“Sayin’ I love you…” I start, singing out the opening lyrics of “More Than Words” by Extreme.
Omar bursts into laughter, clapping. “Oh my god, I haven’t heard that song in ages!”
Sam looks confused. “I don’t know that song.”
Anders and I stop playing and look at him like he has a second head.
“What the fuck, dude?”
“Unacceptable.”
“Damn near illegal.”
“That’s it, you’re banned from the family,” Anders says, dramatically pointing away from the warm circle we’ve made around the fire. “Out into the wilderness you go.”
Like most nights, we can hear the horses whinny out on the property next door, and Sam’s grin takes over his face. “Oh no, whatever will I do? Wherever will I go for shelter? I might have to walk over to our friendly neighborhood ranch and throw myself at Trip’s feet, begging him to let me stay. It’d be a damn shame if we had to share his bed because, you know, the couch is probably uncomfortable.”
Anders and I look at each other, simultaneously rolling our eyes.
“No, dude,” I say, shaking my head. “What we’re gonna do is stop falling for straight people.”
Anders pops his brows. “I bet Trip knows ‘More Than Words.’”
Samuel pulls out his phone, calling Anders’ bluff. “I don’t know, let me see.”
My mouth drops open. “Since when do you have his phone number?”
“Since he saved me from the rattlesnakes.”
Anders looks as affronted as I feel. “Dude, we were there too. We saved you just as much as he did.”
“I already had your phone numbers.”
“Damn, that’s cold,” Omar says, cracking up at us.
Turning his phone over to give us each a withering glare, Samuel asks, “Did any of you jump the fence onyourstallion to rescue me? Did any of you take a nearly impossible shot from your seat upon said stallion to kill the snake about to strike my face? And did any of you walk me out of danger in a bridal carry?”
More eye-rolling ensues, and then we both grumble out a reluctantno.
“That’s what I thought,” he says, refocusing on his phone.
Anders and I catch eyes, communicating silently while we wait for Trip’s response. A few seconds later, a notification that sounds suspiciously like galloping horses fires off.
“Is that your Trip-specific text notification?” I ask, ribbing Samuel.
“So what if it is? Again, I ask: did you save my life? No? Then you don’t get your own ringtone.”
“Dude. We totally saved your life,” Anders says, gesturing his thumb back and forth between him and Omar.
“Whatever. Remind me to set your notification to ‘Hero,’” he says as he swipes up a few lines, laughing aloud. “He has no idea what y’all are talking about. Though he did say that his father, who is older than you, was also offended by the fact that he didn’t know the song.”
Anders reaches out for Samuel’s phone. “Get his ass on FaceTime.”
Samuel dramatically pulls the phone to his chest. “Absolutely not. You will embarrass me, and I will not have you embarrassing me in front of my future husband.”
I roll my eyes. “We won’t embarrass you. We’re going to play the song.”
“Same difference.”
