Page 1 of The Bro Date (Best Bros Forever #2)

CHAPTER ONE

SHANE

T he acrid smell of burger grease and deep-fried everything clings to my nostrils as I hastily clock out and untie my dirty apron, hanging it on a hook next to the employee lockers.

Raúl has them professionally cleaned weekly, so at least I don’t have to worry about getting the grease stains out at home.

But that’s about all I can say regarding my boss’ character.

My locker is on the bottom row, and I’m certain Raúl did it on purpose, making my six-foot-four frame fold in half and squat down uncomfortably before and after every shift.

Prick.

It takes two tries for me to get the combination right, my oversized fingers slipping on the tiny dial while my knees dig into the cold, hard linoleum. I’ve been working as much as I can over spring break, and I’m exhausted, to say the least, but financial aid doesn’t cover everything.

My best friend, Toby, was gone the entire time, staying with his newly retired grandparents in Key West to avoid going home to his overbearing parents.

I don’t blame him for wanting to avoid that shit, but the island they live on is pretty remote, so the cell service is spotty at best. We hardly kept in touch beyond a few emails.

But Toby’s finally back in town today. He sent me a text around lunchtime to let me know he landed safely, and he’ll see me at home.

I’ve been looking forward to it all shift, instead of looking forward to another shitty day ending and the glorious reprieve of sleep.

I rifle through the ratty backpack I’ve had since high school, searching for my old-ass iPhone to check for new messages from Toby.

I hate that I can’t keep it in my pocket while I’m cooking, but it’s Raúl’s kitchen and Raúl’s rules , as I’m reminded daily when he slinks around the place being a dick to everyone.

“Shane!” a loud and somewhat aggressive voice hollers from the kitchen.

Speak of the devil.

With a deep breath and loud exhale, I slowly stand up and turn around to face the asshole that I constantly have to remind myself is the one signing my paychecks.

His dark, bushy brows are drawn together, lips pursed like he’s completely annoyed at me, even though I’m not on the clock anymore. “I asked you to reorganize the pantry two shifts ago. It’s still a fucking mess. Why, Shane?”

I grind my teeth, hating when he curses at me like that.

Tonight was packed. The orders were steadily coming in, and it was hard enough to keep the kitchen clean and the food timely with just one other person on shift. But Raúl knows this, so there’s no point in attempting to defend myself. “Didn’t have time,” I reply blandly instead.

Raúl glances at the backpack dangling by my side. “Lazy kids,” he mutters under his breath.

I don’t correct him that I’m twenty-one and in college. I’ll always be a kid in his condescending eyes.

“See to it that you make time next shift, or we’re going to have a more serious talk,” he threatens with his signature snarl.

“Copy,” I grunt, ready to get the hell out of here. It’s Saturday night, and Toby’s finally home.

Seemingly satisfied with my response, Raúl nods and hustles back to his office, leaving me in peace.

I grab my jean jacket and rush outside to my beloved old pickup truck before I get ambushed again. A small smile tugs at my lips as I turn the key a few times until she starts, pulling out of the parking lot in a hurry. I’m so ready to relax with a cold beer and hang out with my best friend.

It doesn’t take long to get home. The Salty Sandbar Café is located just east of campus, right on the Intracoastal Waterway. There’s never too much traffic in Crescent Bay, even with the tourist season picking up.

Toby’s Audi and Spencer’s Jeep are parked in the driveway, so I park on the curb and hop out. It’s first come, first served around here when we have four vehicles and no garage.

A refreshing gust of wind whips sweaty, tangled strands around my face as I hustle to the front door. When I step inside, I expect to find Toby and the rest of our roommates sprawled out on the couches, watching a movie or battling it out on the PS5, not a dark, empty living room.

Where the fuck is everyone?

Normally, I would be relieved by the peace and quiet, but I haven’t seen Toby in over a week, and I miss him more than I’m comfortable admitting.

It’s been us against the world since fifth grade.

I flip a light on and head to the kitchen for a glass of water and to check the dry erase board for messages, since no one bothered to text me. Front and center on the refrigerator door, scrawled in Jake’s chicken scratch, is the answer to my question.

Went to the Sigma Chi party. Meet us there.

It’s not like Toby to go to frat parties, especially without me, so I jog upstairs and lightly knock on his door in case he’s sleeping.

When there’s no answer, I peek inside, disappointed to find an empty bed that’s still made up exactly the way it was a week ago.

I gently shut the door, rest my forehead against the cool wood, and close my eyes for a moment.

I’m fucking tired, but I guess I’m going to a party tonight.

With a resigned sigh, I drag my feet to the shared bathroom down the hall. I desperately need a shower. Can’t show up smelling like deep-fried grease.

Loud, thumping bass fills my ears as I pull up to the frat party.

Big Greek letters I can’t read are spotlighted on the front of the baby-blue house with white trim.

The front door is ajar, with people overflowing into the yard.

I have no idea how campus security hasn’t busted this yet, but I don’t really care either. I just want to find Toby.

When I push through the crowd of drunk college kids on the front porch, I peer around the messy frat house, scanning the space for one of my roommates.

“Shane! Hey, bro! Want a drink?” some guy with a man bun shouts way too loudly before dapping me up.

I’m shit at remembering names.

“Nah. You seen Toby?” I ask.

“Oh, uh. Not recently. I heard he’s back, though.”

I grunt, not wanting to make small talk.

Before I can slip away, someone jumps on my back, wrapping their arms tightly around my neck and squeezing.

Fucking Jake.

I take two giant steps toward the sofa and in one lightning-fast move, I pry his arms loose, bend forward, and flip the asshat over my head. Jake lands on his back, laughing loudly like he just went on the tallest ride at the county fair.

Jake Tucker is that one high-energy, obnoxious, d-bag of a friend that you just can’t seem to ever get rid of. And one of my roommates.

“Where’s Toby?” I ask, not bothering to say hello to the drunk idiot who just tried to choke me out.

Jake sits up, brushing his dirty blond hair out of his eyes. “Just saw him go upstairs. He was trashed , dude. Did you know he’s absolute shit at beer pong?” Jake chuckles as if he knows something I don’t. His blue eyes sparkle with mischief like he’s baiting me somehow.

I clench my jaw so hard, I swear I hear a crack. Without another word, I turn around and head for the stairs, taking them two at a time while I dodge the drunk couples making out.

“ Uh ohhh. Someone’s in trouuuble ,” Jake singsongs behind me, but I just ignore his usual shit.

I check the first bedroom I find, and my gaze immediately zeroes in on Toby talking to a group of random guys I’ve never seen before. Something sharp pricks my heart, but I ignore it, rubbing my chest and watching my best friend laugh and smile at them when I haven’t seen him in over a week.

Some guy with neatly styled blond hair reaches out and tugs on one of Toby’s curls, causing a blush to spread over his cheeks and an awkward giggle to escape his lips.

A rogue wave of possessiveness washes over me.

My nostrils flare like a bull seeing red, and I have to clench my hands to stop from charging.

I glance down at the dull pain, releasing my fists and finding crescent-shaped indents in my palms.

Before I have a chance to make my way over there and do something I might regret, Toby turns around and finally sees me standing in the doorway. A huge, dimpled smile spreads from ear to ear like he hasn’t completely blown me off tonight.

“You made it!” he shouts, ignoring Blondie and tripping over the corner of the rug on his way over to me. I reach out on instinct, gently grasping his slim biceps and steadying him. His skin is soft under my fingertips with a sun-kissed glow from his week in Florida.

I swallow hard, unsure why I’m even noticing.

When Toby peers up at me through a mop of golden-brown curls, I’m met with a pair of glassy, half-lidded eyes I barely recognize. “ Hello, Schwayne, ” he slurs, laughing loudly and gaining even more attention than he already had.

“You wasted?” I grunt.

“Just a little tipsy,” he says with a hiccup.

I raise an eyebrow in question, and Toby rolls his lips inward like he’s fighting a laugh.

“Toby . . .” I say sternly, glancing at the audience of fuckboys behind him and narrowing my eyes at them.

“So grumpy,” Toby murmurs, reaching up to smooth the crease between my brows.

I guess I am because I’m tired, hungry, and I really don’t want to be here, but I came for Toby, and after seeing the state he’s in, I’m not leaving without him.

“Tobes! We’re about to start another round of beer pong!” the blond douchebag hollers across the room, exponentially adding to the irritation brewing inside me when he uses Toby’s nickname like they’re already best friends.

He’s my best friend.

Toby attempts to slip his arm out of my grasp, as if he’s actually about to leave me here and drink more with those assholes. I don’t let go. I’ve witnessed too many people make poor decisions because of alcohol, and I won’t let Toby be one of them.

I usher him out of the bedroom and down the hallway, away from prying eyes.

“ Hey! ” he yells indignantly.

I pin him against the wall with my larger frame, leaning forward and breathing my words into his ear. “What’s going on with you, Tobes?”

“Nothin’, Shane,” he huffs. “I’m just celebrating being home, okay?”

“Without me?” It’s barely a whisper, and for a second, I’m not even sure his intoxicated brain hears me, but then his smile drops.

His eyebrows furrow, confusion piercing through the haze of alcohol. “You were working,” he says in defense, but he’s never gone to a party without me before.

“Who were those guys?” I ask, an unfamiliar sort of jealousy gnawing uncomfortably at my gut.

“What?” His brows scrunch even further, but I’m not buying it.

“You heard me.”

Toby sighs with resignation. “Just some guys from Sigma Chi. They were teaching me how to play beer pong.”

Since when does Toby hang out with frat boys and play beer pong?

“I’m taking you home,” I say firmly. I hate not knowing if he’s safe.

“No,” Toby retorts, his chin lifting in defiance.

I clench my jaw, weighing my options.

“Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here.”

“You’d have to catch me first!” he shouts with a loud, drunk laugh, darting out of my grasp and running down the stairs.

Motherfucker.

“Toby!” I holler at his retreating back, ignoring the thrum of the party and the nosy people staring.

He doesn’t stop, continuing to weave his way through the crowd in an attempt to get away, but I catch my prey, grabbing his wrist and spinning him around until he bumps into my chest. I stare down at him, scanning his face like I haven’t seen him in a year rather than just a week.

His eyes shimmer like molten gold, melting into my soul.

“Are you done now?” I lift an unamused brow, ready for him to volley back some smartass comment.

Toby hiccups, swaying on his feet. “Actually, yeah. I am done.” He grimaces, holding his stomach like he might be sick.

I wrap a protective arm around his shoulders, steadying him. “Let’s get you home,” I whisper, my lips accidentally brushing his ear as I lead us to the front door. Toby shivers, and a strange little whimper escapes his lips, but I ignore the odd response, chalking it up to alcohol.

As soon as we step off the porch, an angry gust of wind slams right into us.

“Fucking hell, it’s freezing !” Toby whines, hugging himself and rubbing his upper arms for warmth.

“It’s sixty-two degrees out,” I deadpan, glancing over and catching the sheepish look on his face.

“It was eighty degrees in Florida this morning!” Toby cries, defending himself. “And it’s windy!”

Shaking my head, I shrug out of my worn jean jacket. It’s at least three sizes too big for him, but I slip it around Toby’s slim shoulders, allowing it to cocoon him.

“Mmm. Warm,” he sighs, closing his eyes for a moment while we walk down the sidewalk to my truck. “Sure you’re not cold?” he asks, nuzzling deeper into my jacket and taking a subtle sniff.

“I’m fine,” I grunt, helping him into the passenger seat and buckling him in so he doesn’t fall out and bust his drunk ass on the pavement.

“Thanks, Shane,” he murmurs, sinking into his seat and staring out the window.

Neither of us speaks on the short ride home, and when I put the truck in park and glance over, I see why. Toby is slumped in his seat, head hanging to the side uncomfortably.

“Wake up,” I whisper, gently shaking his arm. “We’re home.”

“Huhhh?” he groans, lifting his head and slowly blinking.

“ Home, ” I repeat in slow motion before getting out and walking around to help him down.

Toby is known to be a little clumsy, and that’s when he’s sober, so I’m not taking any chances.

I’ve got half a foot on him, but it still takes some fumbling to get him out of my truck and into the house.

With one arm around his shoulders, I guide him upstairs to his room and pull back the covers, helping him into bed and tucking him in.

Toby hums contentedly with a dopey smile on his face, snuggling the fluffy white comforter under his chin. “Can’t you stay a little while?” he asks, blinking big, sleepy, puppy-dog eyes up at me. He pats the spot next to him when I don’t answer right away. “ Pretty please? ”

I’m starving from skipping dinner, but I’m also so deadass tired from being on my feet all day, that even a short walk down the hall to my bedroom seems like a marathon.

I’ll just stay for an hour, then I’ll get up and make myself something to eat.

“Okay.” I sink into bed next to my best friend. We’ve had sleepovers since we were kids, and I guess we never really grew out of them.

Toby rolls over, allowing me to settle behind him as the big spoon. “Missed you, Shane,” he murmurs before his breathing evens out and a small snore escapes him.

“Missed you, too,” I whisper, drifting off into the best sleep I’ve had in a week.