“The other week... You promised we’d do it again. But you went to Jane. When I was right there.”
Jane?
I groan. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to push the friendship. It’s weird, isn’t it? Normal friends don’t hump each other with their clothes on.”
Em sighs. “Our entire friendship is weird. We’re not normal, Colt.”
We sit in silence for a minute and I’m sure she’s fallen asleep again when she speaks. “Besides, it’s fun. What’s a little mutual gratification between friends, right?”
Slamming the car into drive, I race down the street. The sudden urgency to get home so intense, I might explode.
Em chuckles. “I guess you agree, then?”
“Remember, you asked for it.”
She shrugs. “I can handle it.”
16
Emerson
“Dad’s birthday is this weekend,” Colt says, staring at his tattoo while I fry eggs for breakfast.
These chickens have totally been worth the effort. I was reluctant at first, because chickens in a one-room apartment wouldn’t be easy, but after watching Colt stuff his face with a family-sized bucket of crispy chicken pieces, I softened. Someone has to stand up for the little chirpers.
And after spending four days trying to build a coop, and screwing it up each time, Colt finally got it set up and we could move the chickens from the bathtub to the balcony. We get two eggs a day from them and if we don’t eat them daily, they add up fast and we end up with more than we need.
Colt wanted to egg Rome’s car for encouraging Austin to sleep with me. I convinced him to let me take the eggs to The Brew instead. They serve breakfast and it might force Keely to talk to me.
She stills gives me the cold shoulder. Austin telling her to be civil didn’t make a difference to the way she acts around me.
“Are we going back to see him?”
“He doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but yeah, I’d like to see him. Maybe just for the weekend.”
I slide four eggs onto Colt’s plate and one onto mine.
“Okay. I’ll tell work. They owe me some time off, anyway.”
Reaching into the cupboard above the counter, I pull out two glasses and pour orange juice into each one. By the time I turn around, Colt has finished eating his eggs and the two pieces of toast I hadn’t buttered yet.
“Hungry?”
He dumps his plate in the sink before downing both glasses of juice. “Got to go. Going to be late.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have a date before class,” Colt calls out as the bathroom door closes. The shower turns on a few seconds later, so I busy myself with making the bed and cleaning the dishes.
By the time I’m done, Colt is out and pulling on a pair of basketball shorts.
“Who’s your date?”
“Ethel.” He grins.
I arch an eyebrow. That’s new. “Who’s Ethel?”
“The little old lady I took out for coffee a few weeks ago.”
I lean against the wall and purse my lips. “Umm...”
“I ran into her the other day when I was walking Clyde and Jordan. She loves them and she asked me why I never called. The guilt was real, man. What sort of person would I be if I took a lovely woman’s phone number and never called her?”
I stare at him in disbelief. “You’d be you. That’s what you do.”
He picks up his keys, and fusses with his hair in the mirror. “Ethel is a sweetheart. She deserves better than that. So, I’m taking her out for coffee and then I’ll take her back to her place and clean her pipes.”
I screw my face up and bury it in my hands, trying to rid my mind of the images playing on repeat like a bad porno in my head. I gag. “Colt, please tell me you’re joking? She’s old!”
He comes over and cups my face in his hands. “I’m completely serious.”
I blanch. I can feel the color drain from my face. Colt’s eyes are alight with amusement; a smirk toys at the corner of his lips. “Well, I guess... Umm. Whatever floats your boat.” My eyebrows pull together and I’m at a loss for words. “Everyone has a kink, I suppose.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Relax. You’re still the only one that can get my motor running. I’m cleaning her pipes for real. Her kitchen sink is blocked.”
He jumps back out of reach with a laugh as I try to punch his shoulder, and leaves.
Mr. James is beyond surprised when we pull into his drive. He rushes out to the car and wraps his arms around both of us.
Colt hadn’t told him we were coming because he didn’t want to make a promise that he couldn’t keep. So we kept it a surprise.
“What are you doing here?” He laughs in excitement.
“It’s your birthday. Couldn’t miss it,” Colt says, pulling him in for a hug.
“Happy birthday, Mr. James.” I hug him and press a kiss to his cheek, breathing him in. He smells like home. Funny that. Mr. James is more my home than the place next door. Averting my gaze, I don’t want to look toward my parents’ house, the memories too painful.
“Thanks, sweetheart. I can’t believe you’re both here. Come on. Get inside.” He throws his arm around my waist and leads me into the house.
We leave Colt at the car to take care of our bags. “How’s that son of mine? Behaving?”
“I keep him out of trouble.”
Inside, I sit in the kitchen while Mr. James makes coffee and serves cake, and Colt takes our stuff upstairs to his room.
I’m laughing at a joke Mr. James makes when Colt walks in.
Colt leans over me and wipes his finger through my frosting. “Where’d the cake come from?”
I slap his hand away.
Mr. James shrugs. “It was your mom’s favorite. I was getting ready to have a quiet birthday by myself, and when I saw this cake in the window of the cake shop, I bought it. Figured if I was going to be alone on my birthday, at least I could eat your mom’s favorite cake and feel close to her.”
I give him a sad smile and pat his hand. That he thought he’d be alone on his birthday is heartbreaking. “That’s sweet. But you know we’d never let you celebrate your birthday alone.”
Mr. James grins. “I know.”
“Where’s mine?” Colt reaches for my cake again.
“You know where the plates are,” his dad says with a gruff voice and sips his coffee. “Don't think because you’re visiting you get special treatment.”
Colt crosses his arms over his chest and arches an eyebrow. “Did Em have to get her own cake?”
“Of course not. She’s my guest,” Mr. James teases.
I grin and stick my tongue out at Colt.
“She’s no more a guest than I am,” Colt grumbles, more to himself than anyone else as he cuts a piece of cake and makes his own damn coffee. His words. I stifle a laugh. He’s like a petulant child.
“So, what are we doing tonight?” Mr. James asks hopefully, glancing between Colt and me.
“It’s a surprise,” I say.