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

CHAPTER TWO

TOBY

B right, unfiltered light flows through the open curtains in my room, waking me from a groggy sleep with an unwelcome, early morning wake-up call.

“Fuuuck,” I groan, pulling the covers over my head because I’m too hungover to get out of bed and close the curtains. My head is pounding—flashes of hot frat boys, beer pong, and a hurt-looking Shane stomping loudly through my mind. I rub my throbbing temples, but it’s no help.

What the hell was I thinking?

Shane is my best friend, and last night I treated him like he wasn’t important. Like I wasn’t dying to see him after a week apart. Guilt scratches at my aching brain. For blowing him off. For worrying him. And for adding to the burden of his already full plate.

God, I’m a jerk. An absolute freaking jerk.

I should make it up to him somehow, like maybe I should drag my sorry butt out of bed and go get us some greasy, delicious breakfast food. My stomach rumbles happily at the idea, but my body won’t move.

Sighing in defeat, I close my eyes and drift.

If only we could hang out all day like we used to when we were younger.

I wish Shane didn’t have to work so much, but he’s putting himself through college and paying for housing, whereas my parents pay for everything despite our many disagreements.

But Shane and I have always had vastly different home lives, especially as kids.

Homeschooled through third grade, I finally convinced my parents to let me go to an actual elementary school when we moved across the country to South Carolina from Utah.

My dad’s prominent Salt Lake City real estate firm opened up a new East Coast office based out of Crescent Bay, a charming coastal town known for its breathtaking oceanfront properties, driftwood beaches, and quaint coffee shops and cafés.

My mom gave in to my request without much debate, easily abandoning the homeschooling lifestyle she grew up with back in Utah. I guess she finally realized she could sell houses, too, and make her own money. If she just sent me away for most of the day.

In the end, we both got what we wanted.

Turns out, I was way ahead of my peers because I had no life and no friends outside of church, so I skipped fourth grade and went straight to fifth.

That’s where I met Shane—who was much bigger, much older, and luckily, much tougher than me.

He was held back a year, repeating fifth grade for reasons , making him two years older than me.

Neither of us fit in, so we gravitated toward each other and became best friends pretty quickly.

A light knock on my bedroom door startles me out of the warm, sleepy space I was floating in. I tug down the covers and take a deep breath of fresh air so I can finally wake my hungover ass up.

“Y-yeah?!” I croak, not moving from my cozy bed.

“I made breakfast,” a deep voice murmurs through the closed door. “Come down when you’re ready.”

Food. Thank God.

Even though I was sort of an accidental dick last night, I'm glad he’s not that upset because I love when Shane cooks for me.

I really missed it.

I missed him.

Most mornings, we eat in the cafeteria using our meal plans, but I always look forward to the weekends when I’m graced with the pleasure of eating Shane’s food.

A rush of dizziness hits me when I stand up too fast, so I perch on the edge of the bed and close my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before releasing it slowly.

Man, I fucked up last night.

In more ways than one.

I stand up slowly this time, grabbing the sweatpants and hoodie draped over the back of my desk chair and slipping them on.

I spot Shane’s favorite jean jacket in a crumpled heap on the floor, so I pick it up and press it to my nose for a quick second, inhaling the spicy, familiar scent of his cologne.

“Mmm,” I moan, wishing I could wear it all day.

But that would be weird. Right?

I take one last sniff before folding it nicely and placing it on top of my dresser. I’ll give it back later.

Padding down the hall with bare feet, I lock myself in the bathroom to freshen up before I make my way to the kitchen.

The rich, earthy aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills my nostrils as I descend the stairs slowly, careful not to trip since I’m still a little dizzy.

Shane’s back is turned, his attention focused on the skillet in front of him. He’s standing there in nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants, and I swear he’s doing this to me on purpose.

I grab a mug and make myself a much-needed cup of coffee, adding plenty of creamer.

“Sorry about last night,” I blurt, taking my seat at the island.

“How are you feeling?” Shane asks, ignoring my apology and plating up perfectly cooked, over-easy eggs on top of avocado toast.

“A little hungover, but I’ll survive,” I admit.

“You have to take better care of yourself,” he says matter-of-factly, setting a plate in front of me and pouring a tall glass of orange juice to go with it.

I take a deep breath, releasing a dramatic sigh. “Don’t worry, I’m never playing beer pong again,” I vow, desperate to get some food into my belly to soak up any remaining alcohol and give me some energy.

“Good,” Shane says simply, taking a seat next to me and digging into his food.

I smile at how easy that was for us to get over. Shane never holds a grudge. He’s always been there for me, even last night when I was being a drunk idiot.

Scooping up a rogue spoonful of Shane’s creamy avocado spread, I hum at the delicious flavor. “I missed your cooking,” I admit, peeking at him out of the corner of my eye.

Shaggy dark hair hangs over his forehead, blocking intense brown eyes from view.

His strong jaw flexes as he chews, drawing my gaze to perfectly shaped lips I’ve dreamed of kissing ever since I was in ninth grade and first realized I had a crush on my best friend.

The thought of losing him terrified me so much that I locked up the possibility of being gay until recently.

Really recently.

While I was hiding out from the world down in Key West and hopelessly contemplating my sexuality, I decided I’m finally ready to pursue my attraction to guys. I can’t continue living in the closet just because I fell in love with my straight best friend.

I need to branch out and take risks.

I need to date.

A couple nights ago, I downloaded one of those gay dating apps, but I’ve been too chickenshit to open it and make an account. I still count it as progress though because I’ve got to do something to stop thinking about how fucking hot Shane is?—

“What’re you looking at?” he mumbles, swiping his messy hair back and observing me with concern.

My cheeks flush, realizing I’ve been staring at him this whole time, and I’ve hardly touched my food beyond a couple bites.

A buzz in my pocket saves me from having to come up with an answer, because I definitely can’t tell him I was staring at him for five minutes.

“Shit. It’s my mom.”

I’ve been avoiding her since before spring break.

Aren’t you going to say hello to your parents now that you're back in town? I’m starting to think you’re avoiding us.

Maybe because I am.

I reply quickly since I can’t get away with ignoring her anymore. Poor cell service is no longer an excuse.

Sorry, Mother. Of course not. I’ve been getting ready for classes to start again.

School is usually an acceptable excuse for her, even if she’s disappointed that I want to pursue music full-time and not sell real estate.

Dinner at six sharp tonight. It’s not a request, Tobias.

“Fuck me,” I complain, knowing I don’t have a choice, and texting her back like a good son.

Yes, ma’am.

“What’s wrong?” Shane asks, setting his knife and fork down and turning those dreamy fucking eyes on me.

“My parents are forcing me over for dinner tonight,” I complain with a frustrated sigh.

I wish Shane could come with me as a buffer because without him, it’s no holds barred. They will tell me exactly what they think of me, no matter how much it could hurt.

“Need a dinner date?” Shane asks, halting my building panic. “Maybe a bodyguard?”

More like a knight in shining armor.

“Yes,” I breathe out in relief. “Please and thank you.”

I swear he can read my mind.

“On one condition, though,” Shane says with a smirk. “Finish your damn breakfast before I feed it to you myself.”

I hate the way my stomach fills with butterflies, and my body desperately wants to let him. All I can do is laugh it off and finish the rest of my food like he told me to.

“ Thank you, ” I say, pouring as much heart into those two words as I can. “For breakfast, and for coming with me tonight as my emotional support Shane.”

I hope he knows how much I mean it.

“I think I prefer bodyguard.” He reaches over, giving the back of my neck a tender squeeze and sending shockwaves down my spine and straight to my dick.

Fuuck.

“What time should we leave?” Shane asks with a small smile, completely oblivious to my inner turmoil as he gazes down at me with affection. His rough palm continues to massage my neck, his long fingers snaking into my hair and causing goosebumps to erupt across my skin.

“F-five,” I stutter, my cock involuntarily chubbing up. I bite my lower lip to stop an embarrassing moan from slipping out.

He finally lets go, and I don’t know if I want to cry in relief or disappointment.

Good Lord, it is beyond fucked up to get a hard-on for your straight best friend.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“I gotta go to work now, but I’ll be home before five. Promise.” Shane holds his pinky out, and I wrap mine around his, accepting the unbreakable vow.

Shane is a man of his word. I’d never doubt him.

He stacks our plates and stands from the island, taking the dirty dishes to the sink, ready to wash everything like he’s so used to doing at the café.

“I got those, bro,” I say, trying to sound as normal as I can despite the boner I’m hiding under the counter.

“Thanks, Tobes.”

“See you tonight,” I add with what I hope isn’t an awkward smile.

“Later,” Shane mumbles, leaving me and the problem in my pants behind.

I wait another minute to ensure he’s really gone, then rush upstairs, leaving the dirty dishes in the sink. I’m too horny right now, there’s no way my dick’s going down until I come.

After grabbing a towel from the linen closet, I lock myself in the bathroom and turn on the shower so the water can start to heat up. I slip out of my clothes, staring at my tanned and toned body in the mirror while I stroke my cock, unable to wait any longer.

Fuuuck that feels good.

I haven’t come in over a week, having forbidden myself from jerking off in my grandparents’ home long before this vacation ever started.

I pick up the pace, and it doesn’t take long for me to skirt the edge.

A sudden knock on the door nearly gives me a heart attack.

Shit! Who’s home?

“Toby? You in there?!”

At the sound of Shane’s deep voice, adrenaline shoots through me, and I come instantly, slamming a hand over my mouth to muffle the embarrassing whimpers.

Ropes of cum—a week’s worth to be precise—stripe the bathroom counter, my cock pulsing in my hand as I continue to fire load after load.

“Forgot my watch!” Shane yells over the running water.

My chest rises and falls rapidly, a fucked-up sort of thrill flowing through me.

“ Tobes! I’m gonna be late! Just hand me the damn watch!” Shane hollers through the door, and I stare down at said hand completely covered in jizz.

“J-just a second!” I finally manage and turn the sink on, washing my hands thoroughly before I dare touch his watch. I crack the door, sticking my arm out to offer it to him.

“Thanks, bro.” Shane takes the watch, and I quickly lock the door again before he catches a glimpse of the cum-streaked sink, and I have to leave town forever .

Slightly shell-shocked by what just happened, I’m frozen for a moment before a choked laugh erupts from the pit of my stomach at the absolute mess that is the bathroom counter.

That is fucking diabolical.