“Didn’t you wear gray on your first date?”
“Yeah, charcoal. I’m thinking of the dove gray one with the fitted waist.”
Scott sighed as he dropped back into the chair. “We’re going to be here all fucking night.”
“Well, if I keep agonizing over what to wear, I won’t have to go on the date.”
“Don’t you want to see her?”
“Desperately,” Jake said softly. “I can’t wait.”
“So … explain this to me.”
Jake sighed, turning from the mirror to go back to the closet. He took off the dark blue jacket and slipped on the neat gray one, heading back to the mirror to check himself out.
“I’ve never been nervous about a girl before,” he admitted. “She just, I don’t know, makes me nervous, I guess.”
“Are you sure it’s not the fact you’re going to an art museum?”
Jake looked at his brother, frowning. Scott laughed and opened his hands in an innocent gesture. “What? I speak the truth, don’t I?”
“I don’t know why I’m even talking to you.”
“Because you’re a fucking wreck, and I am a solid rock.”
“Nailed it,” Jake muttered.
“No, tell me, seriously,” Scott said. “Why are you going to an art museum? You are the utter antithesis of an artsy guy. You’re going to stick out like a wasp in a beehive.”
“Nice analogy,” Jake grumbled.
“Spill it. You wouldn’t be so anxious right now if you weren’t terrified of embarrassing yourself, and the only reason you could totally fuck up is that you are deliberately taking yourself out of your comfort zone. Why don’t you take her to a monster truck rally?”
“Give me a break!” Jake laughed. “She’s a total hippie girl. I’m sure she hates violent, loud things like that. She’s really into art. I’ve got to impress her by showing I can do something she wants to do.”
Scott was silent for a moment. Jake was forced to meet his brother’s intense glare when he didn't reply.
“You really like this girl, huh?”
“Yeah. I really do.”
“This doesn’t make sense, bro. You’ve always felt like the black sheep because you just can’t understand art, let alone produce it. Why are you going for an artsy girl? She’s going to find out the truth about you sooner or later.”
“You make it sound like I’ve got bodies buried in my basement,” Jake muttered.
Scott shrugged. “If she’s really quirky, that might be more acceptable.”
Jake stepped back from the mirror, running his hands over the front of the jacket. He decided he liked it and cocked his head to the side to check his hair was tousled just so.
Scott let out a low whistle. “Need more gel?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“You really are nervous.”
Jake sighed. “If you met your fated mate, you’d understand. I’m telling you, she’s the one. I have to do whatever it takes.”
Jake sighed, running his hand through his hair. He then realized his nervous gesture had probably ruined his carefully prepared look.