Page 25

“F.W.B.?” Rusty asked .

Gem tried to cover his horror over the Pyclon’s ignorance but probably failed miserably. “Friends with benefits.”

“Oh. Is that supposed to be a secret? ’Cause if Toni’s trying to be subtle, he’s doing a really bad job,” Rusty said, and Gem snorted out a laugh.

“I know, right? But he tries so hard. It’s precious, really.” Since Gem was painting both of Rusty’s hands simultaneously, he finished quickly and moved on to Rusty’s toes. “Okay, you go now.”

Inspecting his still wet claws, Rusty cocked his head, one ear folding down. “Go where?”

“No, like, it’s your turn to offer up some gossip.”

“Oh.” Rusty shifted, hissing when Gem smacked his leg. “Dude!”

“Stop moving! You’re ruining my artwork. Also,” Gem tittered, “I can’t remember the last time someone called me dude . That’s so not my brand. I’m more of a guuuuurl! ” He drew out the word, adding extra flair to his voice.

“I’m never uttering that word in that cadence,” Rusty said flatly. “Ever.”

Gem rolled the eyes he wasn’t using to perfect Rusty’s largest toenail. “Anyway, what’s the tea? What’s the hot goss from the early morning shift?”

Like he tasted something bad, Rusty’s face wrinkled. “I try to stay out of gossip.”

“That’s a lie if I ever heard one. You’re just as nosy as I am; you just act like you’re not.” Gem pointed the wet tip of the brush at Rusty’s nose. “At least I’m honest about it.”

With a boop , he swiped Rusty’s nose with the brush, smearing it with polish. He cackled at Rusty’s annoyed growl.

“Real mature,” Rusty griped as he used his shirt to clean his nose. “But seriously, there isn’t any… tea to spill.”

Rusty’s expression and tone matched that of someone being tortured as he uttered the word, “tea,” and Gem laughed again, blinking away humored tears so he could see what he was doing. He pointed at Rusty’s pinky toe. “Can I do this one in color?”

“Do you have to?”

“Yes,” Gem insisted, and Rusty released a long-suffering sigh.

“I guess. Just nothing too bright.”

Choosing a deep, dark purple, Gem brandished it like a game show prize. “How’s this?” When Rusty nodded his consent, Gem hunkered back down and painted both his pinky toenails purple. “Okay, but do you have any type of gossip? How are we supposed to kiki if you don’t have stories?”

“Sometimes, I hate the words that come out of your mouth,” Rusty confessed.

“Say, ‘kiki,’” Gem instructed, and Rusty flipped him off. “Say, ‘Guuuurl, let’s kiki.’”

“I would literally rather die.”

Instead of gracing that with a response, Gem straightened and stoppered the nail polish before offering Rusty all of his hands, fingers dancing. “My turn!”

“This is gonna take forever.” Rusty gestured to Gem’s many hands, even as he reached for a jar, hesitating at the last second. “Wait, what color is which?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just choose what looks good to you,” Gem said, and though Rusty looked incredulous, he picked a muted, minty green.

“Your funeral,” he murmured as he took Gem’s top hand and painted his pinky nail. Moving between hands, he slicked each pinky the same color, then retrieved a light purple and started on Gem’s ring fingers .

To fill the silence, Gem rambled. He wasn’t even sure what he was rambling about, but the look of concentration on Rusty’s face as he carefully and meticulously painted Gem’s nails was doing things to him.

Annoying things. Sexy things. And Gem had no idea how to handle those thoughts when he was this blitzed.

So he prattled on about everything and nothing.

By the time the nails of all six hands—except his thumbs—were painted alternating greens and purples, he realized he’d been talking at length about the sex party he’d attended when he was twenty-three where he’d gotten spit-roasted twice by two different pairs of twins.

Normally, he was very proud of that story, but since Rusty hadn’t spoken a word in the past ten minutes, Gem pressed his lips together, swallowing down his next bout of word vomit.

Wiping the brush of the nail polish on the bottle to remove the excess, Rusty finally glanced up from Gem’s nails and cocked his head. “Then what?”

“Hmm?” Gem asked, chin resting on his raised knees.

“You stopped in the middle of your story,” Rusty said as he painted Gem’s thumb.

“Well, I’ve been talking for ages. I don’t wanna annoy you.”

Rusty frowned but didn’t look up. “It’s not annoying. I like listening to you talk.”

The words shouldn’t have punched through Gem’s chest the way they did, and it took him an extra second to reply. “You do?”

“It’s not like I have much to say,” Rusty said with a sly smirk. “Keep going. What happened with the second set of twins?”

Feeling warm and tingly and flustered, Gem pressed his chin harder into his knees and said, “I dated them both for three weeks, but I may have thought they were the same person the whole time. When we all realized it, they were not impressed.”

Rusty burst into laughter, and Gem joined him, giggling deliriously into his kneecaps. The Pyclon’s rough laugh flitted over Gem’s skin, sinking into his bones, and he fought a shiver.

Poking Rusty’s knee with his tarsal claw, Gem said, “Okay, your turn. Tell me something you’ve never told anyone.”

“Is that part of girl-talk too?”

“Yes.”

Another husky chuckle. “Okay. It’s not a secret, exactly, but on slow nights on Flesh Street, I used to dress more femme. Like skirts and corsets and shit.”

Gem narrowed his eyes doubtfully. “You did not.”

Rusty nodded. “I did. I don’t know if it was the pink fur or if a lot of customers just had a feminization kink, but business would always pick up.”

Nearly causing Rusty to spill polish, Gem grabbed him by the biceps. “Be so fucking for real right now.”

“I’m being so fucking for real,” Rusty deadpanned.

With an excited screech, Gem rubbed Rusty’s arms almost violently. “If you ever want to borrow a dress, girl, I got you covered.”

That made Rusty laugh again, and he shook his head as he moved on to Gem’s third thumb. “Nah, it’s not really my thing. I just did it for the tips.”

Releasing his arms, Gem sat back and studied Rusty from furry ear to paw. “I just can’t picture it. But I’m sure you pulled it off.”

“Godsdamned right I did,” Rusty said with a wink. “Your turn. Tell me something no one else knows. ”

“I don’t know if I have a secret that can top you in a corset,” Gem admitted as he wracked his brain. “Technically, this is also not a secret, but when I was twelve, I went through a saggy jeans phase.”

Utter delight brightened Rusty’s expression. “No fucking way.”

Biting his bottom lip, Gem nodded. “Yeah, it got bad. Loose, saggy jeans and oversized t-shirts. And…” He shook his head, unable to voice the last part.

“And?” Rusty prompted, sounding like his birthday had come early.

“And wide-brimmed caps,” Gem confessed, pantomiming above his head, “angled to the side!”

“Oh my gods, that’s worse than the frosted tips,” Rusty cackled.

“You think I don’t know that?” Gem wailed, covering his face with his top hands.

“I went through my parents’ house and burned every picture I could find from my twelfth year of life, and now, I just try to convince everyone that I magically jumped from eleven to thirteen.

Since there is literally no evidence that I was ever twelve years old, it’s actually worked a few times. ”

Arm wrapped around his stomach, Rusty curled inward as he laughed. Gem giggled along with him, face aflame with embarrassment.

“I can’t picture it,” he finally said, “but I think it’s safe to say you didn’t pull it off.”

Gem shook his head, hands still steepled in front of his mouth. “I did not . It’s one of my deepest shames. Almost worse than my cow closet.”

Rusty’s laughter died instantly as his eyes widened. Gem froze, hand slapped over his mouth, horror washing over him.

“Cow closet?” Rusty echoed.

“That doesn’t sound like a real thing,” Gem mumbled.

Rusty grinned mischievously. “I think you said cow closet. ”

“I definitely didn’t say cow closet,” Gem lied. Badly.

Sucking his teeth, Rusty twisted the cap back onto the polish bottle. “Gem, is that your cow closet?” His thumb jabbed over his shoulder, toward Gem’s very cow-themed closet.

“No,” Gem lied again. Also badly.

They stared at each other for a never-ending moment before Rusty turned and scrambled off the bed.

With a battle cry, Gem lunged forward to stop him, but the Pyclon was faster than he expected.

Dark pink fur slipped through Gem’s fingers as Rusty rolled, landing on the floor on all fours.

Then, laughing wildly, he scrabbled toward the closet, all while Gem clumsily chased him down.

“No, don't!” Gem lamented as Rusty yanked the closer door open and stumbled inside.

Given his keen eyesight even in the dark, Rusty immediately found the dangling string to the lone bulb on the ceiling and tugged it on. On the threshold, Gem stopped and blanketed his face with two hands, peeking through his fingers as Rusty took in the closet.

The black and white splotched wallpaper.

The shelves of cow figurines in various materials.

The artwork. The bobble-heads. The keychains.

The collages that Gem had made himself. And looming in the corner, the stuffed cow he’d custom-ordered from a questionable human website that probably stole his identity and ruined his credit score.

“Whoa,” Rusty said, and Gem fidgeted with the hem of his tank top, wiping the sweat from his lowest palms on his jammie shorts.