Page 2 of A Match Made In Evan
After hanging his head for a moment, my best friend finally turns sideways in his seat to face me directly. He takes a deep steadying breath, then says, “I need you to date me.”
I blink at him, aware that I’m gaping. “Say what now?”
James lifts his glass and gulps down his drink as though fortifying himself further with the alcohol. “Ev,” he pleads, “I need you to be my boyfriend. Well…my fiancé, actually, if I’m putting all my cards on the table.”
And, even though we’re both straight (or, at least, I think we are), I find I still can’t deny my best friend anything.
Without tearing my gaze from James’, I signal for the redhead to return, and I hold up my half-empty glass. “We’re going to need another round.” Not waiting for her response, I lift what’s left of my current beverage and raise it in a faux toast. “To our impending nuptials.”
Then I skol the whole thing in an eye-watering gulp.
What the actual fuck am I getting myself into now?
Chapter One
James
“Dad, have you seen my phone charger?” Mia yells from her bedroom.
Sighing, I lean back from where I’m fiddling with the coffee machine and call back, “What’s the rule?”
Silence is my answer.
I swear, it was only yesterday she was tottering around on chubby toddler legs, her blonde hair in pigtails and her adoration for me more than obvious. But today she’s on the cusp of sixteen, and I can’t remember ever being as frustrating when I was her age.
Maybe I’ve spoiled her.
For her whole life, it’s just been the two of us together against the world. My little princess and me. I’m not going to pretendthat it’s been easy, but I was pretty proud of myself for how well I’ve managed.
Until now.
Now, my kid rolls her eyes when I talk, assuming she really listens at all.
I miss the little girl who used to hang on my every word.
But kids grow up. My parents love to remind me that I wasn’t much older than her when I became a parent myself.
I’ve decided they’re evil, too. Like I need an extra layer of paranoia in my parenting, especially now that Mia has started dating.
Ugh.
However, that’s not what I’m stressing about this morning. No, this morning’s focus is on the appointment Mia and I have with a local private school. Mia’s been on the waiting list to enrol for Years Eleven and Twelve since she started high school. Apparently, Winchester College has the most prestigious Performing Arts department in the state and, as an aspiring actress with her sights on NIDA, she has to get into this school or herlife is over.
Yes, those are her words. No, I won’t be arguing with her about them. She’s doubled down on her studies to make the cut for Winchester, and I promised her that I would do everything in my power to help her achieve her goals. I’m all she’s got, and that means I have to be her biggest supporter. Besides, what kind of shitty parent would I be to not even try when she has worked her arse off at school for the past three years?
“The rule is that things need to be put back where they belong,” I mutter to myself as I head into the living room. I find the charger plugged into the wall socket closest to the recliner. There are dents in the worn beige carpet from where the chair was positioned prior to my teenager wanting to charge her phone and scroll through it at the same time. With a sigh, I pullthe cable and the wall plug from the socket and head down the hallway. I don’t bother to knock on the open door, just clear my throat.
Mia, who is currently on her hands and knees with her tartan-covered butt in the air, searching under her bed for the item in my hands, shoots to her feet and spins around to face me, her hair wild from her exertions. “You found it!” she cries, blue eyes lighting on the cable in my hands. She doesn’t even look at me, just lunges for it.
I pull it back andtsk. “Seriously, Mimi, what’s the rule?”
“Stop calling me that,” she rolls her eyes, then folds her arms over her chest. “I’m not five anymore, Dad.”
Please don’t remind me.
Arching an eyebrow, I wait expectantly.
Mia huffs, then with as much put-upon teenage attitude as she can muster, drones, “Put things away where they’re s’posed to go.”
