He’s wearing a lime green bowtie today, and I find myself imagining his entire drawer full of different colored bowties. If you’d asked me before, I would’ve said bowties were a bit dorky, and I haven’t changed that opinion, but Watson pulls them off. Dorky totally works on him.
He waves Livi in my direction, and she sprints over to the car, climbing into the backseat and buckling herself in.
“How was your day?” I ask.
“Good. We played dodgeball in gym, and I kicked butt.”
I chuckle and carefully pull away from the curb. “What do you think about eggplant for dinner?” I tease, glancing into the rearview mirror to catch the look of horror on her face.
“Ew, no Daddy. Pizza,” she bargains in return.
“You’re going to turn into a pizza one of these days.”
Her face lights up. “Then I could eat myself.”
I laugh again. “How about chicken tenders and carrots?”
“Fiiiine,” she sighs. “But I want to watch Frozen.”
For the love of all that is holy, I don’t think I can take another viewing of Frozen. But if it gets her to eat some veggies with dinner, I’ll have to suck it up.
“Deal.”
Watson
Stepping into my empty apartment at the end of the day is always simultaneously peaceful and mildly depressing. I kick off my shoes and loosen my bowtie.
“Hey there, Fermata,” I greet my hedgehog, leaning down to peer into his cage. He dozes happily, getting rested up to run on his squeaky wheel all night long.
I head into my bedroom to change into my comfy after work clothes—sweatpants and a graphic tee—and then shuffle into the kitchen to decide on dinner. I grimace at all the options inside my refrigerator. It’s not that I don’t have plenty I could cook, but it seems so pointless to go through all the trouble just for myself.
I know Mia thinks I should consider the possibility that happily ever after doesn’t have to include a man, but I’ve never much liked being alone. That might be strange coming from someone who’s an only child, but it’s not like I was ever alone growing up either. There were always a couple of foster kids living with us, and my mom worked from home, so I wasn’t one of those kids who had to come home after school and find ways to entertain myself. Some boyfriends in the past have said I’m too clingy, but they weren’t exactly perfect either.
I close the refrigerator and pull out my phone to order from a local sandwich place instead. Once my dinner is sorted out, I go into the living room and pull up Schitt’s Creek on Netflix. Since I’m on my dozenth watch through of the series, it’s more background noise as I scroll through my phone and wait for my food to be delivered.
I look at the meme Ev sent me and chuckle at it again before typing out a text to him.
Watson: I’m so lazy I just ordered a sandwich instead of assembling one myself from the ingredients in my fridge. How’s your night going?
Everett: I’m being forced to sit through Frozen for the millionth time. I’ll trade you.
Watson: Hell yeah. I love Frozen.
Everett: I didn’t mind it the first dozen times, now it’s like a North Korean propaganda video. I swear I’m singing that stupid snowman song while I brush my teeth.
There’s a knock at my door, and I get up to get my food. The delivery guy is cute with a friendly smile and long hair, so I shoot him a flirty smile before I let him go.
Watson: The delivery guy was cute. Unfortunately, he did not offer to come in and have sex with me.
Everett: Again, life is not a porn.
Watson: But imagine how much more fun the world would be if it was.
Everett: I can’t argue with that.
I unwrap my sandwich and dig in, sinking into my happy place as I watch Patrick and David have their first kiss on the screen. My heart squeezes even more than usual, my mind replacing Patrick with Everett. I can’t imagine what it would be like to wait so damn long to kiss another man for the first time. I hope whoever ends up being lucky enough to get Ev’s first kiss is worthy.
I do my best to smother the jealousy that rises up in me at that thought. I’m not going to be Ev’s first anything, even if I want to. I’ve had enough heartbreak without adding something like this to the list. He needs to play the field, make up for lost time by sleeping with tons of guys.
As romantic as the idea is that I could be both his first kiss and his last kiss, I know that’s not how life works. Hell, Mia’s probably right that I should give up the idea of finding Mr. Right all together. If my string of failed relationships isn’t enough proof, I don’t know what is.
Just because I was raised on one too many rom coms and programmed to believe that one day, my perfect leading man will appear out of thin air after some adorably awkward meet cute, doesn’t mean any of that is real.
No, I’m going to print out the paperwork for the foster parent application tonight and get started on it. I can’t keep waiting for someone else to come along and make me happy. I’ll have to do it myself.
Chapter 8
Everett
Sitting alone in my living room with my feet up on the coffee table, happy to be watching something other than Frozen since Livi is with her mom this week, I find myself checking my phone every few minutes for a new text from Watson.
As if summoned by my thoughts, my phone vibrates with a text, Watson’s name displaying across the screen.
Watson: Come over and hang out.
The message is innocuous enough, but it still makes my heart jump and my stomach flutter. Texting is one thing, even hanging out at his favorite bar is pretty innocent, but going over to his place feels like something else.
I chuckle and shake my head at myself. He said he wants to be friends. Friends go to each other’s places. How many times has Cole crashed on my couch in the past? How many times have I gotten drunk and shared a bed with Ollie? It’s no different with Watson; he’s a new friend, that’s all. Just because I think he’s hot shouldn’t make a difference.
Everett: Ok
The next text that comes through has his address and an enquiry about what my usual Chinese order is.
Everett: Orange Chicken and egg rolls. See you in 15.
I grab my baseball cap, slip on my shoes, head out the door. It doesn’t take long to find his apartment building. He buzzes me in, and I climb the stairs to his second-floor apartment.
“Hey,” he greets me at his door when I reach the second-floor landing.
It’s jarring to see him dressed so casually, no bowtie in sight, no pressed slacks or button up shirt. Granted, I’ve only laid eyes on him a few times, but I’ve already come to associate his style with being rather…dapper. Although, I have to admit, he doesn’t look half bad in a pair of sweatpants and a graphic tee either.
“Hey,” I say, stepping inside as he pulls the door wide open and moves out of the way.
“The food should be here in twenty or so,” he tells me as I kick off my shoes. “And as far as the grand tour, this is pretty much it.” He waves his hands around at the small, open concept apartment. “My bedroom is through there, along with a bathroom. Not all that exciting to be honest.”