“Thanks.” He nods his head for a moment before he stands up, swaying a bit, and then a laugh falls out.
“Let me just…” I trail, looking back to the hall.
“Ah, shit. You have company over.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me, making me laugh. “You don’t have —”
“Stop, it’s fine. She has an early morning, already gone to bed. I’ll just let her know I’ll be back.”
Nodding his head, he waits as I walk back towards my bedroom. Pushing the door open, closing it behind me, and shaking my head at how ridiculous this entire situation is.
“Sketch?” I call out to her before her head pokes out of the bathroom. I try not to laugh, shaking my head. “He’s drunk.”
“Why’s he here?”
“I don’t know.” I say. “Said he didn’t know where else to go. Seems like he’s having a meltdown about Tate.”
“But why here? And this is what twice that I’ve been here. I didn’t think you guys liked each other anymore?”
“Me neither.” I laugh,
She gives me a questioning look as I just shrug.
“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”
Nodding her head, she takes a couple of steps toward me and leans up on her toes, placing a gentle kiss on my lips. “I love you.”
I understand the significance of her saying it first this time.
“I love you too.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For giving a shit about him. Regardless of the bullshit he’s put you through, and the shit you’re inevitably going to go through because of me.”
“Nah,” I laugh. “The shit I’m gonna get for this is separate. And worth it completely on its own.”
“You know you’ve already gotten laid today, right?”
It makes me laugh out loud as I shake my head. “Believe me, I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.” Pausing, I hesitate again. As I hear footsteps walking around the house. “I should go before he tries to come in here.”
“Go,” she whispers, leaning in and kissing me again, and then I’m back out the door.
“Ready?” I ask Z as I enter the kitchen, but not surprised he’s no longer in here. Walking out into the living room, shaking my head as I look over to the couch where we were just lying. He’s sitting in the middle, his head in his hands. “You okay?”
“No.” He looks up at me, his eyes red, and I’m not sure how to navigate this entire thing.
“Should I call Tate?”
“No.” he shakes his head. “I’m fine. I just…” he trails off.
“Come on.” I nod my head toward the door.
Sagging into the passenger side of the truck, the door slams harder than I’m pretty sure he meant to.
Leaning his forehead against the window, he stares out of it.
“Bro, this is fucking weird.” I look over at him, making him laugh out, nodding his head. “Talk it out.”
