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John makes a choking sound. “Gross! Chelsea—that better not be something you do in my loft. No nudity!”
“You want me to shower in my clothes?”
John makes another sound. This time more like gagging. I cover my mouth so he doesn’t hear me laughing. This is too good. Serves him right.
“No! But just—ugh. Enough with this line of conversation.”
“You never know. I could be a total home nudist.”
Is that a thing? It is now!
It sounds like John dropped the phone, but I can still hear him. Is he actually dry heaving? I don’t bother hiding my laughter now.
I’m definitelynotthe kind of person who walks around naked. But John doesn’t know that! And I totally could have been indecent when Mason arrived. I may not walk around stark naked but I do often forget clothes in the dryer and might retrieve them in just a towel. Everyone does. It’s like a basic human thing.
I make a mental note to buy a full coverage bathrobe or something just in case I find myself in that particular situation in the coming months.
John returns to the phone. “Moving on.”
“You don’t want to talk about nudity anymore?”
“Chelsea!”
I laugh. “Fine. What now? Any other surprises?”
“Remember how I said you could stay in my loft, but it would mean calling in a favor?”
My skin starts to crawl. I like this topic of conversation even less than John liked the last one. I knew giving John the equivalent of a favor blank check wasn’t a good idea. But living in his nice loft rent-free for six months was too good to pass up.
“Yessss.”
“I’m calling in my favor.”
“Great.” Not great. Not evengood. It’s going to be bad. I can tell just by the tone of his voice. There’s far too much glee. But I can’t even imagine what he might ask of me.
“And remember—you promised.”
Promises are to my brother a totally binding thing. Break a promise, and you’re pretty much dead to him. “I remember.”
“Are you ready?” he asks.
“Not even a little bit.”
“Drumroll, please.” John makes a sound that’s nothing at all like a drum.
“Are you impersonating a machine gun?”
“Shut up.”
“I will, when you make a real drum sound.”
John makes an exasperated noise, then tries again.
“Better. But there’s still room for improvement. I give it a solid three-point-five out of ten. Maybe if you—”
He interrupts loudly “As payment for living rent-free in my amazing loft for the next six months while I’m gone, enjoying all the luxuries of downtown Austin living and my top-of-the-line kitchen, plus—”
“John! Spit it out!”
