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“Nah, I can meet you guys there.”
“Oh C’mon, let’s save the planet and gas or something like that.” She’s pleading.
“You just want to catch me running around in my boxers.” I joke.
“Nah, you’re taken goods.”
“You’ve seen the house, what more do you want to see?” Please don’t say Max, Please don’t say Max.
“I’m curious if your brother would recognize Tatum, you know if we showed up knocking on your door asking for you to come out and play.” She pretends to sound innocent.
“Let’s not and say you did.” Please drop it.
“C’mon. Please? Pretty, pretty please, with a cherry on top?”
“Begging doesn’t sound good on you.” I deadpan.
“That’s not what the guy last weekend said.” She retorts back. Touché.
“Fine. But you guys don’t poke the sleeping bear. Nothing obvious, just smile and no lingering.”
“Pfft! You’re no fun!” She whines like a child.
“Is Tatum aware of your grand plan?”
“No, she’ll find out though soon. I’ll play it off like he’s not home.”
“You realize, this is my brother you’re talking about, right?”
“Of course, your super hot brother.” She gushes. I roll my eyes.
“Whatever, 6:30, I don’t know why I even agree to these things with you.”
“You got it stud, oh and it would be fun if you answered in polka-dot boxers. You know wrap the whole story around.” She laughs and cuts the call abruptly.
* * *
“Seriously, this?”I ask looking into the full-length mirror on Max’s closet door.
Max pulls out several button-down shirts from the closet. He has at least ten of them thrown across his bed. I have a paisley shirt on currently, with maroons, grays and blacks. It’s between this shirt, which Max likes and a pin striped shirt that I would prefer.
“This shirt is more of an attention getter, the striped one is classic and boring.” He states sitting in his chair in the corner of the room.
“You realize I have a girlfriend, and this is for a school dance, in which I am a chaperone at, right?” I ask.
“Yeah totally, but I remember making fun of the chaperones when I was at school dances.”
“Why on earth would you wear a paisley shirt, isn’t that like wearing wall paper or a sofa?” I mock.
“That’s why the colors are more masculine buddy. A chick likes more the metro thing nowadays anyways. Besides, at one point you thought this shirt was cool, I mean it’s still in your closet.”
“Again, I have a girlfriend.”
“I know, I know. Why do I feel like a teenage girl gossiping with you about clothes?” I look at the clock next to his bed, it’s 6:25pm. The doorbell rings and my heart stills. Max looks puzzled.
“It’s my co-workers, we’re car-pooling. Will you grab the door and let them in?”
Might as well get this over with.
