Page 3 of The Bro Date (Best Bros Forever #2)

CHAPTER THREE

TOBY

L ater that evening, Shane knocks on my bedroom door, showing up just like he promised he would.

I open the door with a smile, stepping aside.

“Hey, come in,” I say, feeling a little awkward around him after what happened this morning, even though he’s completely innocent and has no clue that I’m a raging pervert.

Shane brushes past me, a spicy wave of citrus and bergamot in his wake.

He perches on the end of my bed, looking so fucking handsome in black slacks and a matching button-down with the sleeves rolled up.

His monochromatic tattoos peek out, the lone wolf drawing my eye.

It’s the first one he ever got, and also my favorite.

I finish tucking in my baby-blue button-down, feeling like a Sunday school teacher in khaki pants and loafers. “How was work?” I ask lamely, all too aware of how sexy he is and how completely distracted I am because of it.

His stare is powerful, like the rest of the world stops moving when he looks at me. My cheeks slowly heat up, and I fight the urge to press my palms to them.

“It was okay,” he finally responds in that deep, growly voice of his.

I nod way too many times, probably looking like a damn bobble head. “Good. Good . . . So, uh . . . I really appreciate you getting off early for me.”

The thought of facing my parents alone right now makes me want to puke.

I haven’t told anyone I’m gay, and the two of them sure as hell won’t be the first to know, but I still feel on edge around them because they disagree with pretty much everything about me. I’m sure being gay will just be another thing added to the list.

“Toby,” Shane growls, and I glance up from where I was picking at my nails, my breath coming out in short, little pants. We lock gazes, and his stare is so focused, my stomach decides to attempt gymnastics like we’re trying out for the Olympics. “You okay?” he asks.

No. Nope. Definitely not okay.

I’m gay, Shane.

Gay!

The words ping-pong around in my head but never leave my mouth. Something deep down keeps telling me that as soon as he finds out I’m into guys, he’ll automatically know I’ve been in love with him for years.

I mean, how could he not?

I shake my head, unable to get any words out while I attempt to calm my racing thoughts and shaky hands.

Shane stands from the edge of the bed, towering over me as he steps into my personal space.

“Relax, okay? Nothing bad will happen. That’s why I’m here.

” A lock of raven hair falls free, dangling in front of his eyes and tempting me to slick it back with all the rest. “Just take a deep breath.” Shane breathes in through his nose, then out through his mouth slowly. “Come on, Tobes. Do it with me.”

He’s so earnest and so pure.

I do as he says, finally getting my breathing under control. “Thank you,” I murmur, “and thanks for showing up.” I stare off to the side, cataloging my messy desk and the trash can full of crumpled sheet music that desperately needs emptying.

Out of the corner of my eye, a large hand reaches for me, turning my head and tilting my chin so I’m forced to look him in the eye.

“I always show up.”

There’s no room for argument there.

I swallow hard as Shane stares down at me, my traitorous stomach flipping and tumbling, once again aiming for a gold medal floor routine.

Hiding anything from Shane is hard . He sees right through me. But now is not the time to come out to him.

“We should probably go,” I say a little too breathlessly. “Don’t wanna be late.” Slipping out of Shane’s orbit, I pat myself down, making sure I have my phone, wallet, and keys.

“I’ll drive,” Shane announces, and that’s fine with me, so I toss my keys back on the desk.

I’m sure my mother will absolutely love the rusty old pickup truck parked in her driveway.

We arrive fifteen minutes early to my parents’ house on the beach, which is right on time according to their standards.

Shane hops out, jogging around to open the door for me.

It kind of feels like we really are on a date, but then I remember it’s only because the door is jammed and hard as hell to open.

My desperate brain needs to chill the fuck out. It’s embarrassing.

Solar lights illuminate the small path from the driveway to the house, and beautiful palm trees dot the immaculately landscaped front yard.

Three stories tall and built on stilts, the house I grew up in could be featured in the pages of a magazine, and honestly, that would probably be my mother’s dream.

The pale-yellow exterior is accented with white trim, porthole windows, a wraparound porch on the second level, and a giant, way-too-steep staircase that has plagued me since childhood.

“Need a sec?” Shane asks, handling me with kid gloves as I hauntingly stare up at the house that was never really a home.

I shake my head. “No, I’m fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Shane doesn’t look convinced, but we climb the steps and ring the doorbell, nonetheless.

My mother greets us with a forced smile and tight eyes like she’s already annoyed, and maybe she is, since I texted her last minute and said I was bringing a guest.

As if he can sense the spiders crawling under my skin, Shane steps closer, allowing our arms to brush and offering his silent support.

“Good evening, Mother.” The words taste foul when I don’t even want to be here, but what else am I supposed to say?

“Mrs. Livingston,” Shane adds politely with a nod.

“Tobias. Shane. ” I swear her lip curls a little when she practically spits his name like it’s poison. She scans him from head to toe, lingering on the tattoos sticking out of his rolled-up sleeves. Judging him.

I fucking hate it, and I hate being here.

“So good to see you boys. Please, do come in,” she says with false sincerity.

I’m sure my mother isn’t happy I brought him, but tonight, Shane’s offering to be my shield, and I’m going to let him.

“Say hello to your father in his study. Dinner will be ready shortly.” Her high heels clink against the hardwood floor as she sashays back to the kitchen.

“Yes, ma’am,” we say in unison, stepping into the large foyer, complete with an elaborate bouquet of fresh flowers and a giant, driftwood chandelier.

“This way,” I murmur, leading him upstairs to the library as if he doesn’t remember where it is. My parents have lived in this house since we first moved to Crescent Bay ten years ago.

I pause at the top of the stairs, speaking in a hushed whisper. “I’m sorry for dragging you along.”

“Don’t be,” he murmurs, and I almost don’t hear the next part. “I’d go anywhere with you, Toby.”

My stomach bottoms out, and I tell my heart not to read too much into his words. Shane isn’t gay. He doesn’t even really like girls .

“I . . .”

I don’t know what to say.

“Thank you,” I whisper, feeling guilty that I’m hiding such a huge secret from him when he’s been nothing but steadfast and loyal for ten years.

Shane reaches out, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze and sending a lightning bolt straight to my dick.

“After you.” He sweeps his arm out in front of us and holds it there.

I brush past him, leading us to the arched doorway of my father’s study and lightly knocking on it.

“Tobias,” he says in a bored greeting when we step into what has always been deemed his space and usually off-limits.

Matthew Livingston has thick brown hair that’s neatly parted on one side and just barely starting to gray at the temples. His black-framed glasses compliment his strong jaw, and as always, he’s wearing a fucking suit and dress shoes to dinner.

He’s standing in front of the wet bar, sipping his favorite whiskey, while some nature show plays unwatched in the background. Not to mention, he’s probably hiding out from Mom.

Silver moonlight shines through the skylights above, illuminating the wooden bookshelves lining the walls and the hundreds of books on them. If I didn’t already know they were filled with nonfiction and religious texts, I might actually be impressed. Or even excited.

I prefer romance.

Taking a deep breath and steeling my resolve, I stroll over to greet my father with a strong handshake, followed by Shane.

“Shane, buddy. I didn’t know you were coming,” my dad says somewhat rudely before turning to me. “Tobias, when your mother told me you were bringing a guest, I thought you were finally bringing a girl home,” he chuckles, trying to belittle me. “Shane’s not your boyfriend, is he?”

My lungs freeze with panic. In fact, I think my brain does, too. I’m completely unable to voice any sort of comeback as all the blood drains from my face. Luckily, Shane swoops in and saves me with the perfect joke.

“Nah. Toby’s outta my league,” Shane quips with a smirk, giving me a subtle nudge with his elbow.

My dad barks out a loud laugh, ushering us over to the lounge area. “Take a seat, boys.”

He sits in his favorite old wingback chair, while Shane and I take the sofa.

“So, tell me, son, how was Key West?” Dad asks, crossing his legs and resting his ankle on the opposite knee.

“Your mother was quite upset you didn’t come home for spring break when we’ve hardly seen you all year.

You do know we live on the beach, too, hmm?

You didn’t have to go all the way to Florida. ”

“I wasn’t out partying or anything. I was visiting family. Mom’s family. It was Gran and Bo.”

I knew I was going to have to defend myself.

“That doesn’t make it right to ignore your mother this long, Tobias. Keep it up, and you can live at home for the summer.”

“But, Dad?—”

“I won’t hear another word about it,” he says sternly, completely cutting me off before taking a healthy swallow of his drink. “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Yes, sir.”

I hate when he makes me feel like I’m still a kid and can’t make my own decisions.

“So, are you boys ready to get back into classes after a week off? It’s important to finish the year strong.”