Page 51 of Finley

As he filled his bowl, Daniel winked and then picked the milk up. “Don’t lie. That was my shorts.”

“You’re probably right. They really were indecent.”

“Bet you’re wishing I still had them, though, aren’t you?”

Brantley scoffed and went back to reading. “Shut up and eat, would you?”

Daniel shoveled a spoonful of Cheerios in his mouth, and when Brantley reached for his orange juice and took a sip, he remembered to ask, “Oh, did you call Posh Spice back?”

Brantley coughed, and it sounded as if he were choking, but he managed to swallow the juice and then ask, “Who?”

Daniel waggled his eyebrows and sat back in his chair. “Professor Jordan Devaney—a.k.a. Posh Spice.”

As Brantley’s eyes widened, Daniel finished his mouthful and then pointed with his spoon. “That’s what Derek and I called him through college.”

Brantley’s slack jaw was comical as his mouth moved like he was trying to form words but nothing was coming out.

“You know—the flashy clothes, the attitude, that awesome swing he has to his hips.”

Finally over his shock, Brantley folded the newspaper and placed it on the table. “And dare I ask what you called me?”

Daniel licked his lower lip and looked over the top of his sunglasses. “Oh, you had many names inmyhead, but none I was going to share with Derek. From memory, though, he always referred to you as ProfessorHottie.”

“He did not.”

“Yep. He did.” Daniel sat back, finished with his cereal, and raised his orange juice to his lips. “What about you two? Don’t tell me you didn’t talk about us, because I won’t believe you.”

Brantley shrugged. “We may have.”

“See,” Daniel said. “Spill.”

“He used to call Derek He-Man. Still does.”

“Well, it’s certainly fitting with his line of work. But I’m not sure he’d enjoy the comparison.”

“Doesn’t really matter. It’s not like Jordan would ever be caught dead setting foot into a gym like Pearson’s. He’s more the yoga type than the bench-press type. Though he has complained recently he’d like to have abs like Ryan Reynolds.”

“See? Maybe Jordan needs a little Derekinhim,” Daniel said with a wink.

When Brantley threw his napkin at him, he held his hands up.

“I meant in his life, of course.”

“Of course.”

“You know…might be fun to all go out one night.”

“Ahh, I don’t think so.”

“Why?” Daniel asked.

Brantley screwed his nose up. “We just have very different friends. That’s all.”

“Hmm. Are you sure? Or is it because we’re younger?”

Brantley rolled his eyes. “No, nothing like that. I swear.”

“Okay. Fair enough. You’d know better than I would. So,” Daniel said as he tapped his fingers on the table, “what do you have to do today?”