“I’m really not in the mood to play wingman at another gay club.”
The last time we’d gone, I’d gotten felt up by an overeager twink who didn’t bother finding out I wasn’t into men before trying to climb me like a tree. No, thanks.
“So we’ll go to a boring club for the straights, then. Come on, man. It’s not like you have other plans.”
Ouch. That hit home.
Iola had sent me the contact info for my date, but I’d yet to set anything up. I’d never been on a blind date, and I was worried it would be awkward.
But it couldn’t be any worse than a night dealing with Fox when he was in one of his manic moods. I’d end up getting dragged into a sex party or a fight—who knew which?—and I was not in the mood for it.
I seized on the only excuse I had.
“Actually, I have a date this weekend.”
“No, shit?” Fox sounded surprised. “Who with?”
“A local here,” I said vaguely. “It’s our first date, so I really don’t want to show up hungover. Sorry, man. Maybe another time.”
He groaned. “Fine. How about Corey? Think he’s game.”
“Nope,” I said. “He’s with Rachel every weekend. Besides, he needs to focus on getting his life together, not partying with you.”
“Fine.” He sighed. “But you better make time to come out for a beer next week, at least. I’m starting to feel unloved.”
I laughed. “We can’t have that.”
“No, we fucking can’t.”
“I’ll text you later this week, then.”
“All right, man. Talk to you later.”
I clicked Disconnect, feeling a little guilty for dodging Fox. I hadn’t set up the date yet, but after telling him I had, I didn’t want to be a liar.
I called up the contact info Iola had sent me and sent a quick text to my potential date.
Hi. The Matchmaking Mamas gave me your number. I guess we’re a match.
I stared at the message. Was that really the best greeting I could manage.Hi?And could I sound any more apathetic about us being a match?
It would serve me right if she didn’t even bother answering.
Corey leaned in through the doorway. “Hey, my clothes are in the washer. You can tell Mom?—”
“I wasn’t talking to Mom.”
“Dude, you faked me out. I feel so betrayed.”
I cracked a grin. My brother had some growing up to do, but he was also my best friend in the world. “How about I make it up to you by making dinner?”
“We can’t just order pizza?”
“You can’t live on take-out for the rest of your life. I agreed to move here to help you out for a while, but I won’t always be here to take care of you.”
“Fuck you, I’m not a child,” he grumbled. “I know how to cook.”
He just never wanted to do it. It was easier to call in delivery and spend money he should be saving to cover his share of the bills.
