Page 18 of Structure of Love

Gage

I sat on the couch while pulling up a bad movie, because we—Zar, Asher, Riggs, and I—had decided it was the perfect night for a bad monster movie and junk food. It was howling outside like a banshee getting railed, the gusts of wind beating tree limbs against the house. Michigan winds could sometimes whip through the streets strongly enough to uproot trees.

I had stopped by for dinner since Asher had invited me over for meatloaf, but with this storm? I refused to leave anytime soon. Riggs was in the same boat. No one sane would drive in this.

I was also not overly bothered. I had to spend the night with my besties and eat junk food? Whomp whomp. Surely I’d survive the horror of it all.

Please read that with the appropriate level of sarcasm.

Riggs settled in next to me with the big bowl of popcorn. He was in serious slouch mode, having changed out of day clothes and into hangout clothes. Not a neat cardigan, but pajama pants and a ratty shirt with a hole in the hem. With his thick squareblack glasses perched on his nose, he gave strong I-don’t-give-a-fuck vibes. “So, it looks like we’re crashing here tonight.”

“I call dibs on the bed.” Asher had one guest bed.

“I want to share the bed.” Riggs’s brown eyes were on me, calculating.

“What are you offering?”

“Cuddles.”

I offered a hand, Riggs solemnly shook it, and a pact was made.

Realization struck and I stared at the bowl. “Wait, that’s not a bowl for all four of us to share, right?”

“Are you insane? I’m not sharing my popcorn. Get your own bowl.”

Fucking figured. Also, I loved how sharing a bed was no problem. But popcorn? Off limits. Grumbling, I handed him the remote and got up, heading for the kitchen. Apparently I had to make my own popcorn.

Asher was loading the dishwasher, Zar feeding BFG, because despite the fact that spoiled dog had gotten dinner, he now got snacks too. It was truly a miracle BFG didn’t weigh three hundred pounds. Zar was a soft touch. I mean, BFG was already two hundred just because he was a mastiff mixed with giant. I’d never seen a bigger dog in my life.

I fetched popcorn, threw the bag in the microwave, and scrounged up a bowl, then leaned against the counter as I waited on kernels to pop. We were all apparently in I-don’t-give-a-fuck territory. Asher was also in plaid pajama bottoms, and Zar had skipped pants and was in boxers and a too-big T-shirt. I felt overdressed in jeans.

My phone dinged in my pocket. I automatically pulled it out, checking. Oh, a text.

Oh, a text fromLogan.

I swear to god, if he canceled on me…

I opened the text, half dreading whatever it might say, but the message wasn’t even close to what I’d expected. It wasn’t a cancellation, or a demand for pics, or anything like that. It was an honest-to-god pre-date sort of text. The likes of which I couldn’t ever remember getting. I used to read over Zar’s shoulder as he sent some of these before he started dating Asher, which was the only reason I recognized what I was looking at.

Wow, I felt special right now.

Kryptonite:Hey handsome, you safely inside somewhere? This storm’s insane.

Oh my god. He’d thought of me, been concerned, and messaged. I was in danger of melting over here.

Me:Safely at Asher’s. I was thankfully here when the storm hit. You safe somewhere?

Kryptonite:Just got home. The drive was a bit hairy scary. I closed the bar for the night

Me:Good call. Glad you’re home. We’re doing bad monster movies to pass the time

Kryptonite:Oh, this is the perfect night for it

The microwave dinged, signaling my popcorn was ready. I put my phone down to fish it out, but I felt anxious to pick back up the phone. Watching a bad monster movie only slightly appealed. Texting Logan and flirting while I had a bad monster movie playing in the background? Golden idea, must execute.

I suddenly felt a chin on my shoulder. I knew precisely who it was without looking. “Asher, stop reading over my shoulder.”

“You’re smiling at the screen. I was wondering what meme you were looking at, but noooo, you’ve got a hot man texting you.” Asher stepped back, cackling like the little demented soul he was. He put a hand to his forehead, a blond courtier in danger of fainting. “Babe, he actually texted to make sure Gage was safe in the storm.”