Reid: Probably because you lesser men admired the tenting. #DaddyBigCock
Griffin: Don’t call yourself that.
Rogan: That was douchey.
Brig: Total douche.
Griffin: Then again, wouldn’t expect anything less from Reid. He’s always been the biggest douche in town.
Rogan: Bigger than Tracker, you think?
Brig: Tracker isn’t a douche, he’s a player.
Reid: I’m not a douche.
Griffin: Have you ever read the word douche too many times and want to add a KER to it? Like . . . ker-douche.
Rogan: No
Reid: Not once.
Brig: All the time. Ker-douche. Ker-douche. Ker-douche.
Rogan: Why do I say that out loud and think of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang?
Reid: I just said it out loud multiple times and thought the same thing.
Brig: Don’t bring Chitty into this. He does not deserve to be compared with a douche.
Jen: Do you know who’s a douche? That creepy toy-loving, twinkle-toes king. What a whack job.
Griffin: Never liked the guy.
Rogan: Who did?
Brig: Reid liked him.
Griffin: And that’s why Reid is a douche.
Brig: I love it when things come full circle.
Reid: Let me guess . . . makes your nipples hard?
Brig: Not as hard as your dick during the epic Knightly Kitchen Fire.
Griffin: Now it’s full circle.
Brig: *Old lady dance flossing GIF*
Rogan: *Monica Gellar bouncing beaded hair off breasts GIF*
Griffin: *Ron Swanson dancing into office GIF*
Jen: *SNL Target Lady raising the roof GIF*
Reid: *Will Smith scratching head while flipping the bird GIF*
“Hey Mom,” I say, walking into my childhood kitchen and planting a kiss on her cheek. “Smells good.” I look over her shoulder into the pot of my dad’s famous chili. “Does he know you’re touching it?”
“No, and you better not tell him.”
Chuckling, I ask, “Where is the old man?”
“Bathroom.” I watch as she secretly adds a few more dashes of onion powder into the mix and gives it a stir.
“Does he know you do that?”
“What do you think?” my mom asks, stepping away and acting as if she didn’t just toy with my dad’s prize-winning chili.
“Do you do that every time?”
She raises a brow and says, “Behind every great man is an even better woman, adding onion powder when the man is too stubborn to admit it’s needed.”
I let out a barrel of a laugh just as my dad walks into the kitchen. “Brig, how are you?”
“Good, Dad, how are you?”
“Feeling pretty great. Rogan was telling me about all the help you’ve been offering Ruth from Snow Roast. Awfully kind of you.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“Oh my, is there something going on I don’t know about?” Mom asks just as Rogan and Harper step inside from the deck.
“Nothing’s going on, but we’re friends. She’s my work neighbor and she’s trying to do all the renovations herself. Didn’t feel right knowing she was over there tearing up the floor alone.”
“Oh, you’re talking about Ruth,” Rogan says. “Did Brig tell you he’s running with her every morning? Been at it for a week now, right?”
“She’s stressed. Thought it would help her.”
Joining in, Harper says, “I caught Brig staring at her boobs the other day at Snow Roast after one of their runs.”
“Brig,” my dad says sharply. “We don’t stare at breasts unless they belong to us. I married your mother, therefore I get to stare at her boobs whenever I want. But you need to put a ring on it first.”
“I wasn’t staring at her boobs,” I say, even though I know it’s a lie.
“I have photographic evidence,” Harper says, with a pop of her hip.
“Ugh, fine, I might have been staring, but they were all glistening, and those bras she wears . . . hell, they make her boobs all perky. Anyway, it’s hard not to stare, okay?”
“I don’t have a problem with it,” Rogan says with a smirk.
“That’s because you already have a pair to stare at.” I point to Harper.
“Still can resist.”
“Whatever,” I say like a petulant child, as I grab a can of Sprite from the fridge and head to the table. “Are we going to plan out this rehearsal dinner or what?”
“Not quite yet,” Mom says, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I want to know more about this relationship with Ruth. I always thought you two would be the perfect couple.” Wait . . . what? Since when—
“I think everyone in town thinks that,” Rogan mutters while taking a seat.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Rogan says while Harper elbows him in the arm.
“Wouldn’t they be cute together?” Mom asks Dad.
He’s busy stirring his chili when he says, “Yeah, sure. They’re wonderful.”
My mom waves at my dad, dismissing him. “Have you asked her out?”
“What? No.” I shake my head. “She’s my friend, Mom. Plus, I’m sort of seeing someone.”
Rogan snorts and Harper elbows him again.
“I am.”
“Are you?” Rogan asks. “If you’re seeing someone, tell me what she looks like.”
“Oh yes, do you have a picture?” Mom asks with excitement. “It’s been so long since you’ve dated. I’m glad you’re finally at it again.”
“I don’t have a picture.” I clear my throat. “I don’t technically know who she is.”
“What?” Mom asks as Dad hums about his cornbread being the best cornbread there is. “How do you not know who she is?”
Hating the giant smirk on Rogan’s face—this was his idea anyway—I say, “It’s a program Mrs. Davenport created called the Summer of Love. Basically, people applied, she matched them up, and we send letters to each other. I don’t know who she is, but after a week of letters, I can already feel myself getting captivated by her.”
Insane, I know, but sometimes when you know, you know. I can feel my mind maturing, because I’ll do everything in my power to hold on to this, to nurture it, and make sure I bring this relationship to life. I’ve never felt this before.
And then I’ll be cured.
No one can stop our relationship morphing from letter writing into a true, full-fledged relationship. SPP is my future, thank fuck. There is no way I can fail. No way she won’t be mine.
“What if it’s Walter tricking you again?”
“I asked Mrs. Davenport if the girl was real. She said very much real and that she actually lives here in Port Snow. She said she shouldn’t have told me that, but she was so excited about our match. It gave me relief, knowing she’s a real person and I’m not being tricked.”
“Oh how exciting. I wonder who it could be.” Mom taps her chin. “Maybe Mrs. Farrel’s granddaughter. She moved here for the summer and is considering staying to help out at the gas station.”
“She has a granddaughter?” I ask as Harper and Rogan whisper to each other. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but they’re making a big enough deal to distract me. “Care to share?” I ask.