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As they pull up to the restaurant, the sinking feeling in Oliver’s stomach that he’s been trying to ignore all day, returns tenfold.
“I can’t believe you talked me into this.”
Connor puts the car in park and turns off the engine. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just a double date.”
Oliver snorts out a bitter laugh. Yeah, because being the wingman to the guy you’re actually in love with sounds like such a great time.
Connor turns his head so that his side-eye glance turns into full on staring. “What?”
“I can’t do it,” Oliver says. “I’m sorry. I thought I could. I really did. And I tried because I value our friendship. But I just… can’t. It’s too weird.”
Connor’s mouth opens a little, but he doesn’t say anything. He blinks and though he’s still looking in Oliver’s face, his focus is anywhere but.
“I want to go home,” Oliver says. He always gives Connor whatever he wants. He can’t help it. He likes Connor happy. But this…? He has to protect himself. It’d be too cruel.
For a moment, Connor doesn’t move. His expression holds somewhere between surprised and uncertain. But then he nods, and his face falls. Oliver only sees the hurt for a moment before Connor turns away.
“Okay,” he says and restarts the car.
Oliver bites his lip. “We can still be friends, right?”
“Yeah, sure.” Connor reaches for his phone. “Let me just call them and tell them we aren’t coming. Then I’ll take you home, alright?”
At Oliver’s nod, Connor scrolls through his phone and presses call. He brings the phone to his ear.
“Hey, yeah,” he says. His voice starts strong but wavers. How much did he like this guy to be so upset? “No, I’m fine. It’s fine. I’ll call you later.”
Oliver grips his seat-belt, needing something to hold onto. Did he really mess this up for Connor?
Connor looks at Oliver then turns his whole body away. He lowers his voice to a whisper, but Oliver still hears as he says, “He just broke up with me, okay? I’m sorry.”
Wait. “Who just broke up with you?” Oliver asks. That’s not what friends do.
Connor sends a quick glance to Oliver before dropping his gaze to the center console. “Later, okay?” he says and hangs up.
Oliver loosens his hold on the seatbelt. He stares at Connor pointedly not looking back at him. And knows.
He just knows.
He wasn’t invited tonight to play the wingman. He was invited as the date.
Connor’s date.
Oh my God.
“Connor,” Oliver says, desperate. He reaches out and touches Connor’s arm.
“I’ll take you home.”
“No.”
Finally, Connor looks at him and keeps his eyes there.
“I thought I was the wingman,” Oliver says, breathless with how fast his heart is racing. “I didn’t realize…”
“Oliver,” Connor says. The hurt disappears from his face, though he’s still frowning, still guarded. “This was a date. For us.” His brow pulls together. “So was the movies last week? And dinner out two weeks ago?”
“I didn’t… It was?”
“You didn’t think it was?”
“I didn’t… I wasn’t…”
At once, Oliver remembers Connor resting his arm over the back of his chair in the movies. At Oliver laughing off all of Connor’s touches. At Connor stuffing his hands in his pockets and respecting the distance he thought Oliver wanted.
He thinks of Connor smiling at him over dinner. At how he laughed and flirted and blushed.
But doesn’t he do that with everyone?
Or is it simply… them.
“Connor,” Oliver says, voice stronger now. He knows what he wants, what he has to do. “Ask me out again.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Michaela raps her knuckles on the window of Connor’s car, still parked in the lot outside the restaurant.
The windows are foggy. Connor and Oliver are wrapped up in each other. They’ve been making out since the misunderstanding cleared.
“I’ve liked you forever,” Connor had said through the kisses.
I’ve loved you for longer, Oliver thought, though simply said, “Me, too.”
“I’m glad you worked everything out,” Michaela shouts through the door. “Try to be on time next time, though, huh?”