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ME: You could say that, but I’m not going into detail here. It’s easier to talk about it than type it.
FOX: Okay. I can be at your room in ten, with reinforcements. What’s your poison?
ME: Tequila. Fuckloads thereof. Please. And thank you.
FOX. You got it. See you soon.
ME: Sure thing. Anyone else? What about the boring marrieds, or are you too whipped these days?
DREW: Joke’s on you, dude. I’m the one who has pussy on tap, from the girl of my dreams.
ME: Nightmares, you mean.
DREW: I’ll give you that. It was true back in the day. Not now, though.
ME: Okay, we get it. You’re whipped, AND punch-drunk on her love drug.
DREW: Ha! As if. You can mock, but that’s because you don’t know what you don’t know.
ME: Whatevs. I’ll take your word for it. You coming over, or not?
DREW: Maybe. I can neither confirm, nor deny.
ME: Anyone else. X? You’re quiet.
I didn’t hear anything back from him, but within two hours all the guys were at my room, and we were getting nicely lit. I’d told them what had happened with Coach and Ms. St George.
“So, is she hot?”
“What’s it to you? You bored of Rocky already?” Ordinarily I knew not to fuck with Xavier. He had his moments, but he really could be a humorless asshole the vast majority of the time. Today was no exception.
He gave me a long, hard look then popped a handful of chips into his mouth and chewed slowly and methodically—he even ate like a psycho—before washing them down with a shot of tequila.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. Mostly because as much as I’d love to separate your dumb jock head from your oversized jock body right now, I also just want to chill the fuck out and keep my ass on this couch, so that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to be the better man for once and just let shit roll over me—water off a duck’s back, just like Rocky suggested.”
So Rocky was actively trying to mellow him out. Interesting... I made a mental note to thank her for doing the world a solid, and decided not to poke the bear—no pun intended—anymore.
As much of an asshole as he could be, Xavier was right—I had enough to worry about without adding in-fights with the Cygnus guys to the list of shit currently raining down on me. I had way bigger fish to fry—like the Polaroid, Coach, and now Ms. St George.
“I’ll drink to that, man.” I downed a shot, wincing as the fiery liquid tore down my throat. “Just ignore me; I’m not thinking straight right now.”
“I don’t need to be told to ignore you; I already was.” Jesus, Mary and Joseph, he couldn’t just have me agree with him and let me off the hook. Everything always had to be on his terms. Not that this was a surprise to me. That was just how it was, and how it would always be. It was kind of my own fault for rattling his cage in the first place.
“Aye, aye, Captain.” I gave him a military salute and downed another shot. Everything seemed better after tequila. Xavier fired a death stare back.
“So is she hot?” Fox jumped in, clearly trying to lighten the mood by changing the subject.
“Who?” I might have been a little tequila-addled by that point.
“Who? Adriana-fucking-Lima.”
“What? Yeah she’s hot. We all know that, though—why are you asking?”
“For the love of Christ. I’m not. I’m talking about the chick from the newspaper.”
“Hahahaha. Okay. No. Yeah. Well, maybe. But like in a kind of ‘you’d maybe be hot if you took the fucking stick from your ass’ kind of way. Not in the regular hot girl way, you know?”
They all nodded sagely.
