“Someone nicer who’s…more like you.” I winced the second the words left my mouth. Awkward.
“Thanks, I think. But Rory is actually very nice. And smart too. He’s also a little tortured. A closeted hunky athlete battling self-worth and questioning his sexuality. What can I say? I have a gay fairy godmother complex. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Mitch sighed in defeat and pulled his phone from his back pocket. “Hey, give me your number. If you’re still interested, we can talk about my project next week when you’re free. No pressure. If you don’t return my text, I’ll understand.”
I recited my number, noting the graceful bend of his head as his fingers flew over the tiny keyboard on his cell.
“What’s this project about?” I asked.
“I’ll tell you when we meet. My mind is all over the place right now. I’m entering my personal witching hour.” He chuckled at my perplexed expression before explaining. “Basically, it’s that pivotal moment in every fairy tale when the clock strikes midnight and the hero or heroine is about to be left in rags with a useless glass slipper and a wild story no one will believe.”
“Hopefully you have some cool mouse friends to keep you company in your dungeon until Prince Charming comes back with your shoe,” I said with a laugh.
Mitch snorted derisively. “Disney princesses are confined to towers, Evan. Not dungeons. And if I find any rodents in my apartment, I’m not making friends. I’m calling an exterminator. Ciao!”
“Hang on. Are you ditching me?” I closed the distance between us and fixed him with a mock glare.
“Of course not but…why do you want to hang out with me? Amanda wants to introduce you to her friends and—”
“And I like being with you. Your ex thinks we’re a new couple, and he might not be here, but people talk. Why not give him a taste of his own medicine?”
“And have sex in someone’s else’s bedroom?” he deadpanned.
I grinned and shook my head. “Not my kink.”
Mitch threw his head back and laughed. The joyful sound had a pretty ring to it that made me wish I had something clever to add. “It’s not mine either. But beware, Evan. You’re tall, dark, and handsome, and I really don’t feel like being on my best behavior anymore. It’s not personal. It’s just me.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
He regarded me thoughtfully and nodded. “Okay. But if you don’t mind…I don’t want to talk about Rory or his maybe-girlfriend. And I don’t want to talk about sex. Or anything that’s fairly simple but sometimes gets complicated. So don’t ask me about my project or—”
“Wait. Is this a sex project?” I asked, widening my eyes comically.
Mitch snorted. “I wish. All I’m saying is that I really want to slip into neutral and think about stupid, shallow things like…when are they releasing the lineup for Coachella?”
“Headliner…Justin Timberlake.” I spread my hands wide and nodded like I knew what I was talking about.
“Really? Hmm. I was hoping it would be Britney, but she has Vegas,” he said in a faraway tone.
“Maybe Drake.”
Mitch furrowed his brow and gave me a sharp look. “You have no clue, do you?”
“None.”
“Hilarious,” he scoffed. “I bet it’ll be…”
I followed Mitch back into the house to hang out at a party I no longer cared about just to talk to him. I hadn’t felt this way around a guy in almost five years. I didn’t ask myself why. That wasn’t my style. I was a firm believer that if it felt good, I should do it. And hanging out on the back deck, staring up at the summer stars while dissecting our favorite bands, breakfast cereals, and cocktail recipes as the party fizzled around us was, oddly enough, exactly what I wanted to do.
All night long.
2
Sunday morning came way too soon. I heard Derek shuffle down the hall at nine o’clock and briefly wondered why the fuck he was up so early before pulling my pillow over my head and falling back asleep till noon. I stretched my arms above my head and rubbed my eyes, then reached for my cell to check messages. The first one to pop was from an unknown number. And it was very…chatty.
Hi Evan. This is Mitch. Did we say coffee or lunch or drinks? I have practice every morning this week, and I bet you do too. I’m free any time after one, except for Tuesday and Thursday. I work late those days, but any other day should be okay. Let me know what you think. If you don’t respond, I won’t be offended. But it would be rude, so you should probably at least return my text and let me know if you’re still interested. Okay? Have a good day!
I read the message twice before replying.
You’ve committed a series of texting crimes. Free tomorrow at 1. Lunch at Grub Hub?