Page 17 of The Bro Date (Best Bros Forever #2)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

TOBY

O ur date to Driftwood Beach was just as amazing as the butterfly house, but Shane still hasn’t kissed me. Not since that very first time, and it has me overthinking everything .

Another week of school passes, distracting me from the confusion that is my dating life, but now it’s Friday night, and I’m back to contemplating my entire existence.

Shane has a catering gig, so instead of pacing my bedroom alone, I’m hanging out with Tate and Daija at their apartment and having a much-needed sleepover.

“Strawberry margaritas are ready!” Daija calls from the kitchen. “Come and get ’em!”

Tate pauses the TV, and we jump up from the couch where we were just zoned out, re-watching Bridgerton .

“We need to bake cookies later. Before we get too drunk,” Daija says, sipping her drink and humming. “Yum.”

I take a tentative sip, but the sweet, strawberry flavor easily hides how much tequila she most likely put in these.

“Girl, these are so fucking good,” Tate says, taking another large gulp before we carry our drinks back to the living room.

“If either of you spills on my couches, you’re getting a spanking,” Daija says, brown eyes sparkling. “And not the fun kind.” She tucks her long legs underneath her, pulling the turquoise throw blanket off the back of the couch and draping it across her lap.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, babe. You know I like that sort of thing.”

Daija laughs, picking up the remote and throwing it at him. “Let’s watch a movie, you freak. I’ve seen this episode three times.”

“I already scrolled for thirty minutes before I gave up and put Bridgerton back on,” Tate whines.

Daija sighs. “Fine, whatever. That way we can chat. Toby needs to update us on his love life.”

Tate presses play on the episode we were just watching, turning down the volume and facing me enthusiastically. “Well, go on.” He sips his margarita. “How was your latest date? To the beach, right?”

“Yeah. To Driftwood Beach. It was really cool. Beautiful actually. I just . . .”

“You just what, babe?” Daija encourages.

“I just wish it was for real. I wish he really liked me, and I wish he would kiss me. Something in the back of my brain keeps insisting this is all for pity.”

Self-doubt is a bitch.

I didn’t tell them that we actually did kiss before any of these dates started.

It would feel like a betrayal to Shane. But they do know he’s taking me out in order to show me how a man should treat me, and they also know I've been secretly pining after him for years. It’s all just a mess. A confusing, gay mess.

“He likes you, silly! These dates may be PG-rated, but the man is practically in looove,” Tate teases. “Listen, I can recognize a straight boy falling into a gay for you situationship when I see it.” He picks up his phone from the end table, his painted thumbs flying across the keyboard.

“What?” I laugh.

“Oh, yes. That’s totally what’s happening here,” Daija agrees. “He’s so possessive.”

“Those aren’t just friendly, bro outings, they’re full-on romantic dates without the kissing or fucking.

I’ve seen this before, honey,” Tate says confidently.

“Let me give you the rundown. He’s most likely going round and round in his head, winding the string tighter and tighter until one day .

. . it all just goes boom !” Tate shouts the last word with an exaggerated hand explosion, making Daija and me both jump and nearly spill our drinks.

“Huh? What goes boom?” I’m so confused right now.

“His straight card, of course! And you, my dearest Toby boy, need to be prepared for that day.” A few more taps on his phone before he sets it back down. “ There. You have a special delivery coming.”

“What?” I feel like a broken record, but I wish he’d just spit it out and stop talking in riddles. “What do you mean I need to be prepared, and what the heck did you just order?” I ask suspiciously, certain he didn’t buy me the new strings I’ve been wanting.

“Call me when you get your package, and then we’ll talk. If you still need your questions answered.” Tate giggles, glancing at Daija with a sly, knowing grin.

“ You guys! This isn’t fair, just freaking tell me!” I whine, making them laugh even louder.

“Okay, okay,” Tate gives in. “But don’t freak out.” He grabs his phone again, smiling mischievously before handing it over.

I gaze down at the screen, a large, flesh-colored dildo, complete with veins and a pink tip, staring back at me.

“It’s not as big as it looks in the picture!” Tate insists. “It’s actually considered introductory size. Promise!”

“Yeah, you should see the size of Tate’s dildo,” Daija teases.

“And I’m proud of it!” Tate fluffs his curls. “It’s taken me years to work up to it.”

I swallow hard, completely intimidated by the idea of putting something up my butt.

Tate bursts out laughing, his blond curls bouncing around his face. “Don’t look so scared, babe! It has ten different vibration modes, so you can start slow. I know you’re gonna like it. You just have to get used to it. Think of this as another tryout for Team Dick.”

Tate sets his drink down, standing up with a carefree smile like he didn’t just order a massive, vibrating dildo that I’m supposed to practice with. “Face mask time?”

“ Yeah! ” Daija jumps up from the couch, running to the kitchen. “And cookies!”

“Tobes, it’s your turn to pick something,” Tate says, smiling down at me.

“And Bridgerton ,” I mumble reluctantly, completely embarrassed by his lack of a filter, even though I know he only has my best interests at heart.

Guess it’s time to find out what butt play feels like.

I can’t stop thinking about the X-rated package that’s coming in the mail while I lie here on Tate and Daija’s couch trying to fall asleep. It’s past midnight, but my mind is dizzy with fantasies, and the two margaritas I drank sure aren’t helping.

What will the dildo feel like?

Will I like it?

Can I even take it?

Soft, fuzzy images of Shane float into my thoughts. His kind, patient eyes provide comfort and reassurance, telling me not to doubt myself. Insisting I can do it.

I drift further into the fantasy, the edges of reality starting to blur when Shane kisses me. My fingers ghost over my lips as if to check whether this is real, and despite the fact that it’s not, I can’t stop what’s playing out in my head even if I wanted to.

“Let me help you,” Fantasy Shane urges, the dildo appearing in his hands in the blink of an eye, followed by an extra-large bottle of lube. “Let me make you feel good.”

“Yes. Please, Shane. I want you to,” I moan, and I’m so lost in the fantasy that I can only pray that I said the words in my head and not out loud.

His tall frame stalks toward me, the haze of dreamworld surrounding him and slightly morphing his features. He looks hungry and determined and ready to make me beg.

A sudden buzzing sound startles me, shattering the perfect facade I built so beautifully in my mind. I grab my phone from the coffee table, squinting at the way-too-bright screen. It’s a text from Shane.

Hope you had a good night.

Chewing on my bottom lip, I debate whether it’s too late to text him back or not.

Fuck it. I’m too drunk to care. Besides, he texted me first.

I did, but I missed you the whole time.

The text bubbles appear then disappear a couple times before he sends his response.

Missed you too.

Hope I didn’t wake you.

You didn’t. Can’t sleep.

I blush at what was actually going through my mind instead of sleeping, and now I feel a little guilty about my inappropriate fantasies involving my best friend.

Everything okay? Want me to come get you?

Butterflies swarm my stomach, and I practically melt into the couch with his thoughtfulness. I’m on the verge of saying yes, but I decide not to be so dramatic.

All good here. Just a restless brain, but thanks for the offer. See you tomorrow.

Night.

I close my eyes, finally drifting off to sleep with a silly little smile on my face. If my fantasy were to ever come true, I think I’d simply pass away.