Page 84
Story: Play Maker
I’d laugh if I didn’t know he was being serious. I sit down instead.
“She’s notyourpregnant woman,” I offer.
“And my hands are not”—he stops abruptly and, for once, seems to ponder his thoughts before speaking—“actually the babes I’m picturing while rubbing one out, but, yet it gets the job done in a pinch.” He sighs and crosses his arms. “But Hart, Boone, and now you are all coupled up, and it’s putting thoughts in my head.”
I smirk and take a slow sip. “You jealous of our?—”
“No. Sort of?” He sighs. “A little. The bed’s squeaky, the walls are thin. If I hear so much as a zipper tonight, I will throw a shoe at your door.”
Amused and unable to help myself, I toss him a throw pillow. “Sleep on this. You sound tense.”
“I’m writingone morerule,” he mutters, scribbling away.
Rule #8
Grimes owes me a therapeutic hooker when I move out and can’t unhear that kind of trauma.
I’m laughing when there’s a knock on the door, and it opens behind me.
Luke Lane walks in. “Skinner, you wanna go grab some groceries with me?”
“Fuck yes, I do.” He stands up and looks at me. “You wanna come?”
“Doing laundry, including yours,” I remind him.
“Shoot me a list?” Skinner asks.
“Brown rice, eggs, chicken breast and thighs, broccoli and spinach, and yeah, more eggs. You need me to text that?” I ask.
“Nah, he’s got it.” Luke winks.
“No jerky?”
“Get mine delivered monthly,” I answer.
“Beef?” Luke asks.
“Mostly, yeah.”
“Have you ever had venison jerky?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Bring you some back.”
* * *
I’m folding towels when the door opens, and I expect to see Lo walk in, but it’s not. It’s Ava.
“Hey Grimes.”
“Hi, uh, Ava. You just missed Luke. He?—”
“I’m here to unofficially see you.”
“Unofficially?”
She holds up her hand and makes a really fucked-up hand signal that is pretty fucking lewd. “This isn’t me spanking it. Contrary to talk, I’ve heard I don’t have a dick. This is me shaking a can of spray paint.” She bends down and does … something? “And this is me drawing a line.” She tosses her imaginary spray can over her shoulder and takes a giant step over it. “And this is me?—”
“She’s notyourpregnant woman,” I offer.
“And my hands are not”—he stops abruptly and, for once, seems to ponder his thoughts before speaking—“actually the babes I’m picturing while rubbing one out, but, yet it gets the job done in a pinch.” He sighs and crosses his arms. “But Hart, Boone, and now you are all coupled up, and it’s putting thoughts in my head.”
I smirk and take a slow sip. “You jealous of our?—”
“No. Sort of?” He sighs. “A little. The bed’s squeaky, the walls are thin. If I hear so much as a zipper tonight, I will throw a shoe at your door.”
Amused and unable to help myself, I toss him a throw pillow. “Sleep on this. You sound tense.”
“I’m writingone morerule,” he mutters, scribbling away.
Rule #8
Grimes owes me a therapeutic hooker when I move out and can’t unhear that kind of trauma.
I’m laughing when there’s a knock on the door, and it opens behind me.
Luke Lane walks in. “Skinner, you wanna go grab some groceries with me?”
“Fuck yes, I do.” He stands up and looks at me. “You wanna come?”
“Doing laundry, including yours,” I remind him.
“Shoot me a list?” Skinner asks.
“Brown rice, eggs, chicken breast and thighs, broccoli and spinach, and yeah, more eggs. You need me to text that?” I ask.
“Nah, he’s got it.” Luke winks.
“No jerky?”
“Get mine delivered monthly,” I answer.
“Beef?” Luke asks.
“Mostly, yeah.”
“Have you ever had venison jerky?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Bring you some back.”
* * *
I’m folding towels when the door opens, and I expect to see Lo walk in, but it’s not. It’s Ava.
“Hey Grimes.”
“Hi, uh, Ava. You just missed Luke. He?—”
“I’m here to unofficially see you.”
“Unofficially?”
She holds up her hand and makes a really fucked-up hand signal that is pretty fucking lewd. “This isn’t me spanking it. Contrary to talk, I’ve heard I don’t have a dick. This is me shaking a can of spray paint.” She bends down and does … something? “And this is me drawing a line.” She tosses her imaginary spray can over her shoulder and takes a giant step over it. “And this is me?—”
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