“Oh my god,” Corey said. “We’ll need disguises.”
“Obviously,” I said. “You can’t go undercover without disguises. It’s, like, the law.”
“This probably isn’t going to end well,” Paul said.
“Of course it will,” I said. “We’ll either see that Darren is a fucking slut and deserves to be hit by a bus, or that he’s pining for me and I will need to sit on his face.”
“Gross,” Corey said. “And also romantic.”
“Or,” Vince said, “we could go with my idea and just talk to—”
“We already voted,” I said.
“We did?” he asked.
“Yes. And you lost.”
“Sorry, babe,” Paul said. “B
ecause disguises.”
“I still think it’d be easier if you just asked—”
“Vince! I have a job for you!”
“Of course you do, Sandy,” he said with a sigh.
“You need to call your brother and find out where they’re going on their date. And you need to do it in such a way that doesn’t invite suspicion.”
“You should probably do it now,” Paul agreed.
“Because what if the date is today?” Corey said.
“And that would just be bad if we didn’t know,” I said.
Vince looked grumpy. “My disguise had better be something really cool.”
“The coolest thing you’ve ever seen,” I promised him.
He took his phone off the strap on his sleeve (bicyclists are so ridiculous) and pulled up his brother’s number, grumbling about how we always did things the hard way.
“Put it on speaker,” Corey hissed before he could raise it to his ear.
“And don’t let him know we’re listening in,” I said.
Vince sighed again, but complied.
It rang three times before—
“Vince. It’s really early.”
And yep. There were still feelings there. Because the sound of his gravelly morning voice did things to my penis.
“Sorry,” Vince said, sounding very awkward. “I just wanted to talk to my bro.”
Bro, I mouthed at Paul.
Homo jocks, Paul mouthed back, because that explained everything.