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No, Lindsay was adorable and sweet and intelligent and Mack deserved someone like that. Someone like her. And I was not going to be a terrible friend and stand in the way of that.
“So, um … this is–I’m just gonna say it.” I blew out a breath. “Do you want to go on a date with Lindsay?”
He laughed. “What?”
“Don’t laugh! Are they watching?” I swatted at his chest. Too late, I realized it was with the same hand holding my drink and a wave of the crimson liquid slapped against his chest. “Oh fuck!”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. It’s going to stain, come on.” I dragged him across the bar and into the bathroom. “Quick, off, off!”
“What the hell has gotten into you?” He asked, peeling off the shirt and I immediately noted my mistake. I was now alone, in a bathroom, with my half-naked best friend. My eyes tried to dart everywhere except his exposed chest but it was like trying not to look at a car accident, or the sun. My eyes were naturally drawn there, even knowing it would probably hurt.
“Nothing, I'm great.” I snatched the shirt from him and got to work on the stain to keep my eyes and hands busy.
“Uh-huh…” He leaned on the sink beside me, watching me in the mirror. “You asked iftheywere watching just before you threw your drink on me, were you talking about Lindsay and your date?”
“He’s not my date,” I growled, although the fact he wanted us to go on a double date with Lindsay and Mack was going to seriously weaken that argument.
“Chase.” My name was a chuckle. “What the fuck is going on?”
I slapped the now sodden—and probably ruined because I was not what anyone would call a housewife—shirt into the basin and turned to face him. “What is going on is that you, my friend, are too hot! If you could just tone down all of this”—I gestured at his face and exposed torso, which was frankly offensive and disturbingly lickable—“then Lindsay would be able to actually speak to you and I would not be passing notes like we’re in junior high.”
“Just going back to your earlier point—he is definitely your date. The guy has been touching your lower back like it’s his fucking job. And two, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Brady had been touching my back a lot. It was getting annoying. But that was not the point of this conversation.
“Lindsay wants us to go on a double date,” I said, abandoning Mack’s shirt altogether and taking another large sip of my drink.
“Us? Us who? Oh, wait, are you talking about me, you, Lindsay and Brady?”
I did not appreciate the way he put us together. We were not the ones on the date. “I am talking about you and Lindsay, and me”—I cleared my throat—“and Brady.”
“I’m sorry, what? I missed that last bit…” He leaned closer, his spicy, sunshiney scent invading my nose.
“Me… and Brady,” I mumbled into my glass.
“Nope, I think—I think I still missed it. Just a little louder.” The smile in his voice was utterly infuriating and did not make me want to kiss him one bit.
“Brady! You and Lindsay. Me and Brady. And this is all your fault—” I poked a finger into his broad, naked chest. “Because Lindsay is so blinded and tongue-tied by your hotness that she needs moral support on a date with you! So now, your stupid, handsome, perfect fucking face means I have to go bowling with Brady.”
10
MACK
At some pointbetween the excessive amount of pie and right now, I had unknowingly stepped into the twilight zone. How else could I explain the conversation I was having with Chase? There was a lot going on, most of which I was having trouble processing. I glanced down into my beer, wondering if maybe Greyson had spiked it with one of his extras and I was hallucinating. I took an experimental sniff… normal enough. A sip… tasted normal, too. So then—
“You think my face is perfect?” Perfect. Not good. Not great.Perfect. No one had ever said that before.
Chase stiffened, swallowed hard, and studiously avoided eye contact. “Objectively.”
What the hell did that mean? “You think my face is objectively perfect?”
“I don’t—well, I do, but that’s the thing about objectivity isn’t it? It’s not an opinion, it just is.”
I couldn’t stop my grin. “My facejust isperfect?”
“Correct,” she confirmed and, if I had to guess, I’d say she was nibbling the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. “And because of that I have to go bowling. So I hope you’re happy with yourself.”
