Page 3 of Forecheck
My best friend’s eyes narrowed. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“There’s a lot I don’t tell you,” I shot back.
Still, Mitch knew me too fucking well for a man who’d only been my friend for roughly three years, and he crowded my space enough that the backs of my knees hit the stool in front of my locker. I sat down hard.
Arms crossed, he loomed over me, patiently waiting for me to spill. Mitch’s searing gaze never wavered, and I knew I wasn’t getting out of giving himsomething.
Feigning nonchalance, I said, “I might’ve met someone last night.
“Who? Someone at the bar?”
“Yep.”
“Well?” Mitch prompted. “Care to share with the class?”
“Her name is Berkley, and…hell, I don’t know. I felt something.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
“She’spretty,” I amended for him, a bit wistfully.
“Christ, you’ve got it bad,” Mitch said, snorting a laugh. “So how exactly did this happen?”
I succinctly relayed the story of Berkley approaching me at the bar, and how I could tell there was chemistry there. Mitch looked skeptical, but it wasn’t only wishful thinking. Iknewto the very marrow of my bones that I hadn’t imagined the tinysomethingsparking to life between us as we spoke.
“So…what are you going to do about it?” Mitch asked.
“I haven’t quite decided.”
“Slide into her DMs!” one of the rookies shouted at me. “That always works for me!”
“I’m also nearly a decade older than you,” I grumbled. “And an actual adult.”
“That’s offensive,” Tommy Grey, the rookie in question, said as he padded over. He was shirtless and clad only in a pair of bright pink boxers with cartoon dogs decorating them.
I gestured at the shorts. “No,thoseare offensive. What the fuck are you wearing?”
Grey spared only a passing glance for his underwear, waving my question off. “My mom got them for me. Quit deflecting.”
“Look, I know you’re trying to help, Grey,” I said, standing and dropping my hand onto his naked shoulder. “But dating at my age is a lot different than the Netflix and chill bullshit kids like you and Rat get up to.”
Hank “Rat” Ratelle made a noise of protest from across the room, but Grey shrugged. “I’m just saying. If you want to talk to her, the easiest way to accomplish that is by sliding into her DMs. Have you even tried to stalk her Insta?”
I frowned. “I don’t know her last name.”
“With a name likeBerkley, I doubt she’ll be hard to find,” Mitch said, and I cut him a scathing look.
“Mind your business.”
“You are my business, dickhead,” Mitch said, shooting me a grin. “As your best friend, it’s my job to get your ugly ass laid.”
“That’s hardly within the realm of best friend duties,” I scoffed. “You don’t see me walking around trying to getyoulaid.”
“That’s becauseIdon’t need help.Youclearly do.”
“You’re an asshole,” I said. “And I don't want to have sex with her. I want…” I trailed off. I didn’t know what I wanted, but it wasn’t that.
Well, okay, it was, but notonlythat.
