He’s smiling now,and he looks so damn eager and young. God, was I ever that bright-eyed and innocent? I take one look at the guy, and I think about what Ollie said. I just don’t have it in me to turn him down. Did I want the date? No, but that’s not his fault. And it’s not Ollie’s either, I guess. He was just trying to do us both a favor.
“Friday sounds great,”I tell him. “But I’ll meet you there.” Will nods eagerly, like this is the best idea he’s ever heard. I catch Ollie’s attention, and he’s grinning ear-to-ear. Van nods in approval, like he’s sanctioning our date, while Santos gives me a thumbs up. These guys are all my surrogate brothers, and I love them dearly, but I don’t know what they’re thinking, offering their approval. This is just a charity auction date, not a real date. Two hours of polite, probably awkward conversation, and my work here will be done. After next week, the only time I’ll see Will Franconetti will be when I’m in the stands cheering on the hockey team.
12
Will
“Tonight’s the night, huh?” Van says, looking away from the video game he’s playing with Santos. I’m ready for my date with Mel—well, I’m dressed at least—and on my way to meet up with her at the restaurant. Van gives me a once-over and a nod of approval. I’m glad to know I pass the test, but that half a second is enough for Santos’ on-screen player to deke right past his and put the biscuit in the basket.
“Yes!” Santos cheers, a huge grin splitting his bearded face. “I never beat Van—I owe you one, Franconetti.”
“Nets,” Ollie says, reminding him of the ridiculous nickname he christened me with earlier this week. Thank god it hasn’t stuck, and everyone keeps forgetting to use it.
“Nope,” Santos says, shaking his head. “There’s no way in hell I’m calling this guy ‘Nets’.”
“Thank you,” I tell him.
“Why not?” Ollie asks, clearly affronted.
“Because it’s dumb,” Norris answers, shrugging.
“Bullshit,” Ollie volleys back. “We play hockey with anet. His last name is Franconetti. So, Nets. Get it?”
“I get it,” Norris nods. “But I still think it’s dumb.”
Van looks up from the bowl of popcorn he’s been munching on. “I’m with Norris. Nicknames just come naturally, or they don’t come at all. You can’t force it, Olls.”
“I’m not forcing shit,” Ollie says. “I’m just trying to inject a little creativity into the group, but apparently, it’s not welcome.” He crosses his arms over his chest, but he doesn’t seem too pissed. And when Norris tosses him a beer, he unfolds his arms to catch it, cracks the top, and takes a sip. It’s then that he really looks at me.
“Shit, you’re all dressed up. What—oh, man! Your date with Mel—is that tonight?”
“I feel like you should know this,” Norris interjects. “You know, considering you’re the one who bought the date.”
Ollie waves him off. “I’m a matchmaker, not a secretary. I don’t deal with the details, I’m just here to make a love match.”
Love match? I can feel my face heating up as I adjust my tie. I mean, yeah, Mel’s gorgeous, and I’ve been looking forward to this date all week. I’ve also been nervous as fuck all week.“Uh—”
“Shut up, Olls. You’re gonna give the kid a freaking heart attack,” Van says, standing up and walking over to me. He loosens my tie, then slips it out of my collar. “Ditch this,” he says, tossing it in a corner of the living room. It lands behind the mess of bags and skates that are piled up like a mountain. I make a mental note to rescue my tie later—I only brought three along with me to school, and Coach insists we wear suits on game days. Van pops one of the buttons on my shirt, and I’ve gotta admit, that lets me breathe a little easier. He steps back, then tousles my hair, and steps back again.
“Ties aren’t required at The Gatehouse,” he tells me. “One of my cousins worked there for a couple years. It’s one of the nicest restaurants in town, but they’ll let you in without a tie, and you looked like the damn thing was strangling you.”
“It kinda was,” I admit, looking in the mirror to try and smooth down my cowlick. I had it all tamed until Van messed with it. And even though I bitch about the fact that there’s an entire bathroom inside our living room, I’ve gotta admit the mirror comes in handy.
Van steps behind me and messes my hair up again. I cast a murderous glance in his direction, as Santos says, “Dude, it took him two solid minutes to tame that hair, and you just fucked it up again. Give the poor guy a break.”
“Oh, and you’re an expert on hair, Chewbacca?” Van tosses back.
Santos just laughs and strokes his beard. “Uh, kinda.”
“And I liked the tie,” Ollie says. “It looked classy.”
Van rolls his eyes and turns back to me. “Don’t listen to these fools,” he tells me. “You can’t take fashion advice from them. Not a damn one of them has had more than a hookup in months.”
Norris flips his middle fingers up. “Fuck you very much, yes I have.”
We all turn in surprise. Norris is a hell of a goalie, and he’s a good housemate, but he’s also a man of few words. And none of his words have ever beengirlfriend.
“Who the hell are you dating?” Ollie asks, curious.
