Not a Date Dinner || Laddox
IT was not a date. It was just a dinner with a friend whom he haven’t watched in eleven years. Who actually happened to be his manager, hot as fuck &… straight. Lance growled as he disposed of the fifth shirt that night, tossing it to the floor to the already discarded pile of clothes that he had tried & find himself unable to like. He had told Maddox that he was almost ready but the only thing he had on were his pants & shoes. He still needed a shirt to go with the jacket & a tie. But for whatever reason, whenever Lance checked himself in the mirror to see if he looked good, all he could think about was Maddox’s face. On how incredibly amazing it felt to have him back in his life. That was just a dinner between friends, definitely not a date… but then why was Lance feeling so nervous? Usually pick clothes were something he did quickly since everything looked absolutely perfect on him. But he didn’t had dinners with friends like this. He didn’t had a one-on-one dinner with a man who had met him before the shit hit the fan. “Fuck.” Cursing under his breathe, Lance checked his phone yet again, expecting any sort of message from Maddox. Last thing he wanted was to be late & make him wait. Especially when he had some stuff planned for the night. What did friends do? They went out to dinner, they would grab a couple of beers & they would go to a small carnival not to far from there & go to the haunted house & bump cars. That’s what friends did right? Lance cursed as he discarded another shirt without even glancing at it, focusing all of his attention in texting Maddox to let him know that he was going to be a little delayed.
TEXT;; Maddox: I’ll be at the entrance in five. I just need to brush my hair. I have a public image to maintain and I can’t resemble Simba or even Mufasa. TEXT;; Maddox: Try not to miss me too much. I’ll be down soon. Promise.
@managingmaddox