Right Man, Right Time (The Vancouver Agitators, #3)(23)

“I think they look great,” Pacey says, clearly trying to be the super positive one. “Best pillows I’ve ever seen.”

“Where did you get them?” Posey asks. “Target?”

“Target?” Hornsby scoffs. “These are West Elm quality.”

“Target has great quality pillows, you jackass,” Posey replies.

“I don’t think we’re here to talk about the pillows, remember?” Pacey says, giving them both looks.

“Oh . . . right,” Hornsby says. “Uh . . . how’s life?”

Jesus Christ. I pinch my brow, irritated that I must deal with this.

“You okay?” Holmes asks, the more levelheaded and quieter one of the group.

“I’m fine. I actually—”

Knock. Knock.

The guys all pause, and with confused looks in their eyes, they glance over at the door.

Shit.

Using his finger, Posey counts us, making sure we’re all here. Hornsby sits taller, staring at the door as if he has X-ray vision, and Pacey fluffs the pillow next to him while whispering, “Who’s that?”

“Uh . . .” I say, unsure of how to respond. They all turn to me, looking for an answer, and I don’t know what to say. Their stares and confused expressions shift to anger, which causes my back to break out in sweat.

“If you tell me that’s Sarah, I’m going to have a fucking conniption,” Hornsby says.

“Oh shit, I didn’t even think about that,” Posey says. “Tates, that can’t be Sarah.”

“Dude, is it Sarah?” Pacey asks, his fist clenching at his side.

“No,” I answer, exasperated.

“Then answer it,” Hornsby challenges.

“No need. I can,” Pacey says, moving right past me and toward the door.

“Wait,” I call out, but it’s too late. He opens the door, revealing Ollie standing on the other side. Long brown hair tied up into a tight pony on the top of her head, she has minimal makeup on her face and is sporting a pair of leggings and a plain black V-neck T-shirt.

“Oh, is this the wrong apartment?” she asks, looking confused.

“Who are you looking for?” Pacey asks.

“Me,” I call out, knowing there’s no use telling her to run for her life. “Let her in, Pacey.”

A collective quiet hangs over the room as Pacey moves to the side and Ollie steps into my apartment, her hands clutching the thin straps of her mini backpack.

“Uh . . . hi,” she says with a cute wave. “I didn’t think you would, uh, have company.”

“I wasn’t expecting them as well.”

Looking more confused than ever, Pacey says, “Who’s this?”

Well, this is what I wanted, right? To tell my boys that I’m seeing someone so they don’t assume I’m lonely and barge into my apartment with pizza and beer. Or fret over me getting back together with Sarah. This is the moment . . .

So I guess here goes nothing.

“This is Ollie,” I answer. “My, uh . . . my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Posey croaks, choking on his pizza.

“You have a girlfriend?” Pacey asks, brows pulled together. “How come you’ve never told us about her?”

“Yeah, what the fuck, man?” Hornsby adds. “You’ve just been hiding her from us?”

I pull on the back of my neck, trying to gather my patience. “We, uh . . . we wanted to make sure we were committed before going public.”

Ollie awkwardly smiles and then waves. “Hey, I’m Ollie, nice to weirdly meet you all.”

Finding his manners, Pacey lends his hand out to her and says, “Hi. I’m Pacey. The guy with the pizza is Levi Posey. The one on the couch is Eli Hornsby. And the shy one over there in the corner, that’s Halsey Holmes.”

“Nice to meet you all.” She rocks on her heels as silence falls between us all. This is so fucking uncomfortable. “Do you want me to wait out in the hallway until you’re done?”

“No,” I say quickly. “They were all just leaving.”

“Wait, I didn’t even get to crack my beer open yet,” Posey says.

“You’re leaving.”

“Now that Ollie’s here, I really want to stay,” Hornsby says.

Yeah, over my dead body.

“Leave. Now. Before I physically remove you myself.”

“I think he’s being serious,” Posey says while looking among the boys and me. “I think he wants us to leave.”

“I think he does,” Hornsby says. “That’s fucking rude.”

“Come on,” Holmes says while picking up the pizza and the beer.

“Are we really just going to let him slide by with this new information?” Hornsby asks, the ever-present questioner in the group.

“We can talk about it later,” Pacey says, eyeing me.

“What about the pizza?” Posey asks while standing.

Glad to see where his priorities are at.

“We’ll finish it at my place,” Holmes says. “Come on.”

Thank God for him. Collectively, they shuffle out the door, all saying bye to Ollie. Pacey is the last one out, and when he turns to me, he has a very serious look on his face as he says, “You will be explaining this tomorrow.”