Ohshit, what if the restaurant staff thought he was a beaten spouse? What if they called the police?Then he thought about the conversation where he’d have to explain ‘no lady, we are the police.’
Jesus, why was he such an over-thinker?
He showered, hoping the water would improve his condition. It didn’t, but at least he smelled like peach and vanilla, instead of a cannabis factory .
Then his phone rang. It was Matteus. He scowled at the phone, because he really did have amassivebone to pick with his brother. But then he remembered he was pregnant so would probably cry, andman, he did not have the mental fortitude to cope with that.
“Hi,” he said, tone flat.
“Ollie. Hi. How’s it going? Doing anything nice tonight?” And Oliver could just imagine the smug grin on his face.
“I think you know, Matty.”
“Know? Know what? What do I know?”
Oliver lay on the bed, nestling his head in Roger’s lap.Give me strength, my cuddly friend.
“Matty, please. I’m not in the mood for your antics.”
There was rustling down the phone, as it was put onto loudspeaker. “What time are you going?” Julian asked.
“The table’s booked for eight.”
The alpha hummed. “And are you driving or getting a taxi?”
“I’m driving.”
“Have you taken another round of suppressants?”
“Yes.”
“You call us if something happens. Or he makes you uncomfortable, okay?”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “Okay, dad.”
“I mean it, Oll?—”
“And wear that blue shirt with the little white birds on it,” Matteus cut across him. “Oh, oh, and those black jeans that I got you last year. Oh, and your brown ankle boots, yeah? And maybe a silver chain or something.”
Oliver groaned. He could practically hear the cogs working in Matteus’ brain. “Nah, I was thinking of just wearing a tracksuit and sliders.”
Matteus gasped. “You can’t! Oh my God, please Ollie, please don’t. Right, I’m coming over.”
Now Oliver was laughing. “I was joking, you idiot. Yes, I’ll wear the shirt.”
“And the jeans and the boots, got it?”
Sighing, Oliver dragged himself over to his extremely messy wardrobe. He pulled out the shirt and jeans, but instead extracted a pair of black Docs that were hidden under a pile of clothes. “Yes, I’ve got everything. Can I go now?”
“Oh, one more thing! Make your hair all fluffy on the top, like you’ve just got out of bed. You look so cute like that.”
“Jesus Christ, Matty. Anything else?”
“Wear comfortable underwear.”
Oliver wrinkled his nose. “It’s not that kind of dinner, pervert.”
“Sure, sure. Anyhoo, have fun, and send us some food pics!”
