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“Uh-huh. See what you’re missing.” With his hands on his head, he shakes his hips. “Go out with me, and I’ll show you?”
“I’d rather drink a dog-shit milkshake than go out with you, Tug.”
“Even after seeing all this.” He’s still shaking his hips. God, please make him stop.
“Especially after seeing all that.” I use my hands to shield my face, and look away.
Brady and Liv enter the kitchen, laughing, which stops cold when the two of them take in Tug and his manhood. Liv gags.
Brady chuckles. “Tug, you gotta cover the li’l guy when we have guests. You’re going to scare Tori off.”
Tug freezes, and his smile fades away. “Hey, now, there’s nothing little about Tug, Jr.”
Brady bends at the waist, squints his eyes, and stares at Tug’s boxers. “Shit, Tug, I’ve had pimples bigger than that.”
Brady stands, and Tug pushes him. “At least the girls I’m with don’t have to ask if it’s in yet.”
Brady wraps Tug in a headlock, and the two of them start wrestling. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the two of them together, and it makes me happy.
They’re both laughing, and Brady continues to joke. “Yeah, well, when you were born the doctors couldn’t tell if they should put you in pink or blue.”
Tug straightens, brushing his hands down his chest. “Ha, ha! Hilarious, Brady.”
After a final noogie and a few more jokes about penis size, they finally settle down. We all hang out at the island, eating breakfast and chatting. It reminds me of our childhood, and I smile.
Tug piles up six pancakes and drowns them in syrup. Cutting the pile in fours, he stabs one of the fourths with his fork. My eyes widen as I watch him stuff the entire forkful in his mouth, chew a few times, and swallow.
“How’d that taste?” Brady asks. “Any idea?”
Tug looks confused. “What?”
Brady shakes his head, and Liv and I laugh. Tug looks at me and asks what Liv and I are doing today.
As usual, Liv answers for us. “I have to work, and Tor has a date.”
Big mouth! Ugh, I didn’t specifically instruct her not to say anything, and I wonder if she’s only announcing my plans to test my reaction or Brady’s.
“What? Who stole my girl?” Tug asks mock-angry. “I got some ass-kickin’ to do.”
“She’s going out with Harrison,” Liv announces.
I wish I was wearing socks, because I’d take one off and shove it in her giant talkative mouth. “Thanks, Liv. I do know how to speak.”
I notice Brady out of the corner of my eye, and turn to look at him. He’s just about to put a bite of pancake in his mouth when he stops and sets the fork on his plate. His lips press flat, and there’s a slight tic in his jaw. Looking away to my loud best friend, I shoot her a “shut the hell up” look. She’s sipping coffee and doesn’t see me.
Tug looks at me inquisitively. “Harrison Myers?”
Clueless, Liv answers for me again. “The one and only.”
Seriously, I’m not mute here! I hope she chokes on her coffee.
Brady doesn’t speak during the conversation. He brushes his food off the plate into the trash and sets his dishes in the sink. Not once looking at me, he walks out of the kitchen. His feet thunder up the stairs, and his door slams. What the Mr. Fucking Moody? He’s made it clear he only wants to be friends. Is he mad I have a date, or is it because the date is with Harrison?
“It’s the dimples, right, Tor?” Tug jokes. “Damn, chicks love dimples. If I had dimples, would you go out with me?”
Shaking my head, I reply, “I’d rather eat boogers.”
“That was weak,” Tug says, tapping my plate with his fork. It was weak, but I was distracted, trying to figure out what is up between Harrison and Brady.
