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Lake smiled wryly when they got to his car. He leaned his shoulder against the closed driver’s-side door. “Talking to you isn’t all that easy, you know?”

“I’ve heard,” Grady said. If it was that bad, why was Lake still talking to him? No one had forced him to be there. Grady could have picked up his shirt another time.

“I’m gonna watch the match tonight, NBL; Wildcats vs JackJumpers.”

“Those aren’t real names.” Or if they were, the PR department needed to be fired.

“Yeah,” Lake said, his smile widening. “They are. More precisely, the Perth Wildcats and the Tasmania JackJumpers, but that’s a mouthful. Neither is my team, of course, so I’ll let fate decide which one I’m going for—the winner, of course.”

“I’m afraid to ask what your team is.”

“The Sydney Kings, obviously. I’m not a traitor.”

Grady could sense a story behind that statement. At least their name was relatively normal. “Okay. Have fun?” He had no idea why Lake was even bringing it up. Maybe the guy just talked to fill up space. Grady had met people like that before and usually steered clear of them. Lake didn’t grate on his nerves the same way, but there were a whole host of other reasons he didn’t think it was a good idea to stay in his close vicinity. Namely, how much Grady was enjoying it, even just after one night.

“Match starts at nine. Bring the whiskey?” Lake asked.

Grady blinked. “You’re asking me to watch it with you?” Well, the conversation detour made more sense now.

“Yeah. Usually, I watch it with my buddies Zach and Felix; you met them yesterday.”

“I remember.”

Lake tapped his fingers on the roof of his car. “But they’re busy playing house. The thing with my brother, Avery, is new, and so they’re, you know, spending a lot of time together. Which is fine. Fine-tuning and all that.”

It didn’t sound fine, and Grady almost opened his mouth to ask about it. He caught himself at the last second.

“So?” Lake asked hopefully.

Those fuckingpuppy dogeyes.

Grady should say no. He really should. Starting a friendship with this man, especially considering that Grady was still thinking about what he looked like half naked, was one of the worst ideas he’d ever considered. If nottheworst. He was just coming off one of the worst breakups he’d ever experienced, which was saying something, considering that he’d been left at the altar at twenty-one. To begin a friendship with someone he wouldn’t kick out of bed was just asking for trouble. Though Lake was straight, so there was no risk of feelings getting involved, was there? “Just the whiskey?” he asked, squinting.

“I’ll supply the food,” Lake assured him. “Real food, even.”

“Real food?” Grady wasn’t sure that their definition of “real food” matched. Though maybe only his hangover food choices were atrocious. Judging him based on one day wasn’t fair—he could give it a few days, andthenhe wouldstart judging.

“Sausages in bread?” Lake asked, tongue in cheek. “I’ll even throw in some cooked onion, cheese, and mustard.”

Fuck it. It wasn’t like Grady had anything else planned for the evening. Scrounge up leftovers, watch an episode ofIron Chefon Netflix. All exciting things. “Sure.”

“Cool!” Lake said, his eyes lighting up. He did that a lot. Grady should tell him to get that looked at. “We should exchange numbers! And I should give you my address.”

“That would help, yeah.” Grady checked the time on his phone as he got it from his pocket. “I have to finish up what I’m doing, which will be about half an hour. Then I have to go home—”

“Why?”

“To get the whiskey?” Grady said slowly. “And I’ll grab your shirt and jewellery while I’m there.” He’d even washed, ironed, and hung the shirt up too.

“Oh. Yes. Okay, good. Yes, carry on.”

Grady still couldn’t tell if Lake was really fucking annoying or endearing. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. “Your number?”

He tapped it in as Lake rattled it off, and his address, and saved it underLMin case someone got hold of his phone that shouldn’t. Namely, Gideon or Sebastian because now that Sebastian, the asshole lawyer that Grady wanted to drown, was dating Quinn, he was showing up way too often for Grady’s sanity. He would not put it past the dick to fuck with his phone if he saw it. Better to be safe than sorry.

Grady sent Lake a text message. The noise that came from Lake’s pocket was… unexpected. “What the fuck was that?”

“You don’t recognise Squirtle?”