Page 58 of Not Dating Material

Molly chokes so hard he actually sprays his drink over the table.

At the look of sheer mortification on his face and the shock of everyone around us, I lose my crap laughing. I’m dying for him as I hand over a napkin and say, “We covered this on our first date. No covering people with spit, Tiny.”

The embarrassment drains quickly, and his eyes light up. “Clearly, you’re not a very good teacher.” He wipes the liquid dripping from his chin.

“Hold up,” Christian says, leaning forward. “What do you mean, date?”

“Relax.” I hold off rolling my eyes. “It wasn’t a real date.”

“Seven’s helping teach me to be a normal person when I go out with other normal people.”

Émile lightly taps Molly’s hand. “Normal is overrated. The first time I met Christian, he single-handedly ruined a wedding. If the men you’re dating can’t handle messy, they don’t deserve you.”

Molly lights up, and damn, he’s pretty when he smiles. “You think?”

“I tried to walk through the window out front instead of the door,” Christian says. “There’s no turning that shit off. I used to be really hard on myself about it, but Émile helped me see there’s nothing wrong with being a bit …”

“Chaotic?” Émile supplies.

“That. Chaos is fun.”

And this is what I mean about family. They’re all incredible, different, but big-hearted people.

“I’m so glad there were no further issues for you,” Darcy says to Émile. And everything about his plummy accent makes me stabby.

To distract myself, I glance over at where Rush is rapidly texting.

“You good?” I ask.

He glances up and looks around as he locks his phone. “Yep. Totally fine. Just the boyfriend. He’s away for the weekend. We’re making plans. Hopefully for next week, but—”

His phone lights up again, and he all but dives for it.

Well, at least two of us lost boys are happy and in love.

I can’t stop my gaze from straying back to Molly, and he’s already looking at me. He gives me one of those enormous smiles of his, the kind that reaches right down into my gut. The guy has me softening to him tenfold every day, and if I’m not careful, Xander’s won’t be the only fingers I’m wrapped around. All I know is I’m regretting taking the seat at the head of the table when I want to be sitting where Elle is instead. Well, maybe not next to Darcy.

The server comes around, and we place our orders, and as she leaves, Gabe gives me a little upnod. I send a questioning look his way, and he subtly waves a finger between me and Molly, then makes a heart with his hands.

I flip the butthead off.

What was I saying about family again?

I hate them. The lot of them. Everything from Gabe’s smirk to Elle’s over-the-top angelic expression to where Émile’s groping Christian under the table. Madden keeps tugging at the collar of his button-up and seems as distracted by his clothes as Rush is by his phone, and Darcy’s just sitting there awkwardly, staring at his plate and looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

Poor guy was probably told he was coming to meet a hottie. Too bad for him.

Xander’s folding his napkin into a swan.

“What are you going to use to wipe your face with?”

“Yours?” He flutters his lashes at me.

“Not a chance.”

He pouts his pink lips. “It’s like you don’t love me anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Darcy interrupts. “Are you two …”

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