Chapter SixDANTE RUBBED HIS sweaty palms on the paper towel Chris handed him. His friend had mentioned something about Dante soaking his jeans through if he didn’t stop drying his hands on them every thirty seconds. He couldn’t remember a time where he’d been so nervous before a date.
“Should I have shaved?” Dante asked, rubbing his scruff.
“No, darling.” Chris swatted his hand away and winked. “You look good, makes you look like an adult.”
Dante had never been at ease when people complimented his looks. An occasional “gorgeous” or “hot stuff” from a guy trying to hook up was fine. Someone he was close to was a different story.
He took another look at himself in the small mirror in his room. When it came to hair, Dante had struck gold. His light brown, slightly curly hair had always be
