He burst through the door and slammed it behind him.
“How did it go?” his friend asked.
He grabbed his friend by his shirt. With a few almost-tears in his eyes, he said, “You gave me the wrong name.”
“Wrong name? Weren’t you after the hot one?”
“No way. You like the shorty?”
He glared. His friend backpedalled.
“Not that she looks bad or anything. She looks cute. But her friend’s the real hot stuff.”
“It’s not about the looks.”
“Then what is it?”
The heat returned to his cheeks. He backed away, but this time, it was his friend who grabbed him.
“What is it?”
He looked away.
His friend sighed but didn’t push the issue. Which was good, because he didn’t know how to explain it without sounding like a total sap.
Her friend might be hotter, but her eyes didn’t soften like hers did.