She stomped her foot and pointed at me. “Don’t play coy with me, young lady. Everyone knows that date number three is the sex date. Not that the two of you can count for shit, but according to your boyfriend, tonight is it.”
My cheeks burned when Britney called Frank my boyfriend. Our relationship was still new, but I couldn’t hide how I reacted to that word, or how it sparked a whole slew of butterflies to take flight in my stomach.
“Who’s everyone?” I asked, trying to play it off like I wasn’t nervous as hell.
“Don’t act like you don’t know this.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I tried to hide the smile that wanted to sneak out, but teasing Britney was too much fun.
“Fine. Play dumb. Answer me this then. You’re wearing a matching bra and underwear, right? True or false.”
I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide, so I threw a towel at her instead of answering.
“Answer the question,” she demanded, already knowing my answer.
“Maybe?” I shrugged.
Glaring at me, Britney folded her arms. “True. Or. False.”
“True,” I admitted, thinking about the matching red lace set I was wearing under my ripped jeans and off-the-shoulder black top. My hair hung down my back with long loose curls only at the ends, a style that I knew drove Frank crazy.
“Totally having sex. Not to mention the sex hair.”
Our apartment’s intercom buzzed, and I was thankful for the interruption. The very idea of my potential first time with Frank was nerve-racking enough; I didn’t need Britney’s help freaking out about it. Even if I wanted it desperately, had planned for it, and fantasized about it constantly.
“Who is it?” Britney sang into the intercom.
Frank’s voice boomed through the speaker. “Delivery!” He didn’t even have to be in the room, and his charisma still filled the space.
“Ooh, I hope it’s the sex toys and porn we ordered,” she called out before hitting the button to let him in.
Mortified, I shook my head. “Really, Britney?”
She cracked up until Frank walked through the door, then she stopped. “Why are all you Fisher brothers so damn hot? It’s not fair to the rest of the male population, you know.”
“Take it up with my mother,” he said with a wink. “I’m pretty sure it’s her fault.”
I died inside as I took him in, realizing that we had unintentionally matched. Again. He was wearing faded blue jeans and a black button-down shirt that fit him snug around his arms and chest.
“We match,” I said as he bent down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.
“We always match.”
I stifled a laugh because it was true. Frank and I were always showing up in the same color scheme as if we’d planned it. It was as embarrassing as it was adorable.
“Okay, go already. Take your matchy-matchy selves out of here and go do what people do on their third dates,” Britney said as she shooed us out of the apartment. “She has no curfew, by the way. Keep her as long as you want!” she shouted as we walked down the stairs.
“She’s totally trying to get rid of you,” Frank teased as he smacked my ass playfully. “By the way, you look beautiful.” He was always doing that, complimenting me and making me feel special.
“Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself.”
When we got outside, I looked around for his motorcycle but couldn’t spot it. “Are we walking somewhere?” I glanced down at my high heels and prayed he’d said no.
The sound of a car beeping diverted my attention, and I was surprised to see Frank open the passenger door of a sleek gray BMW.
“You got a car?”