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“All right, pizza. Feed me.”
Paul steps back and shakes his head. I head out after him with Preston and Jeremy following along after us.
“Come to Rocky’s with us,” Jeremy says. They’re walking close together but not holding hands, just in case a blood-sucking reporter catches pictures or whatever. Preston doesn’t want any of us getting caught in his drama, but especially not Jeremy.
“Isn’t there a rule about feeding the Gremlins after midnight?” Preston says.
“It’s not midnight!” I pull out my phone to check the time just in case because time has zero meaning to me.
“It’s midnight somewhere . . .”
I flip him off over my shoulder.
“No thanks. I think I’ll pass,” he deadpans.
“It wasdefinitely notan offer. I’m not into pain.”
“Children!” Paul says, and Jeremy snickers. “I swear you’re as bad as siblings.”
I wrap my arm around Paul’s and give him a big-eyed innocent look. “Sorry, Daddy.”
Jeremy cackles, and Preston shudders while Paul looks like he’s going to murder me.
He sighs but keeps walking. He never tells me to stop or tells me that I’m being too much. Sometimes I wonder when it’ll start, though. I know I’m a lot. I’m over the top, change topics quickly, have big emotions and a smart mouth. But after a lifetime of being told to lower my voice, sit still, relax because it’s not that big of a deal, I struggle to know where to draw the line.
My family loves me; I’ve never doubted that, but I know they get annoyed with me. The impulsive, loud, random noises get overwhelming. My parents are quiet people. They’re content to sit on the couch and watch TV or read or whatever. Sometimes that quiet is great, but then I walk through the room and squawk for no reason at all, leave half the cabinet doors open, and leave the juice container on the counter because I forgot to put it away. I know it’s frustrating for them. They’ve nagged me my entire life to be quiet, sit still, close the doors, and I still can’t get it right.
We make it to the dorms, and when the elevator doors close behind us, my head has to ask the same questions it always does on elevators.
If you stuck your hand through the door, where the doors were closed on your palm, would you break your fingers when we moved? How close to the walls are we really? If we got stuck in here in between floors, could the four of us pry the doors open and climb out? Does that theory about jumping right before the car hits the springy thing at the bottom of the shaft actually work? How would you know—
“Brendon.” Paul snaps his fingers in my face, interrupting the tirade of intrusive thoughts.
I blink, not realizing I was disassociating, and head down the hallway with Paul.
“You okay?” he asks when we get inside.
“Me? Yeah.” I slide my jacket off my shoulders and toss it on my bed to take off the tie and unbutton my shirt. “Why?”
“You seem off.” Paul shrugs and strips off his shirt. I find myself eyeing him semi covertly, then force myself to turn away from him. I shouldn’t be looking at my friend like that. Doesn’t matter that he’s hot as fuck.
Paul pulls on old jeans that do amazing things for his ass and a thermal shirt that hugs his frame. With a backward black hockey ball cap, he looks at me and laughs at my yellow ducky underwear.
“I’ll go grab us seats at Rocky’s.” And he’s gone.
3
Paul
Rocky’s is busy tonight as we celebrate our second win of the weekend. We’ve just gotten food delivered to the table when the door opens and a frazzled Brendon walks in. Preston and Jeremy are nowhere in sight, which isn’t exactly abnormal.
“You all right, man?” I ask him as he drops into the seat next to me and grabs my beer out of my hand to take a swig. I sigh but don’t fight him. It’s just how he is. Secretly, I love it. That possessive side of me likes that he reaches for me when he needs or wants something. There’s an easy intimacy that I don’t have with anyone else, and after being alone last year, I crave him being near me.
“Fine,” he snaps. That’s not normal for him.
“You wanna tell your face that?” I snatch my beer back, but he’s drained it. Fucker. “The lovebirds coming?” I signal the waitress for another beer and turn back to him.
“I don’t know.” Brendon gets up and orders himself a beer.
