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The pair of them burst into hysterics. Yeah, okay, but it’s not that funny.
“Oh, fuck. You’re serious. Yeah, no. You can’t do that and if you don’t know why, I’m not going to let Casey say yes to you,” Logan says, crossing his arms.
“I don’t have the same stakes in the Sutterchuck ship as my husband does, but yeah, it’s gotta be you,” Rhett agrees.
I rub a hand over my face. I down some more beer.
“Is it something that can be done through text?”
Logan shakes his judge-y head. “Yeah, you’re a dick, Sutter. If you do that, I’m canceling you.”
“Tell me how, then.”
“I can’t. It’s gotta be something very you two.”
“We don’t have anything ‘us two’. We get naked, I pound his ass, we pass out until his stomach wakes us up, I feed him, we do it all again.”
“Yeah, that’s lame. You can’t do that. Maybe do something opposite of you two,” Logan says.
“Or you could make him his favorite meal,” Rhett says.
“Yeah, do that,” Logan agrees. “You’re so good at being romantic, baby.” Logan plants a kiss on his cheek. They link their stupid pinkies as if it’s some secret love language between them. I’ll never be that fucking sappy, so help me God.
They’re still in their honeymoon phase, and they didn’t get an actual honeymoon yet, so I let their disgustingness go. Plus, I think they’re onto something.
“I’d better not have to tell you his favorite meal,” Logan threatens.
“Poutine,” I say. Logan’s mouth opens to tell me off. “Just fucking with you. Most people think that because of the tattoo, but that’s not why he has the tattoo, even though he does love poutine. It’s mac ‘n’ cheese—specifically four boxes of Kraft Dinner mac ‘n’ cheese—with a Northwest Territories-sized serving of ketchup on it. Not just any ketchup either, French’s. Don’t overcook the noodles, either, or he’ll blow a gasket and refuse to speak to you for the rest of the night.”
Ask me how I fucking know.
Rhett shivers. “Every time I see him pull out that ketchup bottle,blech. That’s how I know it’s true love for you, Mitchell.”
Kitten
You haven’t responded. What have they done to you? Oh, God, is Rhett gloating about his stats again? ISTFG, his head’s gonna explode if it gets any bigger.
I’m still caught on that word Rhett said.Love.Am I in love with Casey? I can’t be. I’ve been actively preventing that from happening. You only fall in love if you want to and I sure as fuck don’t want to.
Wish you were fucking here, kitten …I type, but I don’t send it. I delete and prepare to type something else, but I get a text from him instead.
Kitten
Remember the shit I needed to deal with? That’s this week. I’ll be radio silent, jsyk.
Wait, what the fuck? He’s for real about that? He doesn’t even wanna talk to me? I know he said it’s personal shit, which implied it wasn’t to do with me, but this makes me feel like it is to do with me. Fine.
Me
Yeah. Do you, man.
I shove my phone into my pocket. I can’t deal with relationship shit, and this is exactly why I don’t. Now I’m in a bad fucking mood. I look around the room for an exit, as if I don’t know where the one door to Rhett’s apartment is.
“Whoa, Mitchell. You alright?” Rhett says.
I scrub my hands over my face and take a breath. This is why Casey and I are fuck buddies. If he wants to leave, he can leave. No skin off my back. “Yeah, fine. I think it’s time for me to go, though.”
They’re analyzing me—my coiled muscles and grinding teeth, hands curling into fists, itching to punch something. Rhett opens his mouth to say something but closes it instead.
