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Ezra:Going as fast as I can, hold your britches.
Ezra:What’s Gale doing for this special evening?
showing up, hopefully.
Ezra:you didn’t tell him?
of course I didn’t
Ihad decided: tonight we were going to institute a new tradition.
I was reading the latest Casanova entries yesterday and had wanted to laugh. There was no mistaking it. They were all writing in—Gale, Ezra, even Jude. All of them feeling like anything but platonic roommates about each other, and all afraid to show their vulnerabilities.
I had to help them. Help us. Had to push things forward somehow.
And I knew just how to accomplish it.
Starting tonight, we would be having taco and margarita night. We would eat, and we would drink, and maybe we’d add in a movie or a game of naked Twister or strip poker. I’d let Jude decide that.
But we were going to spend time together, doing something fun, and eventually… we had to break down some walls.
Right?
So, here I was, feverishly chopping tomatoes and shredding lettuce and grating cheese and hoping I hadn’t forgotten anything. All by myself. Ezra had disappeared on some mysterious errand and Gale didn’t have anything to do because I didn’t want to freak him out. I had never actually made tacos before, but it didn’t seem too difficult… just an exercise in timing, making sure everything came together at the same time.
I had just finished setting bowls of pico, sour cream, and guacamole on the table when the door opened, and Gale walked in. He did a quick survey of the spread and frowned. “What’s all this?”
“Taco and margarita night,” I told him. “Ezra should be here in a minute to get the drinks made.”
“Taco and margarita night,” he repeated thoughtfully. “This is… new.”
I handed him a bowl of chips and salsa. “Put that on the table over there?”
“What are you doing, Baron?”
I stopped moving around aimless tasks and faced him. “Eating, in a few minutes. With my friends, hopefully.”
He set the bowl on the coffee table with a thump. “Friends including Jude, I assume.”
“You have a problem with that?”
He glanced to the side and blew air through his nostrils like he did when he was agitated about something. “Nope. No problem.”
“Good. Because I think it’s long overdue that you got over whatever’s been making you want to torment that girl.”
“I’m done with that. I just don’t understand—” He cut himself off as the door opened and closed again, admitting Ezra this time. He looked from me to Gale and quirked an eyebrow as he set a paper bag on the counter.
“Everything copacetic?”
“Yeah,” Gale bit off. “Everything’s just peachy.”
“Good.” I walked back in the kitchen to help Ezra start margaritas.
Gale pulled out a chair and straddled it, draping his arms over its back. “I guess I just don’t understand how you guys can watch her go from sleeping in your bed to rolling around on the couch with him, and not be bothered by it.”
Ezra shrugged. “I just think it really depends on the situation. If I’d been dating some girl for a year, then she came in here and started hanging all over some guy down the hall… yeah, I’d probably be mad. But this girl… she comes in here and she’s not looking for a damn thing other than a bed to sleep in, and she’s every bit as torn over the fact that she likes all of us as we are.” He pointed a stir stick at Gale. “You know I’m right about that. She doesn’t want to like you. She thinks you’re an asshole. And yet there’s a chemistry there that makes everyone in the immediate vicinity feel like they’re interrupting something.”
Gale opened his mouth to speak, and the door opened again. Jude stood uncertainly in the threshold.
