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He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Let us in. We brought pizza.”
Just the mention of that had my stomach growling again. I opened the door and grabbed the box Alex held.
“Hey!”
I took it into the kitchen, and Trenton shut the door, locking it.
They each had their bookbags and some other grocery bags, and when Clint dropped one on the counter, I saw he had a change of clothes in there. “You guys think you’re spending the night?”
“We know we are.” Alex passed me, grabbed a slice, and went to the fridge.
“Uh . . .” Trenton was at the couch, and he held up my bottle of wine. “We need to talk about this, Rams?”
Clint snorted. “Right on.” He went to the cabinet and grabbed another, taking the top off. “We each get our own.”
Alex’s eyes widened, but he took the wine from Clint and took a drink. Wincing, he handed it back as Trenton came over, reaching for it.
“How was the game?”
Trenton shrugged. “We won, but not by as much as we should’ve.”
“You’re coming next time?”
I nodded at Alex. “I couldn’t, not today, after . . .”
“We get it.” Clint gave me a look and a small nod. He understood.
“Scout said you hit the bag for an hour straight,” Alex said. “How are your arms?”
“Like jelly. I’m going to hurt tomorrow.”
“Dude.” Clint reached over, took my wine from Trenton, and slid it back to me. “What do you think that’s for?”
He was right. I took another drink. My stomach was swishing around. Wine. Numbness. My body was beyond tired, and now there was pizza. Best night ever. My cousins deciding we were doing a sleepover? That was the cherry on top.
“No party for you guys tonight?”
All three threw me looks. Clint rolled his eyes. “Right. After today? When our cousin needs us?”
That warmed me up. “Thanks guys.”
“Topic change. What are we watching?” Clint eyed the television. “Oh. No. No, no, no. We’re not watching that soap-opera, teen-drama shit. No way. We’re watching a horror movie or something—anything but that stuff. Seriously.”
Alex laughed. “We’re aware you’ve already binged the whole first season.”
“Wha—I did not.”
Trenton picked up the pizza box and carried it to the couch. “It was either you or Dad, and I don’t think Dad even knows what that show is, so you’re caught, Clint. ’Fess up to it.”
Alex brought the wine over.
Clint’s mouth was hanging open, his pizza forgotten in his hand. “I—I’d never—”
“You did!” Alex yelled, disappearing into the hallway. He came back carrying a bunch of blankets.
Trenton looked around, frowning. “Where are your pillows?”
I pointed to where Alex had just come from. “In the closet.”
“I got ’em.” Alex went back and returned with his arms full of pillows.
Clint still hadn’t moved.
Alex dropped the pillows on the floor, and then he and Trenton moved the coffee table to the side. They’d begun spreading out the pillows when I had an idea. “Wait.”
I darted upstairs to the guest room and pulled out two air mattresses.
“Oh, sweet.” Alex had followed me. He picked one up and gestured to the top corner of the closet. “We can line those up on the floor for anyone who wants extra space.”
I grabbed the foam mattresses he’d pointed out and followed him back down.
“Oh yeah. That’s what I’m talking about.” Trenton came over, all smiles, and grabbed one of the air mattresses. He took it over, plugged it in, and spread it out as the air pumped in. “These are perfect.”
“I call couch.” Clint was about to sit when a pillow whacked him in the face.
Alex glared. “Help set up.”
“Yeah, douche.” Trenton added.
Clint motioned. “You guys got it covered. Besides, everyone knows my real job is to be emotional therapist for Ramsay.”
I started laughing as I took the wine out of his hands.
“Hey.”
I pointed at the blankets and the foam mattresses. “Help, then drink.”
He growled, but it was all an act. He was fighting a grin as he spread the mattresses out.
By the end, we had a whole mecca of blankets from the couch to the television. The mattresses raised everything up, so the couch just seemed like one end of a giant bed.
It was glorious. I loved it, and I curled up in the corner of the couch with my favorite blanket over me. I kept my wine on the corner of the coffee table within arm’s reach. My phone was quiet, I’d eaten three delicious slices of pizza, and was already half asleep when Clint won the battle and pulled up the latest horror movie.
Alex and Trenton stretched out on the mattresses, their feet toward the TV and heads propped up by pillows. Clint was on the other end of the couch. When Alex switched positions so he was on his stomach, his head toward the TV, I knew he’d be sleeping within minutes.
