The Blind Date

“Too bad I never did toga parties in college,” I tell myself before laughing. It’s a harsh laugh, the kind of laugh someone who’s losing it might make. But considering I just had my baby sister catch me butt-naked in bed with her best friend, I’d say it’s not all that fucking unexpected.

I shake out the blanket as I try to figure out the least embarrassing way to get this thing to go around my body. With a little bit of fiddling and a failed attempt that requires a restart, I’m soon clad from nipple to knee in a yellow toga, which is about as good as it’s going to get.

Now, if I can just remember where the hell my underwear ended up last night. I think maybe they’re still with my pants, which if I remember right, I kicked off when Riley and I switched positions on the couch . . .

Ah, hell. This is not going to be easy.

There’s no screaming when I press my ear to the door, so maybe Arielle’s already left. In which case she’s probably already called River, so I’ve got about a ten-minute head start to get dressed and maybe get to the sporting goods store a half-mile down the road so I can get a mouthpiece before he tries to kill me.

Dental hygiene is important to me.

I chuckle again, knowing that the hilarity is a symptom of my nerves, so I take a deep breath before opening the door. I walk down the short hallway, expecting to find one of three things. Either Arielle and Riley are glaring at each other, one of them is standing over the other’s bloody body, or there’s a silently crying Riley, ready to blame me for fucking up her life.

Instead, the first sound I hear is Raffy running toward me, and then . . .

“Well, now, he does dress up nicely, I guess,” Arielle says sharply.

Okay, they’re both alive, there are no tears, and they’re looking at . . . me. Which must mean I’m the dead man walking.

I stop, looking at Arielle and Riley sitting together at her small kitchen table. Riley’s wearing a fluffy bathrobe, white with yellow suns on it, that actually looks pretty damn adorable on her, while Arielle looks furious, stirring a cup of coffee as though she’s calculating whether the living room rug will roll around my dead body twice or three times.

“I . . . uh . . . fuck.”

“Yeah, Riley was telling me that’s pretty much what you two did last night,” Arielle snaps, getting up and coming over to poke me in the chest. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Wait.

So she kept her cool the entire time with Riley, adding cream and sugar to a fresh cup of coffee like they were just catching up on the gossip, only to blow up at me the second she lays eyes on me?

“Arielle, I don’t think —”

“No, you don’t.”

Raffy decides now’s the time to jump in on this argument, yipping and barking at my shins. I look to Riley for help, but she lifts an eyebrow, her eyes wide and lips pressed together. Maybe she’s getting a kick out of how ridiculous I look getting cussed out by my baby sister and her fluffy cockblocker while wearing a makeshift blanket toga.

Not that Arielle’s backing down. “Noah, I know you’re not perfect, but I never dreamed you’d be the type to . . . what do you even call this?” she bites out, waving her hands around menacingly. “Sport-fuck my best friend?”

That gets to me, and I bend down to get right back in my sister’s face. “I’m not here for that!” I growl, staring her down because there is zero chance that I’m going to let Riley hear that shit. Especially since it’s completely untrue. “We’re not fucking. We’re dating.”

Arielle freezes, looking back and forth, her finger pointing along with her eyes. “Wait, are you saying you two are . . . dating? For real?”

“That’s literally what I said,” I tell Arielle again, hoping it sinks in this time and she doesn’t keep spouting off insulting shit.

Riley gets up, and the small shrug she gives to Arielle as she comes to my side is like a punch in the gut. I want her to be proud to be with me, but I get that she’s nervous.

But I can be proud enough for the both of us.

I pull Riley to my side, placing my hand on her hip possessively, and kiss the top of her head. And then I glare at Arielle, daring her to say one ugly word.

Riley is finding her strength. Not that she ever lost it, but this morning’s been weird. I mean, we’re standing here half-naked in bed linens with my sister, explaining ourselves, so I can give Riley some slack on needing a second to catch up.