Holy shit, had it actually been my fault?No.I wasn’t about to let some old-school magazine gaslight me into thinking it was.
Another bullet point was “Make Them Work for It.”
Being too nice, according to the story, was a surefire way to land in the friend zone. I found it asinine that the advice given was to be “coy” and “elusive”—I mean, weren’t we more progressive than that? Wasn’t communication sexier than playing some game?
But at the same time, I had a zero-win percentage, so what the hell did I know?
“Your mom would have loved these,” my dad said, bringing me back to the flowers.
“Yeah, she would’ve,” I agreed, wistfulness creeping in my stomach. My mom had been a sucker for even the basic carnations from the grocery store.
It would have been enough, Connor sending flowers. My dad was eating it up. But then…then. Just when I was about to leave for work, he sent another message.
Connor:I know it’s last minute, but do you and your dad want to watch the game from a suite tonight? That seems like a perfect fake boyfriend thing to do, right?
What?!The Coyotes had a home game this evening, a Thursday-night game, and even though we had season tickets, I’d talked my dad into staying home because we didn’t want to deal with all that traffic on a weeknight.
But watching it from a freaking suite?
That was like the old guy’s dream.
Me:Are you serious right now?
Connor:Yes
Me:My dad will lose his everloving shit. That seems like too big an offer from a fake boyfriend, though. You don’t have to do that.
Connor:My sister was supposed to come but now she can’t, so it’s already reserved. You’ll be doing me a favor—someone should use it. Your brothers can come, too.
“Oh my God,” I said out loud, because this was just too much.
As a Coyotes diehard, the idea of watching from a player’s suite was absolutely surreal.
Add to that the fact that my…whatever he was…was the one inviting me, and this was monumentally epic.
“What’s wrong?” my dad said, running out of the bathroom. He looked at me in alarm like I’d just screamed bloody murder. “What happened?”
“One sec,” I said to my dad, then sent another text.
Me:I’m about to tell my dad, so this is your last chance to rescind the offer before he goes full-on bonkers.
Connor:TELL HIM. And remind him your boyfriend is dope as hell.
“What is it, Duff?” my dad snapped. “I gotta get to work, for God’s sake.”
“Connor wants to know if we want to watch the game tonight from a suite,” I said casually, as if it was no big deal.
My dad’s eyes widened and he literally stopped in his tracks.
The man froze.
“Are you messing with me, kid?” he said, his eyes very nearly bugging out of his head. “Don’t you dare be messing with me, you little shit.”
“I’m not!” I laughed, giggling because his face immediately split into a huge grin. “He said the boys can come, too.”
“What about Johnny and Machado?” he asked, referring to his buddies. “Any shot they can pile up there, too?”
I sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to let it go until I asked.