“Fine. Whatever.”
“Are you mad?” I sat down on the couch to lace up my sneakers.
“Just arguing with the boss.” He shook his phone at me before turning it all the way off and throwing it on top of the entertainment center. “Nothing a little sausage can’t fix.”
“Was that a sex joke?”
He scoffed. “Not intentionally.”
“Speaking of sex, I’m happy to report that I have finally experienced poppers.”
The tension in Grayson’s face was quick to leave, his expression turning into absolute unbridled amusement.
“Is that so?” he asked, voice light.
“Yep.”
“And you’re just now telling me about it?” Grayson pressed a hand against his chest. “I’m wounded. I thought we were friends.”
“I literally just…you know. Never mind,” I said, deciding to not confirm that he knew what we’d just been up to, even though I knew he already did. “But wearefriends. You’re actually like…my best friend. And I know you have Miles, so I don’t want to make it weird by saying that, but—”
Grayson cut me off, covering my lips with his hand. I closed my mouth, still able to taste the hand soap on his skin. His eyes scanned my face, mouth twisting into a sad kind of smile.
“You’re not the same kind of friend as he is,” Grayson said, like it was a revelation. His hand fell away, but I kept my mouth closed. “Not better or worse. Just…”
“Different,” I suggested, and he nodded.
“It helps that we’ve never fucked, I think.”
“I’ll say.” Colin’s imposing voice from the hallway had both of us smiling. I dropped my head back and Colin was there, leaning down to leave a kiss against my lips. “Are we ready to go or was I interrupting something?”
“You’re not interrupting.” Grayson cleared his throat and stood. “Young Wesley was just about to detail the benefits of poppers during intercourse, but I stopped him.”
“That’s not true.” I shoved him and stood, loving that even though I was shorter than Colin, I was taller than him. “I was professing my platonic love for you.”
“That’s very sweet, boys.” Colin patted his pockets and gestured with his thumb toward the door. “But we’re already twenty minutes late.”
“Henny will drink all the vodka worrying about where we are,” I said.
“Your brother could never even begin to entertain the idea of out-drinking Marzena,” Grayson said, reaching for his phone and stopping himself. “Or Miles, for that matter. He was raised under a sturdy Polish wing.”
“I’m sure tonight he’s going to make a run at it,” I said, following Colin toward the door. “I should text him.”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket while Grayson locked the door, sending him a quick message to let him know we would be there in half an hour and asking him to please not eat all the pierogi.
The three of us rode the elevator down to the parking garage, where Grayson turned to Colin.
“Would you mind driving tonight?” he asked.
“Not at all,” Colin said.
“Shotgun!” I shouted over his answer, throwing my hand up in the air. “I don’t want to ride in the back.”
“I’d never make you ride in the back.”
Colin pressed the button on his key fob, and Grayson settled into the back seat with a frown on his face. But if I knew anything about him, it was that he wouldn’t talk unless he was ready to, and he didn’t respond well to being pushed. Once we were all buckled in, I turned around in my seat, giving him what I hoped was a stern look.
“Grayson.”
