“I do. I’m sorry but I made plans and I’m not breaking them.”
“Is it a girl?” Kevin asks in disgust.
“Yes it is a girl,” I tell him. “We’re having a cootie convention.”
“Seriously son, tell the girl you’ll…woo her some other day.”
“She’s not like that. I mean…I’m not wooing her. I’m trying to woo her. But not in the way you think…I…”
The lines in my father’s forehead deepen as he stares at me. “Are you saying you have a girlfriend? Is it serious?”
Well I certainly can’t tell them about the project because I’d be disowned in a second. Knowing my dad, he’d probably boot me out of his will, let the bank repossess the store and send me back to England. I represent everything he thinks made him fail.
“It’s not serious and she’s not a girlfriend. She’s a friend and maybe I want something more.”
At least that’s partially honest.
His eyes rake over me, not really believing it.
So I look to Kevin. “Honest. It’s true. You know I wouldn’t say no for just anybody.”
Kevin, such a trooper, nods, even though it’s obvious I’ve decimated his heart. “It’s okay. I understand.”
Shit. Now I feel like a right wanker.
“Look,” I say to him, pasting a smile on my face. “A little birdie told me all about LARPing. What if I take you to one of the all-day events they have at Beacon Hill?”
My dad groans. I ignore him.
“Are you serious?” Kevin asks, his face lighting up like the fourth of July. “Will you dress up?”
“Of course.”
“Will you bring your girlfriend?”
I tilt my head. “Um, probably not.”
“I want to see you with your girlfriend.”
I study him closely. Is it possible he actually doesn’t believe me and wants proof? Am I that untrustworthy?
Well, Amanda is a giant nerd, she’d probably be thrilled. Maybe not about the fake girlfriend part but the whole costumes and casting spells and pretending you’re an Elf Necromancer named Whren the White, with ivory tits the size of hippos, who may wear nothing else under her corset. Hmmm. I may have looked up some LARPing porn while I was researching.
With a reassuring smile I say, “Sure. I’ll bring my girlfriend. You just look into when it is and we’ll make a plan. Okay? I promise.”
Even though Kevin leaves happy, I leave the shop feeling seriously deflated. I hop in Mr. Mean and drive straight to Amanda’s house, texting her when I’m outside.
She texts back: You’re early! Hey, Ana is out for the night on a date if you wanted to come in.
Amanda is seriously inviting me in? I know she’s talking about it from a work perspective but even so, my cock twitches in my pants.
“Oh behave,” I hiss at it as I get out of the car and stroll down the driveway to her basement suite.
She opens the door looking absolutely fresh-faced, her hair damp and pulled back into a low braid, like she’d just stepped out of the shower.
“Hi,” she says, smiling broadly as if she’s truly happy to see me.
Her smile creates a reflex in me, like yawning, and I’m grinning back at her. In fact, I think a few heady seconds swing past with us just standing in the doorway, staring at each other and smiling like dorks.
She breaks away first and clears her throat. “Come on in,” she opens the door wider and gestures widely with her arms. “Your first real time at mi casa.”
“You know sometimes I miss having a roommate,” I muse as I step inside. The basement suite is pretty bright considering and the walls are done up in yellow and lavender, a total chick pad. I’d been here briefly before but now I have a chance to take in everything. The living room and kitchen are pretty typical, though the place looks a lot neater than I would have imagined.
“She’s entertaining, that’s for sure,” Amanda says, heading for the fridge and looking inside. “I feel like I should offer you something but all we have is orange juice and Estonian vodka.”
“Maybe later,” I say. “Show me your room.”
A bashful smile curves on her lips. “This feels so high school.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t try and finger bang you while listening to Maroon Five.”
“Such a romantic,” she mutters dryly, heading for her door.
“That’s your job,” I remind her, following right behind.
Amanda’s room is exactly how I imagined it. And yes, I’ve imagined it. I’ve imagined it with the both of us in it in a hundred different positions. My favorite happens to be when she takes out a Harry Potter scarf and lets me use it as a blindfold before I plunge Draco Malfoy’s wand inside her.
There’s a Ravenclaw crest on one wall and though I don’t see any sign of a wand, she does have a plaque about Muggles hanging above her bed. On her bedside table there’s a TARDIS alarm clock and a giant Loki figurine made up in Tom Hiddleston’s likeness. There’s also a giant framed map of Middle Earth that must have cost a fortune, as well as what appears to be signed photos of the cast of Firefly, Sherlock (with my nemesis Benedict Cumberbatch), and one of George R. R. Martin.
“Ummm,” I say, pointing at the photos before getting a closer look. “How did you manage to get these signed?”
She shrugs. “Ebay.” Her eyes cast downward and she smiles shyly. “So now you know how big of a dork I am.”