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Wes chuckled. “Sounds legit, although I don’t know, man, a MILF should never be off-limits.”
Beckett whacked the back of his head. “A DILF, you mean. He’s gay.”
“Right. Well, that sounds less fun to me, but hey, you do you, man.”
“I won’t be doing anything,” I said. “Work keeps me plenty busy.”
“That’s depressing,” Beckett said.
“Hey, I love my work—”
“Me too, but it doesn’t get me blowjobs and cuddles.”
Augustus grinned. “Good to know you’ve got your priorities straight.”
“Aw, I thought I gave you enough cuddles, bro,” Wes said, grabbing Beckett in a bear hug.
“You two are so weird,” I muttered.
But Joe’s eyes were gleaming as he looked at me. “Beckett isn’t wrong, you know. There’s more to life than work.”
I rolled my eyes. “You sound like Nana.”
My grandmother had urged me to date last year, but she’d hoped that Joe might eventually become more than a friend. Once he’d started dating Augustus over Christmas, she’d decided she would just find me a man. I’d been dodging her setup attempts, but it was getting tougher and tougher to evade a woman with the kind of determination my nana had.
“Maybe Nana’s right,” Augustus teased. “You were the one who persuaded me to give Joe a chance. Maybe you need to get out there too. Let Nana find you some men.”
I groaned. “You’re making me sound like a contestant onThe Bachelor.”
“The Gay Bachelor,” Beckett said. “Sounds like a Top Ten Netflix hit.”
One of the shows where the contestants find instalove then break up a month after broadcasting? That sounded about right.
My friends could have all the romance they wanted. I’d stick with shaping young minds. My job was more than enough fulfillment for me.
* * *
HUNTER
“So when areyou going to start dating again?”
My mother cornered me in the laundry room while I was holding my underwear and therefore vulnerable to attack. Laughter spilled out from the dining room, where her friends had congregated to play canasta and get hopped up on sugar and gossip, blocking my only route of escape.
I tossed my briefs into the washer, trying not to blush like a twelve-year-old. Mom had been doing my laundry only a couple of months ago. Thankfully, I’d broken her of that habit—but only by moving into my own place. A fact my son had not yet forgiven me for. He didn’t like much about Granville, but he’d loved staying with grandparents eager to spoil him.
Still, after five months, even they were ready for their houseguests to leave.
“Mom, please. Can we not do this today?”
She carried on as if she hadn’t heard me. “Tessa Weaver got divorced last year too, and she’s a lovely woman. You went to school together, remember?”
I nodded. “Mm-hmm.”
“She was the valedictorian when you graduated. Such a smart young woman.”
“I remember.”
“And Marsha at the Happy Bean—”
