25 - chivalry: alive and well

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It turned out Dallas went to the store while I was sleeping the next morning and got lube and condoms and evidently a surprise for later.

His eagerness was attractive and I couldn't wait to let him devour me. However, he also insisted we go to dinner. A date, he said. It wasn't the first time he said we were going on a date, but this time he meant it. I only agreed on the terms that we could get crab legs.

"So you wanna make my pockets hurt, huh?"

I smiled. "Never said you had to pay. We can split the bill. Or I'll pay," I said while we drank coffees in our room. "It doesn't matter to me."

Dallas scoffed, tangling our legs in front of us. "As if I'm gonna let you pay," he said. "Not after what you did with your mouth last night."

For the love of God. I just sipped my coffee, feeling flattered by his enthusiasm. He was on his laptop again, working on some essay for school. I tried looking over his shoulder at what he was typing but it looked like it was in another language with all the big words and technical terms. I was humbly reminded why I dropped out of college.

I finished my coffee and went on to update my journal on the chaos that's ensued in the past two days. My mind wandered, of course. "So do I have to dress nice for our date?" I asked.

"I am," he said.

"I didn't really pack anything fancy," I said. "What do you have planned?"

Dallas gave me an amused glance. "Dress shirt and Chino's," he said. I pressed my lips together, knowing damn well I didn't have a dress shirt in my pile of clothes. "You don't have to, Thomas. You'll look good in anything."

I huffed and excused myself. Well, I wasn't going to be the underdressed loser out on the town with the finest piece of meat in Clearwater. So I set off to ask the boys if they had anything they could lend me.

Erick was bigger than me in every way, so I didn't even bother asking him. Chris actually packed a dress shirt but apparently Jeremiah spilled orange juice on it the other day and he hadn't gotten around to cleaning it yet. Carlos, like me, packed nothing but casual wear. Much too many Hawaiian shirts, if you ask me.

I was about to head to Caitlyn's room to ask her husband Ben if he might have one when Ashton stopped me in the hall. "I'd bet Frasier has a shirt he can lend you," she said excitedly. I bit down on my tongue.

"That's okay. I'll just figure something out–"

"Shut up and come on!" she said. If that wasn't bad enough, she grabbed my hand and tugged me in the direction of their room. I was going to throw up.

Why was she so nice? Overbearing, sure. A little bit of a groupie? Yes. Loud and pushy to the point of making me want to scream, absolutely. But she was really nice. I wish she knew how naive she was.

I lingered anxiously in the doorway. Frasier was lounging shirtless on their bed when I got there, but he sat up confused upon seeing me. Ashton quickly explained the situation and I glared at him, wishing he would do something to put an end to it. He tried to object, "Babe, I don't really think I have anything for him," but she was persistent.

She held up a forest green button down and looked at me, then Frasier. He looked thoroughly annoyed.

"Uh, what size is it?" I asked awkwardly.

Ashton looked at the tag. "Medium."

"That might be too big. It's fine, I'll just–"

"Come on, try it on!"

I sighed, eyes flickering to Frasier. I didn't want to try it on in front of him. This was so out of hand. I took the shirt from Ashton and pulled my own over my head. I didn't dare even look at Frasier while I slid the shirt on over my arms, buttoning a few buttons.

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