“Doing what?”
She widened her eyes comically and squealed. “I have a date too! I met him in a chat room and—”
“A chat room?” I repeated. “Soph, the guys who hang out in chat rooms are trolls.”
“Not this one,” she insisted, tapping her long fingernails on my forearm.
“Hmph. What’s he like?”
“Well, he seems sweet. Red hair, blue eyes, good sense of humor. He’s not super handsome, but he’s cool. I like him, but I think it’s safer…and more fun, if we do this together. So you’ll be on your date, and I’ll be on mine. If anything goes wrong, we can rescue each other ASAP. It’s a precautionary measure…to make sure he’s not a psycho,” she said in a rush.
“If you think he’s a psycho, don’t go, Soph,” I advised in a paternal tone.
“I don’t think he’s psycho.” She fanned her hands dramatically, then slapped one on her knee and one on mine. “Okay…full disclosure. He’s a little older than me.”
“How old?”
Sophie bit her bottom lip. “Thirty-two, I think. He’s divorced, has a kid, and worries about his mom a lot.”
“Alarms bells are ringing in my ears right now.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” she chided. “I need you to be my chaperone. Are you free Friday night?”
I shook my head in disbelief. “I think I—”
“Great! Jacques is coming. Not a word to anyone. Even Phoenix. Pinky promise.” Sophie wrapped her pinky finger around mine before I could protest.
And just as Phoenix hopped off the stage to join us. “Don’t tell me what?”
“Sophie asked me on a date,” I deadpanned.
Phoenix bugged his eyes out and darted a look between Sophie and me. “I’m crushed. You pledged eternal love for me, Soph.”
He flashed a wide grin as he flopped onto the seat beside me. Not gonna lie. That grin used to turn me inside out. Phoenix was one of my best friends. Two years ago, we’d tried to be something more, but it didn’t last long.
That probably sounded more complicated than it was. We met at an audition for a school play. I was newly out at the time and trying to find a niche for myself that didn’t involve volleyball. As much as I loved my sport, I’d felt like I’d had to suppress the part of me that enjoyed activities my teammates considered less “macho.” Like the theater. At twenty-one, I didn’t think it was possible to kick ass on the court, act in a community production, and be out. I’d been sure I’d lose something. Not just my sport, but my friends, and my sense of belonging.
The hardest part was knowing that my conservative parents wouldn’t take it well. I thought if I slowly eased out of the closet, it wouldn’t be as traumatic for them. And I’d figure out who my real friends were along the way. The first guy I fell for was Phoenix.
Phoenix was five nine, lean, and fine-boned. He moved like a dancer, graceful and sure, always with his head held high. He had gorgeous blue eyes, sculpted cheekbones, and he had a tendency to dye his hair various shades of blond. Like today. His red lips contrasted nicely with his short platinum hair. He looked like a model in his tailored black shirt and rolled-up jeans.
“Oh, hush. You have Max and he’s fabulous eye-candy.” She stood and rubbed Phoenix’s shoulder as she glanced toward the stage. “I’m going to grab some money. I sense a latte in my future.”
“She’s setting you up,” Phoenix singsonged when Sophie stepped away. “She always has a drama unfolding in her head. Thank God she prefers rom-coms to tragedies, or we’d all be dead by now.”
I chuckled softly. “You’re giving her too much credit.”
“You’re not giving her enough,” he argued. “She’s the queen of setups. She set me and you up, remember?”
I furrowed my brow. “No, we met at school.”
“Yes, but Sophie was the one who told you I said you were cute. Like we were in junior high,” he huffed with a laugh. “She practically forced you to ask me out.”
He wasn’t wrong, actually. But that was a long time ago. Phoenix had been with his man for a while now, and he was head over heels.
“How’s Max?” I asked, shamelessly changing the subject.
Phoenix grinned. “He’s great. He’s on his way home from work now. Poor guy is adjusting to corporate hours. I told you he got a job selling real estate at Evan’s firm, didn’t I? You remember Evan. He played football at Chilton.”
“I do. And you remember him because you’re a huge sports fan, right?” I teased.
“Oh, God, no. I love Max, but I don’t get baseball. Or volleyball. But I like people, and I’m always fascinated by connections. So is Sophie, and that’s why she’s taken you on as a pet project. Beware, my friend.”
“Nothing is going to happen.”