Chapter Six
“Quit texting like a chick and shoot,” Tony ordered, waving his cue at Will. After he’d dropped Elizabeth at her car, he’d met back up with Tony to shoot some pool at a dive bar.
Will lined up his shot but couldn’t keep the goofy grin off his face. She’d invited him over. The balls made a satisfying thwack as the nine-ball sank into the corner pocket, exactly as he’d planned.
“Luck,” Tony said.
“Skill.” Will attempted to bank his next shot but missed.
“Now watch and learn,” Tony said. “See how a real man gets it done.” Tony leaned forward to take his shot.
“Careful, don’t want to rip your boy’s medium.” What Tony lacked in height, he made up in muscle and was a big believer in no such thing as too tight a T-shirt. His Mr. December picture had helped move more than a few copies of the calendar. Had Elizabeth checked out Tony’s picture, too?
“Don’t hate just because you’re jealous of my gains, Picasso,” Tony said.
Will gripped his stick tighter. He was jealous, but not of Tony’s muscles—he had his own. The last woman he’d slept with, the one who’d called him Bill, he’d seen the following week hanging on Tony’s arm. If he slept with Elizabeth, would he have to see her with Tony next?
“Picasso was a Cubist,” he managed to say in a normal voice even while his guts were churning. “I’m more of a naturalist, although my style is still changing.” He reminded himself that Elizabeth had been friendly to Tony but hadn’t seemed overly interested.
“Whatever.” Tony shrugged. “You’re good. When you going to do something with that?”
“It’s just something I mess around with. I’m not a real artist,” he said. Just like he wasn’t a jealous guy. Elizabeth wasn’t his girlfriend and she had the right to sleep with whoever she wanted to. It just sucked that Will wanted her to want only him. But that was his problem.
He leaned over to take another shot, but Tony had left him with nothing.
“So you’re really not going coming with me to meet cheerleaders tomorrow?” Tony asked. “I need a wingman. Don’t make me take Fat Al.”
“Fat Al isn’t that fat anymore. He’s been running and passing on the cannoli.” It was hard working in the neighborhood with the highest concentration of Italian bakeries and restaurants in the city. Some of the guys at the firehouse weren’t year-round calendar-ready as a result. “Besides, I’ve got plans for tomorrow.”
“Elizabeth? Date or hookup?”
She’d texted him. That was a date, right? Admiral Akbar from Star Wars—a movie he’d seen way too many times thanks to his brother’s obsession with it, at least until Will got big enough to wrestle away the remote control—sounded in his head. And Admiral Akbar wasn’t wrong. It had to be a trap. If Will went over to her place and did what his body was dying to do, she’d slot him in as a hookup guy instead of someone to be taken seriously. He was tired of being that guy. But if he passed, then she’d be offended and move on.
That could only mean that it was actually a Kobayashi Maru—a no-win scenario. But James Kirk had triumphed over the Kobayashi Maru by showing the way to win was not to play. So, Will should go over to her place, but keep his dick holstered. Somehow he’d flip this and turn it into a date.
“I like her,” he said to Tony. He leaned on his pool cue.
“You’re such a woman,” Tony said, like that was an insult. Will really needed to get some new friends.
“At least I don’t need a booster seat,” he said, going for the easy points.
“The ladies don’t mind because I’ve got height where it counts.” Tony made a “boom” gesture, slamming his hands toward his crotch. “I’m talking about my dick. It’s big.”
Yeah, Will wasn’t going to use Tony as a sounding board for his Elizabeth dilemma. “You’re paying for my beer for making me think about your dick. And if you make a homophobic joke, you’re also buying the next one.”
It wasn’t until he got home that it hit him. Will needed to talk to Danny, his brother’s partner and friend, who, over the past year, had become Will’s friend, too. Somehow Danny had landed a girlfriend who hadn’t just been opposed to a relationship, but who’d actively disliked him. That guy was a fucking magician to have pulled that off.
Will kicked off his shoes and sat down on his old sofa, making sure to avoid the spot where the springs were coming up. It was a hand-me-down that had moved through several cousins before coming to him. The rest of his apartment was a similar mishmash of junk. He didn’t even have a set of matching plates. He’d be turning twenty-nine next month. Maybe it was time he started living like an adult. Before it hadn’t mattered because he spent half his time at the firehouse anyway. But now he’d like to have a place where Elizabeth would like to spend time.
He picked up his phone and checked the time. It was only nine o’clock, not too late to call Danny. No more texts. He was over this texting shit. In fact, next time Elizabeth texted him, he was going to call her back instead.
Danny answered just as Will was ready to leave a voice mail. “What’s up?”
“How’d you land Erin?”
“Odd thing to lead with. And they say I have no social graces.”
How did Will say “there’s someone I want to be my girlfriend” without sounding like a middle schooler? Prior to the whole calendar debacle, he’d had relationships. It’d been easy. A little flirting, a few jokes, go to dinner, then bam!—you’re a couple. Never even had to try. He didn’t even know how to try.
He rubbed a hand over his face and then spoke the mortifying words. “There’s this woman.”
“She like you?”
Did Elizabeth like him? She’d invited him over; that had to mean something. “Yeah.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“She wants to have sex with me.”
Danny was usually Captain Grim, so hearing him laugh was surprising. When he stopped, he said in a choked voice, “That’s usually not a problem.”
In the background, Will heard a woman’s voice speaking and then the phone changed hands. “You’re getting advice from the wrong person,” Erin said.
“So how did Danny win you over?”
“Cake. Cake and unbelievable sex.”
“Then I should sleep with her even though she doesn’t want a relationship?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Are you going to feel like you deserve a relationship if she sleeps with you? In other words, if you have sex and she loses your number, are you going to be a total dickbag?”
“I’m not a dickbag,” he said with indignation.
Erin’s voice softened. “Then be up front. Don’t try to backdoor your way into her heart. And if you actually want to be with her, put a little effort in. We all like you, Will, but you’ve got to admit that you just let things happen.”
“I’m easygoing.”
“There’s easygoing and then there’s afraid to try. Just think about it. Here’s Danny.”
Danny’s voice came back on the line. “Food. What’s your go-to recipe?”
This was what Will needed, concrete advice, not armchair psychoanalysis. “I can make scrambled eggs.”
“Not going to get it done. When are you seeing her?”
“Tomorrow. I’m going over to her place.”
“Tell her you’re bringing dinner. Come over tomorrow and we’ll whip up something for you to bring.” Erin’s muffled voice sounded in the background. “And a chocolate hazelnut torte,” Danny added. “It’s a closer.”