When he was downstairs, he put the sunscreen in his pack, and on impulse got a drawing pad and some pencils which he put in the pack’s front pocket. By then it was almost ten-thirty. He paced the living room, suddenly nervous as he waited for Conley to arrive.
I’m being stupid. There’s nothing to be nervous about. We’re friends, aren’t we, and it’s not like a date. It’s two guys spending the afternoon at the pool.
He’d finally convinced himself of that when he heard the front door open and Conley call out, “I’m here.”
“Be right there.” Brian slung the backpack over his shoulder before joining him. He resisted gulping when he saw Conley. Although they were both dressed in shorts, Conley had on a tank top which accented his muscular arms and chest.