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“Right? Who do you think invented dinner?” I need to know.
“Cavemen. Jesus, give me a hard one, why don’t you?”
“Wow, you need to stop saying things.”
“Don’t I know it. My parents think I’m a fruit loop like you are.”
This worries me. “Are you?”
He thinks for a moment. “No,” he says finally. “I just wish….”
I nod. “I know,” I say quietly. “Doesn’t matter, though. You’re still my best friend.”
“Like I’m your fag hag?”
I look at him adoringly. “I love you,” I gush.
“Hey, remember when you didn’t know that you wanted Otter to spray his man babies all over your face and we didn’t have to talk about our feelings all the time?”
“Yeah, those were the good old days. So, Anna?”
“Shit, I thought you’d forgotten.”
“Bitch, please.”
“Ah, God. You’re going to have all these gay colloquialisms now, aren’t you?”
I raise my voice. “Kid, what does colloquialisms mean?”
“Of or relating to conversation. Are you guys done yet? This is the weirdest thing I have ever seen. My therapist is going to have his job cut out for him.”
“Therapist?” Creed asks me.
“Never mind. You’re the one who said ‘oh, snap’ earlier.”
“Oh yeah.”
“So, Anna?”
“You’ll know when I know, okay?”
“Okay. Peek over my shoulder. What is Otter doing?”
“Okay, hold on. Oh, fuck.”
“What!”
“You know that clenched jaw thing he does when he’s really pissed?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s way past that.”
“Oh, hell. Time to let go.”
“Okay. And, Bear?”
“Yeah?”
