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“Yeah, real fancy just like you.”
“Wine now?”
He shakes his head. “No, I need to keep my wits about me around you. You have a way of making me do things I wouldn’t normally do.”
“Like what?”
“Like sleeping in bed with you for starters.”
“Ah yes, and getting married. To a man. I’m quite persuasive like that.”
He shakes his head before leaning it back on the lounger. “Seems so. So no more alcohol. Makes me do crazy things.”
“But it goes so well with the cheese and salami, Matthew. It brings out the flavors.” I reach for my wine glass and hand it over to him. “Go on, try it.”
He takes a tentative sip and smacks his lips. “Yeah, alright. It is good.”
“Told you. I’m always right.”
“Maybe this one time.”
“No, all the time, Matthew. You’ll see. Just you wait.”
Chapter Six
Matt
“Where the fuck have you been?” Mitch barks, aggressively throwing the basketball at me. I catch it, but my palms sting from the impact. “And where the fuck is Max lately, huh? What the hell is going on with you two?”
I shrug, feeling my body heat at the angry words falling from his mouth. I don’t blame him though. But where I’d feel hurt and maybe demand answers, Mitch just explodes. He’s close to that point, or he’s tipped over it entirely. I won’t know until I’m hit with the debris of his emotional outburst.
“You’ll have to ask Max what’s up with him,” I hedge. “But me, I’ve been busy with life, man.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been ignoring my fucking calls.”
“I’ve been busy, Mitch. I’m sorry.”
He scoffs as I shoot a basket, the whoosh of the net satisfying to my ears.
“Yeah, well I thought you were like sick or some shit. So I went by your apartment to check on you and the landlord was inside cleaning your place out.”
I freeze and glance at him, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I moved.”
“Since fucking when?”
“A few days ago. Shit, Mitch. The truth is, I’m drowning in debt, okay? I found a roommate to try and pull myself out of the hole I’m in.”
Mitch’s eye twitches, but he nods. “You know, you can always come to me for this stuff.”
Do I know that? I don’t know. And even if I did, would I go to him in a crisis? Probably not.
“I’ll be fine. I’m working it out.”
He nods and then runs a hand across his shaved head. “You and Max just fucked off out of nowhere, and I…” His voice trails off. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just play some ball.”
He grabs the basketball from me and lobs it at me once more, less aggressively this time, but still with some pent-up frustration.
“Did you join the soccer team?” I ask, trying to make conversation.
