House of Boys

Part 8

It wasn't long before the day of your date rolled around. Shawn warmed up to you a little bit by Wednesday, but soon realized that Friday was approaching and no longer acknowledged you. You were getting ready to go on this date with Brian's friend, Steve, and you couldn't stop thinking about how badly you wanted to just stay home and fix things with Shawn.

You wore a little black dress with a long cardigan and slipped on some heels, touching up your lipgloss and tousling your loose curls. Spritzing yourself with your favourite perfume, you heard a little knock on the open bathroom door.

You turned your head, laying your eyes on a very tired-looking Shawn in the doorway.

"Hey," you said, placing your perfume bottle on the counter and turning to face him. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked around the room.

"Wow, you look gorgeous. Fuck, you're really going on that date, huh..." he stated more than asked, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck.

"Well, yeah, I promised Brian I would. It doesn't mean I want to, though," you said, taking a step toward him and reaching for his hand. He pulled it away at first, but then reached for your hips and pulled you into a hug, closing his eyes and exhaling heavily, finally relaxing being tangled up in you.

Your hands reached around him, rubbing the back of his shirt as you enjoyed the feeling of his strong frame wrapped around yours.

He soon pulled back, opening his eyes and inspecting your face. You tilted your head up to look at him, and he eyed your lips as his tongue snaked out to wet his. Slowly leaning in and closing his eyes, his lips ghosted over yours as you heard the doorbell ring.

"Great," he whispered, peeling himself off of you and leading you downstairs, where your date waited at the front door.

Out of nowhere, Shawn pulled you aside and had a tight grip on your arm. His face went pale.

"What the fuck, Sha-"

"I know this guy. He's dangerous, really, really dangerous. You don't get it, he's not a good guy. He's gonna try some shit with you-"

"Shawn, it's gonna be fine, I promise. I got it," you reassured, embarrassed you were keeping Steve waiting.

"No, pleas-" Shawn fought.

"Shawn, I'm fine!" you insisted, walking over to the door to grab your jacket.

Slipping your purse over your shoulder, you introduced yourself to Steve and he did the same, all while Shawn was forced to watch, eyes dark and angry.

Steve grabbed your hand to lead you outside and you closed the door, swearing you heard the sound of a fist hitting the wall inside.

Dinner was actually going incredibly well. Steve was handsome, charming, and funny, and he was upfront about his feelings, unlike Shawn, who portrayed his feelings as anger for months and then still couldn't keep his mindset straight. You were tired of all this beating around the bush, tired of flip-flopping with Shawn. It was time for you to start a relationship with someone stable, someone who knows what they want and isn't afraid to go get it. Unfortunately, maybe that person wasn't Shawn.

Steve's fingers reached across the table for yours and you didn't mind one bit. Holding his hand, you started to tune out what he was saying as your eyes scanned the room.

No way. No fucking way. No. Sitting at the bar, you could see a familiar head of brown curls facing away from you. Staring, you waiting for him to turn his head. Whiskey ginger in hand, the mystery man craned his neck, eyes trained on you, quickly looking away when he noticed you staring. That fucker.