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“Hello?”
He recognized Ed’s voice. “Hey, Jack, yeah….” A gracious laugh rang down the line.
Jack hurriedly spoke. “Guess this time I was the one not paying attention, huh?”
“I’d say I’ve done it before, so it’s no problem, except I haven’t. I would’ve sworn this is something only meant to happen in movies.” An edgy laugh followed a brief pause. “Ah, but, you know, it really is no problem.”
Jack smiled at the nervousness in Ed’s voice. Maybe Tall Hot Guy wasn’t straight after all?
“We can just meet up and exchange phones.” With his free hand, Jack started to tug at the belt, ready to drive back into town, and then stopped. “Crap… I need to meet Brittany ten minutes ago. Can we get together around six?”
“No… I mean, yes, I want to meet up but, uh—thing is, I have dinner with the family tonight. How about around nine?”
Jack perked up at the idea of meeting later that night. Maybe they could get a drink or something. “That would work. I don’t go to sleep till much later. Just tell me when and where.”
“You sure? I mean, I can wait until tomorrow if it’s a problem. My mom said I could borrow hers until I get mine back.”
Don’t lose it, Jack. “Truth is, I kinda need mine. I don’t have anyone to bum a phone off at school.”
“One of the very few advantages of still living at home at twenty-three, I suppose. You might want to turn my phone off. My little sister, Becky, just got a new phone and she’s gone text crazy.”
Cute. “Sure, but that goes double for you. My friends are bound to be worse.”
“I noticed.” Another chuckle. “I turned yours off after the fifth text asking if you were going to be on time, where you were, and why aren’t you answering.”
Jack snorted. “That’s so her. Sorry.”
“No worries, it was entertaining. Meet you back at the Barnes and Noble parking lot?”
“Sure.” Jack smiled. “I have a navy blue Jeep Wrangler. I shouldn’t be hard to find.”
“Great. I have a red Ford pickup. Hey, I gotta go or I’m gonna be late. See ya later.”
The phone went dead before Jack’s “See ya” left his mouth.
Jack held back from kissing the dang phone as a coil of excitement burst inside of him. He’d be seeing Tall Hot Eddy again. “He’s still probably straight,” he murmured to himself to curb his enthusiasm. “Best to cool it.”
His self pep talk did nothing to drain the smile from his face.
Chapter Three
Thumbing through the playlist on his old iPod, Jack remembered the new Rise Against poster he’d seen at the bookstore. If Ed didn’t have his phone, he’d have downloaded the new album already.
If Ed didn’t have my phone I wouldn’t be seeing him again, either.
No big deal, Appeal to Reason worked. Setting it in the player, he hit Shuffle and adjusted the volume loud enough to amp him up. He opened his closet. Now, what to wear? What looked good on him?
Jeans and the right shirt in hand, he checked his clothes again to be sure he had the best option.
Too much thinking!
This wasn’t a date. He was just going to get his phone back.
“Collapse” pulsed through the room. One of the few songs he and Marcus agreed on. The music drowned out his off-key rendition, but he sang along anyway. Damn, he was in a good mood.
He dropped his towel in a heap just as the door slowly opened. He lunged for his pile of clothes. Crap, where were his boxers? Ah, there!
“Shit, bro. Some warning next time.” Marcus dropped his book bag on the bed and flopped next to it, nodding in time with the music.
Jack shook his head. “Whatever. You opened the door without knocking. So not my fault.”
Marcus angled the framed photo of their dads on his side table, and Jack glanced at it too. Murphy and Reynolds. Aged twenty. Their whole lives before them…. Jack’s chest ached, and he grabbed his pants.
“Where you off to on a Sunday night at eight thirty?” Marcus asked.
“I told you, I need to get my phone back. We’re meeting at the bookstore.”
“You showered for that?” Marcus stared at him, and Jack glanced toward the window. “And what are… whoa. Those are your favorite jeans, the ones you wear when you’re going out. What’s going on?”
Busted.
“Nothing, Marc, just going to get my phone back.”
“Right.” Pushing his bag aside, Marcus leaned back against the wall, loosely hugging his knees. “Those are your, and I quote, ‘my ass looks good in these jeans’ jeans. Showered, hell, you shaved, and you’re wearing your ass jeans and you think I’m buying that crap. C’mon, Jackson, spill.”
“Seriously, I’m going to get my phone back.” Slipping on the blue shirt, he found Marcus’s eyes glued to him. “Fine, the guy whose phone I picked up by accident is totally hot. Figure it can’t hurt to look good, right?”
