I stand in front of my closet hyperventilating. I knew three days ago I had nothing to wear on this date, but I pushed that issue aside, and figured it would somehow all magically work out on Friday. Well, it’s Friday, and I still have nothing to wear on a date with a sexy, mature adult like Lucky.

I grab my phone and hit dial as the panic rises inside me.

“Hey man, what’s up?” Troy asks happily when he answers.

“What’s up? You pushed me to date, and now I’m having a meltdown, that’s what’s up.”

“You have a date?” Troy, of course, completely misses the point of my call. “With Heart?”

“No, not with Heart,” I huff.

“Oh, I thought you guys were hooking up now.”

“We are, but he’s not who my date is with. Can we please focus on the problem?”

“You’re hooking up with Heart and dating someone else?” Troy verifies, and I cringe a little at how…slutty that sounds. “Way to go Mase! Damn, I didn’t think you had it in you to play the field like that. I’m honestly proud.”

“Great, thank you, bro hugs all around. But I have a huge problem.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I don’t have anything to wear. Lucky is like a real adult. I’m sure he’s going to take me somewhere nice, and all I have to wear is graphic tees. I’m going to look like a child.”

“Breathe, I’ve got you covered,” he reassures me in a soothing voice. “What time is your date?”

“Six.”

“Plenty of time. Hang tight, I’ve got help on the way.”

“Thank you, seriously so much.”

“No problem. I expect all the juicy details tomorrow by the way. Oh, dude, if you’re dating two guys you should totally try to negotiate a three-way.”

“Oh my god, I can’t even handle pleasing one guy in bed, no way in hell am I going to try for two,” I mutter, ignoring the spike of heat that goes through me at the image of Heart and Lucky both naked and hard, kissing me, touching me, wanting me.

Troy chuckles. “Try to relax and have a good time. Dating should be fun, and if this guy says one damn thing to you the way Brad used to, I’m going to lay him out.”

“Got it, thanks,” I say with a smile before hanging up. I don’t know how I got lucky enough to have Troy as a best friend, but he kind of makes up for having such a shitty first boyfriend.

Half an hour later, my door buzzer goes off, and I rush to let up Troy or whoever he sent over to help me. I open the door and wait, feeling completely idiotic for needing help picking out clothes for a date. I’m surprised when Pixie comes into view with his arms full of bags.

I haven’t gotten to know Pixie well, but his sweet smile puts me instantly at ease the way most people fail to do. He has something shimmery on his cheeks and his eyelids sparkle in the hallway lights. Even weighed down with bags, he’s somehow graceful in his movements as he approaches.

“Fashion help has arrived,” he declares when he reaches my door. I bite my lip as I take in the rest of Pixie’s outfit—tight, low rise jeans that may or may not have come from the women’s section and a tank top with some sort of bedazzling on the front.

“Um, I’m not sure…”

“Oh hush, I’m not going to dress you like me. It takes an expert to pull this off.” He flails one of his bag laden arms. “We need to get to work; we’re short on time.”

“We have two hours still,” I say, stepping back to let Pixie in.

“I know, I really wish I’d known sooner. But the show must go on.” He drops the bags next to the couch and then turns around and looks at me with a critical gaze. “Do you know where he’s taking you?”

“No, just a restaurant. But he’s mature and really adult, so I need to look nice.”

“Sexy, adult outfit coming right up,” he declares, rummaging through the bags and pulling out numerous items to toss on the couch. “Strip down to your underwear for me?”

I gape at him. He wants me to get practically naked right here in broad daylight? Scrawny body and all?

“I…uh…”

“I really don’t care what you look like naked. I see naked men all day, every day. Plus, you’re not my type, no matter what you look like under your clothes, so there’s nothing to feel weird about.”

That calms my nerves a little so I make quick work of my clothes before I can overthink it any more. He’s right, this isn’t sexual so there’s no reason to feel weird about it.

“What’s your type?” I ask out of curiosity as he ponders the clothes he brought.

Pixie stops sorting and shoots me a wicked smile over his shoulder. “You really want to know?” he asks, and I shrug and then nod. “Daddies.”

“Daddies?” I ask, certain I heard him wrong.

“Oh yeah. There’s nothing like a big, broad, hairy man with just a bit of gray in his hair. A man who can be gentle or rough when the moment calls for it. A man who has his shit together and wants to take care of his boy.”

His voice is wistful, and for a moment, I can imagine the appeal in that sort of thing, even if I know that certainly isn’t for me.

Pixie sighs as he trails off and returns to sifting through the clothes while I stand in the living room in nothing but my red briefs and a pair of socks. He turns around, and his eyes fall to my underwear.

“Oh no, you can’t wear those,” Pixie declares, setting down the clothes he has in his hands and returning to the bags. “Here, take these.”

A pair of black underwear come flying at me from over his shoulder. I catch them and hold them up to examine.

“How are these different than what I’m wearing?”

“They’re Andrew Christians.”

“Why would I want to wear someone else’s underwear?” I ask, having no idea who Andrew Whoever is anyway.

Pixie giggles at me and picks up the rest of the clothes he’s chosen. “Oh sweetie, I don’t even have time to explain how adorably clueless that was. Those are fresh underwear, never worn by anyone. Put them on, and then get dressed in the rest of these.”

He hands me the clothes and then turns around so I can change. The outfit he picked is simple and perfect—a pair of nice jeans and a light blue polo.

“Can I turn around yet?” he asks anxiously.

“Yeah.”

His smile widens as he takes in my new look. He fiddles with the collar and straightens the hem, taking me back to when I was six, and my mom would drag me clothes shopping, always asking awkward questions about if the crotch was too tight. If I’d known then that she’d be dead by the next year, I probably wouldn’t have kicked up as much of a fit.  

“Perfect. You should wear more clothes like this; you look amazing.”

“Thank you. Where’d you get all these clothes anyway?” I ask, realizing for the first time the sheer number of things he brought with him.

“I know someone who owns a boutique not far from here. She let me borrow these, but you have to promise not to sweat too much or spill anything on them.”

“Oh shit, can I just pay for them so I don’t have to stress about ruining them?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll return the rest of this stuff and get back to you with the cost of this outfit,” Pixie agrees.

“Thanks for helping me. You’ve got an eye for fashion.”

He lights up at that, still fiddling with the top button on the polo, trying to decide if I should leave it open or not. “Don’t tell anyone, but I really want to go into fashion design.”

“You’ll be great at that.”

“Thanks. If I can ever afford to go to school, I guess.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

After returning the rest of the clothes to the bags, he gives me a kiss on the cheek and leaves me with a promise to let me know how much I owe for the clothes.