"What's the matter, Auntie forcing you into blind dates again?"
Nathan Moore looked up with disdain, his eyes gleaming with schadenfreude.
Mentioning blind dates made Evander Lancaster's shoulders slump as he collapsed onto the sofa, the picture of utter despair.
"Sigh, don't even bring it up. It was like being on a concert tour, three dates in a row," Evander sat up straight again, "Bro, think about it. With my dashing looks, charm, and talent—not to mention my impeccably elegant and handsome demeanor—do I really need to go on blind dates? If I just stood out in the street, women would flock to me like flies to honey!"
Having said that, he grabbed an apple and started munching on it.
His shameless self-love irked Titus Zane greatly. He praised himself to the high heavens. Where does that leave her man?
Sitting in Nathan's lap, Titus Zane couldn't help but speak up in a voice neither too loud nor too soft, "Flies flock to rotten meat, you know."
