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“Yeah,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper as I lifted with all my strength. It wouldn’t move. In fact, it was wedged in the door so well that we couldn’t move it at all.
Releasing a harsh breath, I stood with my hands on my hips, staring at the couch that was too big to get inside. “What now?”
“Uh…” Brock scratched the back of his neck. “You wanna get groceries?”
I nodded. “Sounds good.”
I started walking away as Brock climbed over the couch and we strode to the truck. Well, I went to mine and he went to his.
“Whoa, what are you doing?” Scottie ran after us, yelling at us. “You can’t leave it in the door!”
I looked back at the door, then over to Brock, and back to Scottie. “Why not?”
“Because…it belongs inside.”
I nodded. “Right, I can see where you’d think that, but I like it there.”
“Me too,” Brock agreed. “It gives a welcoming feel.”
“Yeah. Come on in and take a seat.”
“Except, no one can take a seat because your couch is in the door!” Scottie snapped.
“You know, you’re a little tense over something that isn’t even yours.”
“Yeah, you should go home and find Quinn. Talk about needing to relieve the tension,” he chuckled.
“To the store?” I asked Brock.
He nodded and went back to his truck. I went to mine.
“Wait, you’re not driving together?” Scottie asked.
Man, he was really stuck on this. With another sigh, I turned to face him. “What’s the problem now?”
“You’re going to the same fucking place. Why would you take separate trucks?”
That was a funny question. “Because we’re not together.”
“You live together,” Scottie retorted. “You’re literally driving to the same place and shopping for the same kitchen.”
“Right, but his groceries are his and mine are mine,” I pointed out.
“Yeah, and we’re guys,” Brock spoke up. “It would be weird to drive together.”
“In what way?” Scottie asked. “Are you afraid people are gonna think you’re together because you’re in the same truck?”
“No,” I scoffed. “But this is my truck. I drive my truck.”
“Yeah, and I drive mine,” Brock answered. “Why is this a problem?”
“And why do you care?” I asked, more to the point.
Scottie shook his head, staring at us like we were idiots. “I don’t. I don’t fucking care. Leave your couch in the door and drive separate trucks. Do whatever the fuck you want. This is no longer fun to watch.”
“I don’t understand why it was fun to begin with, but…you do you.”
I got in my truck and slammed the door, then backed out of the driveway. Brock was hot on my tail as we drove into town. Pulling into the parking lot of the grocery store, he parked beside me, then we both grabbed separate shopping carts.
