The Blind Date

by Landish, Lauren

  I shake out the blanket as I try to figure out the least embarrassing way to get this thing to go around my body. With a little bit of fiddling and a failed attempt that requires a restart, I’m soon clad from nipple to knee in a yellow toga, which is about as good as it’s going to get.

  Now, if I can just remember where the hell my underwear ended up last night. I think maybe they’re still with my pants, which if I remember right, I kicked off when Riley and I switched positions on the couch . . .

  Ah, hell. This is not going to be easy.

  There’s no screaming when I press my ear to the door, so maybe Arielle’s already left. In which case she’s probably already called River, so I’ve got about a ten-minute head start to get dressed and maybe get to the sporting goods store a half-mile down the road so I can get a mouthpiece before he tries to kill me.

  Dental hygiene is important to me.

  I chuckle again, knowing that the hilarity is a symptom of my nerves, so I take a deep breath before opening the door. I walk down the short hallway, expecting to find one of three things. Either Arielle and Riley are glaring at each other, one of them is standing over the other’s bloody body, or there’s a silently crying Riley, ready to blame me for fucking up her life.

  Instead, the first sound I hear is Raffy running toward me, and then . . .

  “Well, now, he does dress up nicely, I guess,” Arielle says sharply.

  Okay, they’re both alive, there are no tears, and they’re looking at . . . me. Which must mean I’m the dead man walking.

  I stop, looking at Arielle and Riley sitting together at her small kitchen table. Riley’s wearing a fluffy bathrobe, white with yellow suns on it, that actually looks pretty damn adorable on her, while Arielle looks furious, stirring a cup of coffee as though she’s calculating whether the living room rug will roll around my dead body twice or three times.

  “I . . . uh . . . fuck.”

  “Yeah, Riley was telling me that’s pretty much what you two did last night,” Arielle snaps, getting up and coming over to poke me in the chest. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Wait.

  So she kept her cool the entire time with Riley, adding cream and sugar to a fresh cup of coffee like they were just catching up on the gossip, only to blow up at me the second she lays eyes on me?

  “Arielle, I don’t think —”

  “No, you don’t.”

  Raffy decides now’s the time to jump in on this argument, yipping and barking at my shins. I look to Riley for help, but she lifts an eyebrow, her eyes wide and lips pressed together. Maybe she’s getting a kick out of how ridiculous I look getting cussed out by my baby sister and her fluffy cockblocker while wearing a makeshift blanket toga.

  Not that Arielle’s backing down. “Noah, I know you’re not perfect, but I never dreamed you’d be the type to . . . what do you even call this?” she bites out, waving her hands around menacingly. “Sport-fuck my best friend?”

  That gets to me, and I bend down to get right back in my sister’s face. “I’m not here for that!” I growl, staring her down because there is zero chance that I’m going to let Riley hear that shit. Especially since it’s completely untrue. “We’re not fucking. We’re dating.”

  Arielle freezes, looking back and forth, her finger pointing along with her eyes. “Wait, are you saying you two are . . . dating? For real?”

  “That’s literally what I said,” I tell Arielle again, hoping it sinks in this time and she doesn’t keep spouting off insulting shit.

  Riley gets up, and the small shrug she gives to Arielle as she comes to my side is like a punch in the gut. I want her to be proud to be with me, but I get that she’s nervous.

  But I can be proud enough for the both of us.

  I pull Riley to my side, placing my hand on her hip possessively, and kiss the top of her head. And then I glare at Arielle, daring her to say one ugly word.

  Riley is finding her strength. Not that she ever lost it, but this morning’s been weird. I mean, we’re standing here half-naked in bed linens with my sister, explaining ourselves, so I can give Riley some slack on needing a second to catch up.

  “Yes. For real. He’s Mr. Ninety-Six Percent,” Riley tells Arielle. “We started talking, not realizing who we were talking to.”

  Arielle thinks for a moment, then grins, looking at me with newfound realization. “Noah Mark Daniels . . .”

  “Yeah, was trying to do QA-QC for the app, so I signed up. I didn’t . . . well, I didn’t expect to meet anyone. Let alone Riley.”

  “I so need the full story on this,” Arielle says, “because I was there that first night. And I remember seeing the way your eyes lit up reading about this hottie named Mark. When you didn’t say too much about it afterward, I figured you’d dropped him. But now . . . I’m not walking out the door until I get the details.”

  “Can it wait until I get my clothes back on?” I ask, gesturing to my toga. “This is not my best look.”

  “No, I think this is something I should’ve known a long time ago,” Arielle says, and I can hear the faintest sense of hurt blooming from our keeping this from her.

  “Arielle, I’m commando under here.”

  Raffy looks up and barks. “Rowf!”

  I cup my cock through the blanket, not trusting it to be enough if Raffy decides he’s hungry. And he’s always hungry. “Can one of you feed the dog too? I don’t trust him not to bite my ass or other important parts.”

  Riley rubs at the exposed part of my chest. “I like your important parts.”

  “Gag!” Arielle interrupts loudly, drawing our attention to ask again, “So this is for real?”

  “Yeah,” I tell Arielle, but I’m looking into Riley’s eyes. “It’s real.”

  * * *

  “Well, I still can’t believe it,” Arielle says a half-hour later as we sit around the kitchen table. At least we’re all dressed now. “I mean, Noah . . . charming? Funny? You sure you didn’t hire a social media manager, Bro?”

  I take a sip of coffee, trying not to glare. “I am charming and funny.”

  There’s a moment of utter stillness and then Arielle laughs. “Now that’s funny.”

  But she’s putting the pieces together. “So you messaged Mark that night, and you’ve been talking ever since? Dating and going out?”

  “About that—” I start, thinking now is the perfect time to ask Arielle about her own dating escapades. She’s giving me a hard time, but she’s no saint either. Though she’s not dating my best friend. Or at least I hope she’s not.

  Riley cuts me off, giving me a subtle head shake. “Yes, it’s been a few weeks now."

  Okay, I guess this isn’t the time to ask about Arielle and Eli. But that time will come. Soon.

  “Why didn’t you say something?” Arielle asks.

  “I wasn’t sure how you’d take it,” Riley admits from the stove, where she’s scrambling some eggs. “I mean, guys have bros before hos, and we . . . you know.”

  “Chicks before dicks,” Arielle finishes for Riley. “But that’s only if it’s casual, fuck-buddy shit. Not this.”

  “Sorry,” Riley tells Arielle, and Arielle nods, accepting it. Arielle turns to me, and I offer a chin dip. That’s all I’m giving because I’m not sorry. None of this went to plan, but I wouldn’t change a thing. Arielle’s left brow goes up, and she holds my gaze for a solid three seconds, but finally, she dips her chin too.

  We’re good.

  Arielle knows everything.

  “When did you start growing out your landing strip again, Riley?” she asks casually, digging into the plate of eggs Riley sets in front of her like she’s talking about the weather.

  “Wait . . . what?” I ask, just shocked. I swear Arielle’s doing it on purpose, trying to keep me off balance and off guard.

  “What, Noah?” Arielle asks with a laugh. “You think I haven’t seen this girl’s tits and vajayjay before? We held each other’s hands the first time we got waxed. Like thi
s, us two.”

  She crosses her fingers, and I suddenly realize how messy this could get. Arielle’s being cool about it right now, but she’s giving me a very clear warning.

  Pussy before peen, is that a thing?

  Even when there’s blood involved?

  "Oh, one more question,” Arielle says around a mouthful of eggs. “When are you going to tell River?” Riley and I are silent, looking at each other uncertainly. Arielle shouts, eggs going everywhere, “Does he already know? Did you tell him before you told me?”

  Riley reaches out to Arielle’s arm. “No, he doesn’t know. God, I wouldn’t tell him before you.”

  Arielle looks to me for confirmation. “I haven’t told him yet,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Shit, you’re gonna get murdered, Bro.” Arielle sounds a little gleeful about that if you ask me. “If you want my advice, tell him. The sooner, the better. And might I suggest with clothes on and not with Riley’s hand on your dick? Personally, I was thankful for that. A little coverage to protect my eyes from seeing your junk. But River? I don’t think he’ll feel quite the same way.”

  “You know, she’s right,” I tell Riley after a moment. “The longer we wait to tell our families about this, the more awkward it’s going to be when they find out.”

  “Exactly,” Arielle says, thumping a fist on the table and grinning. “You know, life will be easier for both of you if you just live by this rule, ‘Arielle’s always right.’”

  “You sure we shouldn’t expand that to the entire world?” Riley deadpans. “Or is that too much?”

  “Nope, not at all,” Arielle says easily. “I’ve already got the folks at the home believing it, and now you two believe it. I’ll be a bonafide cult leader before you know it.” She looks down at Raffy, who’s hovering below the table, hoping for scraps. “What do you think Raffy? Wanna be my mascot?”

  “He’s my dog,” Riley warns.

  Arielle grabs a chunk of scrambled egg from my plate and feeds it to an excited Raffy. “Yeah, but he loves me too.”

  “Hey!” I shout. “Those are mine.”

  “Yeah? Well, she was mine,” Arielle challenges, pointing at Riley.

  I think Arielle wins this argument. But I’m certain I’m winning at life . . . with Riley by my side, pants covering my ass, and a good plate of scrambled eggs.

  Chapter 16

  Riley

  I guess it’s fitting that Noah and I are doing this on a Sunday.

  Sundays are the traditional day for family. Gathered around a table or television, with grills fired up and ovens baking, it’s an important way for connections to be forged, built, and strengthened.

  So I guess we couldn’t have picked a better day than today.

  If that’s true, though, why are my fingers shaking, my heart racing, and my belly feeling like I swallowed too much soda in one go? I’d burp if I could, but I don’t think even a monster belch would help these bubbles in my stomach.

  “How’re you feeling?” Noah asks softly as he comes up behind me. His hands encircle my waist, and I sink back into him, letting his solidness ground me, but I never stop stirring the mashed potatoes on the stove. The butter, salt, pepper, and cream need to blend evenly because Mom’s recipe deserves to be smooth. Never lumpy. Nobody wants lumpy mashed potatoes.

  “Anxious and nervous,” I whisper back, glancing over my shoulder. “You sure about this?”

  This is our big announcement. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, except to one person.

  River.

  My brother is going to have something to say about Noah and me, but it’s time to get everything out in the open. I invited everyone to my place for dinner thinking that crossing that bridge one time is enough. Well, twice, I guess, since we already told Arielle. That hadn’t been the plan, though.

  Speaking of plans . . . and the planner . . .

  Noah nods, cupping my chin. “Damn right, I am. I want everyone to know I’m yours.”

  He’s mine. The words thrill me, and I know that they’re true.

  He lays a gentle kiss to the corner of my mouth and then moves to my ear. Deep and dark, with layers of meaning, he adds, “And I want everyone to know you’re mine.” A shiver goes through me, and I can hear the triumphant grin in his voice when he says, “It’s going to be fine, Riley. Trust me.”

  I do. I trust him and our plan to make this as easy as possible. I leaned on his planning skills as we discussed possible reactions from River and our mothers, and then, I reassured him that it’d all be fine. That they’d be happy for us—surprised, of course, but they’d basically throw a parade for our finding that special someone. Because who wouldn’t be happy for their family member to fall in love?

  Now, though, with the knocks on the door imminent, I’m the uncertain one.

  Not of Noah. Or myself. Or us.

  But of disappointing my mom and brother. We don’t keep things from each other as a rule. We’re open and honest with each other, yet I’ve been hiding something important. Someone important.

  That’s going to hurt them. That’s what I’m nervous about.

  Well, that and I’m meeting Noah’s mom, Natalie, for the first time. Nothing says ‘great first impression’ like springing a surprise relationship on everyone at once, right?

  The knock on the door makes me jump, and Noah spins me in place, meeting my eyes. “Riley, are you sure? We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. We can wait.”

  I put the spoon in the pot so I can cup his cheeks with both hands. “Noah Mark Daniels, I am sure. Of me, of you, and of us. The only thing I’m not sure of is my idiot brother. I love him, but River is not known for his calm, cool head.”

  Noah grins. “It’s a good thing I’ve been dealing with him for years then. We got this. And I’ll get the door.” He kisses my nose, and then he’s gone to answer my door.

  “Raffy, good job. Let me open the door, boy.” I hear Raffy let out one more bark, but he must move because Noah says, “Hey, Sis, good to see you . . . this time.”

  “Can I uncover my eyes now?” Arielle answers. “You got clothes on? I do not want to see your dick and balls again.”

  “Arielle! You said you didn’t see anything! And yes, get in here before the neighbors hear you.”

  There’s a feminine squeal and then a laugh, and I can imagine Noah jerking his sister into the apartment. Little do they know, my neighbors are probably watching out their peepholes and listening through their doors, enjoying the whole show they’re putting on.

  “What can I do to help?” Arielle asks, coming in the kitchen. She sets a bag on the counter and starts unloading. “I brought the cheesecake as instructed. Luckily, Noah didn’t smash it when he pulled me inside.” She yells the last bit, a dig at her brother, as she slides the dessert into the fridge.

  She slips her arm around my shoulder, side hugging me. “How’re you holding up? Come to your senses yet? I’d be happy to kick him in the ass, or balls, or to the curb. You know I’d do anything for you, Riley.”

  I laugh and lean into Arielle. “No, not changing my mind. Just worried about River. I don’t want to blow up their friendship.”

  Arielle points her finger in my face, clucking her tongue. “Listen to my words of wisdom, girl. Sex ruins friendships. Love does not.”

  “You okay?” I ask gently, concerned that she’s no longer talking about Noah and me.

  She waves me off. “Fine. Put me to work.” Her jaw is set as she scans the counter, spying the stack of plates. “I’ll set the table.”

  I lose my chance at finding out more about her and Eli because there’s another knock on the door, followed by Raffy’s bark and Noah’s hushing. Several new voices fill the living room, and I drop the spoon into the finished potatoes to go greet my guests.

  “Hi, Mom, River,” I tell them. “And you must be Ms. Daniels.”

  Natalie Daniels is smaller than I imagined. After hearing about her from Noah and knowing Arielle’s big personal
ity, I guess I expected her to be larger than life somehow, but she stands at Noah’s side, the top of her head even with his chest. Her eyes are just as dark and intelligent, though, and her deep brunette hair is cut in a crisp bob.

  “You must be Riley,” she says, shaking my hand. “Please, call me Natalie.”

  I make introductions around, mother to mother and River to Natalie. Noah hugs his mom, and I can see the love and closeness between them.

  “Mrs. Watson, it’s been a long time. Good to see you again,” Noah tells my mom.

  She’s having none of that. She wraps him in a hug. “It’s been entirely too long, and stop that nonsense and call me Rachel. You help me keep River out of trouble, so you and I are a team.” Mom points from Noah to herself before throwing River a side-eye of shade, but the grin she’s fighting says it’s all in jest.

  “Of course, Rachel,” Noah answers, cutting his eyes my way at the name. I fight the laugh that tries to bubble up. We both know if things go the way my mother’s going to anticipate, ‘Rachel’ is going to be quickly replaced with ‘Mom’. Although thinking about it, that’s not a bad thing.

  “Please, have a seat and let me get everyone a glass of wine.” That’s what we need . . . alcohol to relax everyone before we drop the bomb.

  “On it,” Noah says. He grabs the wine bottle from the kitchen counter and opens the cabinet to take out glasses.

  Mom follows us into the kitchen. “If we’d been meeting next week, I would’ve had tomatoes to bring you, honey. I’ve got a handful of them that are almost ripe.”

  “I’ll come by and get them whenever they’re ready. Can you pull the biscuits out, please?”

  I’ve always appreciated the cooking skills my mother taught me growing up. I’ve put them to good use since I got my own apartment. I might not make fancy stuff, no escargot or lobster, but good food is always good. And if some basic roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and biscuits make people happy, then I’m happy to make it.