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“What are my chances of some kind of food?” Lake asked, looking around the kitchen. His eyes weren’t watering, it was just raining in there.
“Now you want me to feed you?”
“Well, yeah. I’m easy, man. You got like a packet of chips? An apple? Those Fruit Roll-Ups?” Red was absolutely a flavour, and it was Lake’s favourite.
“Fruit Roll-Ups?” Grady asked. He went to the fridge, though, so Lake decided he was staying on his good list. He didn’thavea shit list, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t time, or room, to create one.
“Yeah, you know, the ones that used to get put in school lunch boxes?” Lake’s mum had bought them by the box. “They got stuck in your teeth, and you had to spend the whole next period picking them out with your nails. I blame a lot of tantrums I had in third grade on the feat of strength that required. That I didn’t have, obviously. And cavities that, luckily, the military paid to get filled.”
Grady dumped a packet of mozzarella cheese and a carton of sour cream on the island bench. “I got carrot sticks and celery in mine,” he said, his voice fading a little as he disappeared into the pantry again.
Lake had to take a second to process that. Child-Grady needed the biggest fucking hug. Maybe some therapy. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Grady returned with a packet of family-sized Doritos and two jars: spicy salsa and what looked like roasted capsicums. “I had to help scrape body pieces off a four-car pileup once. Multiple times, in fact.”
“Uh…” Well, that was even more depressing. Maybe adult-Grady needed a hug too. Lake grimaced. “I guess that puts it into context? You’re a very morbid person.”
“Comes with the territory.” Grady shrugged.
“No way. I’ve met Quinn, remember? He doesn’t have your whole”—Lake wriggled his fingers at Grady—“deep and mysterious vibe going on.”
“Quinn is the exception,” Grady said. He bent to rustle in a cupboard beneath them and came out with an oven tray, which he then covered in baking paper.
“I highly doubt that.” Lake studied all the ingredients Grady had gathered. “Are you making nachos?”
“Cheat nachos, yeah. I don’t have any meat or beans to go with them. But it should make do for a couple of drunks.”
“Oh my God.” Lake was already salivating. “Will you marry me?”
“That depends,” Grady said as he emptied the Doritos onto the tray.
“On what?” Lake leaned forward and snagged a few in his hand, crunching loudly on them. Fuck yes. Cheese Supreme was the superior flavour and would make nachos even better.
“Where are you taking me for our honeymoon?”
Lake sat up straighter, beaming. “Oh, I already know that one! Maldives.”
Grady poured them another drink before he drizzled the salsa over the chips and grabbed the bag of cheese. “You’ll have to explain that one to me.”
“Okay, so for like half the year at night, on Vaadhoo Island in Maldives, there are bioluminescent sea plankton that light up the sea,” Lake said, gesturing wildly. His hand hit his glass, and it tipped towards him, splashing across his shirt and instantly soaking through.
Lake stared down in surprise before bursting into laughter. “Whoops?” He righted his glass and took the paper towels that Grady handed over to him.
“Can’t take you anywhere,” Grady commented.
“It’s what my mum says,” Lake said with a sheepish smile.
“C’mon, I’ll get you something to change into.”
“Yeah?” Lake leaped off his stool and dropped the wet paper towels in the bin before following behind Grady.
He’d been right about the bedroom. It was similar to the lounge: navy walls, dark wooden furniture. The bed washuge,easily a king, and had bedding that matched the walls. Another instance where it didn’t shrink the room but instead gave it a warm, homey feel. Definitely not what he’d been expecting.
Grady slid open a built-in wardrobe to reveal a rack of hanging clothes. Most of them were suits, which did not surprise Lake in the least.
“It’ll be a bit big,” Grady said, tugging a white shirt from the middle, “but better than stinking like a brewery. Do you want to shower?”
“Nah. Just a quick wipe, maybe with a face washer?” Takingallhis clothes off just because he’d spilled his drink sounded like a lot of effort. And the whiskey was already kicking in, so he couldn’t say with one hundred percent accuracy that he wouldn’t face-plant in the shower. Also, nachos were waiting for him, so passing out was on his to-do list forlater.
