Page 116 of Pretty Thing

“When the fuck did you get back?”

Poor Matt seems genuinely confused. God bless him.

“Fuck, man, are you blind? I’ve been sitting here for an hour,” I say with fake annoyance.

“You have?”

“Yes. I was only gone fifteen minutes. I could’ve robbed you blind.”

Matt runs his hand through his hair.

“Shit…totally zoned out. Sorry. Here you can be me for a bit. I’m starving.”

I open the lid on the pizza box and point like I’m emphasizing how utterly oblivious he is.

“You already ate the entire pizza. I only got one slice.”

“And? Snooze you lose. Besides, it’s a lot of work saving the world from zombies.”

I roll my eyes at the ridiculous notion.

“Whatever.”

I play as Matt while he hunts for snacks, but my phone is open to the glowing blue dot showing Eden safely at the club. Phase one complete.

When the clock hits eleven, I yawn.

“Dude, you’re not really tired, are ya?” Matt looks at me with disgust.

“Eh! Give me a break. It was a really long weekend with Eden,” I say with a sly smile.

Matt picks up on the little sexual innuendo and laughs.

“About time. I’m surprised your dick still knows how to work. Did you have to give it a kickstart?”

He moves his hand like he’s jerking off.

Shaking my head, I peel myself out of the gaming chair and stretch my back.

“No, I didn’t. My dick is doing better than yours,” I jab back. “How is your swollen, oozing, and unusable cock, these days?”

“Fuck off, man…that last ladder bar just doesn’t want to heal.”

He shifts around on the chair as if the reminder of the piercing is enough to make him uncomfortable.

I snort. “You already have six. Why must you have seven?”

Matt looks at me like I’m stupid.

“Because it’s the number seven. That’s my lucky number. I was born July seventh. I thought that was obvious.”

“This is the third time you’ve tried, and at this rate, you’ll end up with a worse infection, and the doctor will have to cut it off. How lucky will you feel when you’re cockless and spending the rest of your life fantasizing about the days when you used to have sex?” I smirk.

“You say some of the cruelest shit to me,” Matt says, staring down at his track pants.

“Just remove it, let it heal, and put a tattoo of something lucky instead. Just don’t ask me to tattoo your dick, we’re not that good of friends.”

I actually will if he really wants me to, but I’m not telling him that. Matt’s eyes dart up to me.