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‘I don’t know,’ Kei sighs, wiping his hand down his face. ‘I don’t even know the man, and how would this even work?’ He could practically see the cold seeping into his coffee, mentally making a note to start a fresh pot.
‘So like if you say you’re interested, I’ll show him your picture. If he’s interested in you, which he so will be, babe, you’re just his type, then we’ll set it up.’ He finally picks up his phone, tapping the screen a few times to get it back to the home screen.
‘Wait. If he’s interested in me? Not you?’
OR: Futakuchi suggests that him and Kei invite a third back to their bed. He regrets it the next morning.