarf from your dates, but not from me, man. You can’t fake that shit with a guy who shares your DNA.”
I glare at him, hating that he’s right.
My gaze drifts to his duffel bag, which is tucked beside the coffee table. I noticed it when I got in this morning, but I haven’t asked him about it yet. I probably should, if only to focus on problems other than my own, but I’m too tired to think. Besides, it’s nice having him here. It’s nice having another body in this place. Especially one I’m comfortable with.
Over the years, I thought of getting a roommate, but when I saw the list of requirements I came up with, I thought maybe I should refrain from sharing my space with just anyone.
Though I wouldn’t mind if he moved in, I know realistically, after a month or so, I’d want to kill him. I love my brother, but despite sharing the same genes, we couldn’t be more different. Even after a couple days already, my stuff is coated in cheese curl dust and the couch is a damn mess of blankets and snacks and games. I’m not one of those OCD people or anything, but I just like my things a certain way. I like to come home to an oasis, not a dumpster fire.
Part of me wants to press him about his break up. He hasn’t said much about it since he showed up, and instead seems to be focusing on me, which is classic Noah. I swear, you could put a neon sign in front of the guy and he’d find a way to ignore it. If my brother was a trope, he’d be the hot mess player who cannever commit. It’s always the same song and dance. He blames work, and I guess I can understand that to an extent, but it’s notjustthe job that prevents him from attachment. He took our parents’ divorce harder than I did, even though it wasn’t as bad as some of the other kids we knew with divorced parents. But Noah idolized our dad. At least, he did, before Dad got remarried and moved across the country with his new wife to start a new family.
Sometimes I think that’s why he pushes away every girl he meets outside of Foxy’s. He’s afraid if he goes all in, they’ll leave.
You’re not any better, Jake.
My vicious thoughts permeate as I try to push them away. I know I’m guarded, but I have my reasons. I might be young, but I know what I want when it comes to a relationship, and I’m not asking for much. Just a good man who can see past my job and the things I’ve done, and see me. Not the guy I pretend to be most of the time.
Someone who can accept all the different eras of me and embrace the ones I haven’t discovered yet.
Am I crazy for believing someone like that exists? Have these damn books rotted my brain for real?
