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I need answers to these burning questions cluttering my mind, so I do the only sensible thing. I head over to Caleb and Whit’s place after work. I don’t even text them to let them know I’m on my way because they never respond anyway. Whit’s so far up Caleb’s ass, literally and figuratively, they don’t have time for anything else…like socializing with their family.
Well, it’s family time now, fuckers.
I park my truck on the street and jog across to their large apartment complex. They rent a small studio in a sort of shitty neighborhood, but it’s all they can afford. Not that they complain. They’re so damn happy, just the two of them, in their little love bubble.
I want that.
I want it bad.
No one ever seems to pick me though. Seems like I’m the disposable one.
I jog up the four flights of stairs and knock loudly on their door. They better not be fucking right now. I’ve heard that shit one too many times; Caleb moans like a whore and I can’t Ctrl+Alt+Delete those sounds from my brain.
“Open up, fuckers!” I shout, and a minute later, the door swings open, and Whit stands there, eyeing me. He’s wearing all black, like usual. Black pants and a long-sleeved black shirt. He even has on black socks. I’ve never seen him wear any other color. For Halloween he should dress in all white just to freak everyone the fuck out.
Whit clears his throat and tucks a wayward strand of dark hair behind his ear as he meets my stare.
“Luke, what a surprise,” he says, deadpan, as he arches an eyebrow, and I can’t help but ask.
“Whit, man, you got a relative named Elliot? Because you two are eerily similar.”
Whit shakes his head. “No, not that I know of. All my relatives are in Romania.”
“Cool, cool,” I say and hold out my fist, and he bumps it as Caleb rounds the corner and pulls me into a hug, slapping me roughly on the back.
“Hey, man. Where have you been? What are you up to?” he asks with a wide smile. He’s wearing torn jeans, a stained white T-shirt, and a backward baseball cap. I glance over at Whit and smirk. The two of them couldn’t be more different if they tried.
When we pull away, Whit places a hand around Caleb’s waist, and Caleb just sinks back into him.
These two are very handsy; makes me kinda jealous.
I want someone to be all handsy with me, touching me all the time.
“Not much, dude. Just came by to hang.”
Caleb socks me in the arm. “Cool. Want a beer?”
“Hell yeah. I want all the beers.”
Caleb pulls away from Whit, walks to the fridge, and uncaps a bottle, handing it to me.
“I was just about to start dinner. Are you staying?” Whit asks, moving toward Caleb and pressing a hand to his neck.
See, what did I tell you? Handsy. All the damn time.
“Yeah, man. I could always eat,” I say.
“Better double the recipe then, babe,” Caleb says, grabbing a beer for himself and gesturing to the small, worn couch.
We sink down onto it as Whit moves around in the small kitchen.
Caleb takes a swig of beer and then tilts the bottle toward me. “So, what’s up, man? Why you hanging with us on a Friday night?”
“Can’t I chill with my favorite cousin?”
“Just figured you’d have plans. You know, out there causing chaos. Didn’t expect you here with us.”
“Well, Ma wanted me to go home and visit, but I have other plans this weekend.”
