Letting Him In | BWWM

Chapter 4

Jonah Bailey's POV

              I had roughly ten minutes before I needed to be downstairs. Sighing I closed my laptop and pushed myself out the office chair, making my way to my closet.

"Hey, Jonas," Tim knocked all while he walks in and flops onto the sofa.

I shook my head. "I hate when you call me that."

"That's why I continue to say it." He grins smugly, I roll my eyes. "Are you getting ready to go somewhere?"

I pull the white t-shirt from over my head and swap it out with a black polo shirt. I shrug.

"Just downstairs."

Tim squints his eyes at me. Ignoring him I continue placing on my shoes. Tim has known me since birth, he's basically the brother that I never asked for. Although after high school we went our separate ways, him staying and attending college in Canada while I came to the U.S and went to University of Michigan, our friendship remained the same. I always knew I could trust him with my life and that he would eventually be my business partner.

However, after college Tim and I were in two separate places in life. With me being a fool in love and getting married at 22, I chased my wife across the country for three years—completely ignoring my future responsibilities. It wasn't until last year while I was going through the divorce did I go home for a bit and embellished in the single life with Tim, the notorious playboy hisself.

I enjoyed the life of endless hookups, and traveling nonstop until my father and sister basically forced me into the business world. They gave me a year to have my fun and now it's down to business. Which let Tim tell it, I dragged him into this while he was kicking and screaming.

"Did you finish going over the floor plans and blueprints?" He quizzed.

I nod while sliding on my Dior belt. "I didn't like any of them."

He groans and throw his head back.

"You're seriously killing me, man. This is the third batch and you still don't like any? I tell you what when your sister and old man gets here I'm not dealing with their fussing." He huffs.

"Relax. I'll talk to them." I mumble running my hands throw my hair. Its time for a haircut. "The only fussing you're putting up with is your own."

"Did you at least choose a location?"

I bit my lip. "No."

He scoffs and runs his hands through his brown hair, a clear sign of his annoyance. I wanted to laugh because usually the roles are reversed. I'm typically the one forcing Tim to get serious while he stresses about girls.

"What about what your uncle asked us to do, any news?" He asks rubbing his goatee.

"Yes." I respond which gains his attention as he sits up.

"Well?"

"I don't think its Tula."

He pauses for a moment and I almost thinks he doesn't hear me until his burst out laughing.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Well no shit, Sherlock I figured that out weeks ago." He ran his hand down his face. "Ugh I need a drink."

I chuckle, taking a peak at the clock. 5:05 p.m–perfect.

"Let's go down to the bar then."

He stands up and block my view to the door. I furrow my eyebrows as he glares at me.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing." He retorts.

I sigh. "What am I doing, Tim?"

"You're stalking that girl that works the night shift!" He blurts. "You've been staring at her since we got here and every night you make it a point to go downstairs into the lobby when you knows she's coming in. You're Joe, bro and this is You."