Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 108862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“Oh, duh, us.” Lance gathers a handful of popcorn and shrugs. “We were an astronomically improbable anomaly.”
“Don’t go usin’ big words he don’t understand,” says Tanner.
Chad reaches around Lance to smack Tanner over the head, causing him to laugh. “Watch it, I will take you down on this floor in front of your husband!”
“I’m not gettin’ involved,” calls Billy from the kitchen. I still don’t know what he’s whipping up, but it smells vaguely like pizza. Chefs’ minds never rest, I’ve learned. He runs T&S’s Sweet Shoppe.
Y’know. Where I recently got a couple banana-nut muffins.
That someone probably threw away.
I glance at the window nearby, noticing the guestroom light on next-door. The blinds are open, but I see no one inside.
It’s not that I need to talk about Diego to my friends.
I’m not even sure I want to.
But I have a crisis here.
And all my friends have is popcorn.
“Please, please, please tell me Nadine went to you about flower arrangements for the reunion,” says Lance.
It takes me ten solid seconds before I realize he’s talking to me. “Oh. Nadine?” I shrug. “Well, um … I mean …”
“Nooo,” breathes Lance, scandalized instantly. “She’s still using Marcy from Brighthouse??”
“Nadine needed a sort of all-in-one thing,” I quickly say in her defense, eyeing Tanner who happens to be Nadine’s son—despite him not seeming to be paying attention. “I really don’t have any hard feelings. Besides, I helped with flowers at the recent Boomin’ Barbecue thing on the Fourth, and she—”
“That was at the McPhersons’, not the Strongs’, and—wow, I cannot believe her.” Lance nudges Tanner on his other side. “Knock a little sense into your sweet mama. Why isn’t she supporting her local businesses?”
Tanner, way too glued to the movie, mouth full of popcorn, only half-turns to Lance. “Say what?”
Lance gives up instantly and reaches over to put a hand on my knee. “Listen. If Cassie and I get our shit together, we’re doing this big fashion runway thing in the fall, it’s gonna be ridiculous. Like, over-the-top country-chic. Very ‘yee-haw but make it Vogue’.”
Chad snorts.
Lance leans in and adds: “I’m withholding sex from Chad until he agrees to be a model.”
Chad snaps to attention. “You’re doin’ what now?”
“And we’ll need flowers,” says Lance to me. “Tons of flowers.”
“You ain’t withholdin’ anything from me!”
“Cassie and I got your back.” Lance winks at me, then throws an arm over the couch and calls out at Billy. “Seriously, what are you making in there? A four-course meal? I thought you were just getting wine!”
Something catches my eye in the window.
Diego is suddenly seated in a chair right next to it, head down, looking at something. Phone, maybe. Or a book?
I fight an instinct to draw my own curtains shut, realizing I’m fully visible if he turns his head on a whim.
But he doesn’t.
He just sits there, staring down at something.
And I just sit here in my armchair, sweating internally, eyes wide and uncertain.
“Wyatt, buddy, is there a raccoon?”
I snap my eyes onto Chad, asker of the question. “Uh, no.”
“You’ve looked outside, like, nine times.”
I wonder if this is my chance to bring it up. That’s kinda why I threw an impromptu movie night thing, right?
So I start: “Actually, it’s my—”
“You could call HHPC,” says Ethan.
Everyone in the room turns to him, sitting by himself in the corner by my potted hydrangeas with an opened bag of Twizzlers on his lap, gnawing on one.
I think I literally forgot he was here.
It’s sort of an accident he gets roped into our movie nights. He came with Harrison and Hoyt once, the cousin to Turtle, a fellow guy they know from Gary’s ranch. Ethan’s quiet. Keeps to himself. A little on the eccentric side. But so’s Turtle, so that makes sense. He’s about ten years younger than us. Gay … I think. Doesn’t have any friends his age, but also doesn’t actively pursue them.
Except us, I guess?
Ethan peels his eyes from the TV. “Happy Home Pest Control. HHPC. The Myers’ business. They can handle the raccoon.”
“Oh, sweetie, I don’t think there’s a real raccoon,” says Lance. “Chad is just a big cute oaf, and I think the raccoon’s a metaphor.”
“We just got a raccoon out of our attic,” volunteers Tanner.
Then Lance has something smart to say, Tanner makes a snide remark about Chad being “extra feisty” tonight, Ethan laughs way too hard at that, and the imaginary raccoon outside the window is long forgotten. It’s just as well, because Billy shows up a second later from the kitchen with a tray of Italian-inspired finger foods that look like a tasty little marriage between tiny pizzas and fancy garlic breads.
I wonder suddenly if I should’ve invited Diego over, too.
Then I laugh that the notion even crossed my brain.
Seriously? Grumpy, hates-the-world Diego? Gobbling on these fancy-ass snacks? Watching a movie with a bunch of gay dudes? He’d sooner thank me for that toolbox I got him. Or apologize for holding an argument with me with his shirt off.