HAYDEN

I stared at the open closet like it held the answer to life’s deepest mysteries. Which, in a way, it did.

If I got this wrong, Coleen would probably still go on the date, but I’d know, and she’d know. And Jason, who was currently sprawled on my couch eating my last bag of chips, would definitely know.

“Dude, it’s dinner. Not the NHL Awards,” Jason called, crunching obnoxiously loud.

“Easy for you to say,” I muttered, holding up two button-downs. “Blue or ...