“Maybe take the kinky shit to Sabrina’s house next time?” Zen says.
Their hand clamps on my arm and tugs, and a moment later, I get a face full of cold, snowy air.
Sabrina’s hacking up a lung next to me.
Zen got us both.
“One of you two rapscallions wanna explain what the hell I just walked into?” my twenty-three-year-old nibling demands like they’re the adult and we’re toddlers. “And exactly who thought orange powdered cheese belongedanywhereinside Bean & Nugget? Tell me you don’t use that shit when you’re cooking.”
“Chandler—obsession—leftover,” Sabrina croaks out.
Her frog voice is the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.
I clearly have a problem.
“Don’t—” I start, belatedly catching on to what Zen’s snicker means.
“So the Cheese Turd strikes again,” they say. “Uncle Grey, mark that down. He has one name now.”
“Make you—lattes—life—call him—to his face,” Sabrina rasps.
“If the Cheese Turd has the audacity to show his face in this place, I’mma call him a lot worse. Sabrina, give me your keys. I’m taking Uncle Grey home, and then I’ll be back with a couple gas masks. Mine’s for fashion. Yours is for cleaning up your mess. Not that either one of you can clean up the hot mess that’s yourselves.”
“Why my car?”
“It’s theUncle Grey is coated in foodcar. Keys. C’mon. He’ll buy you a new one if I wreck it.”
“You drive in snow?” her voice is clearing.
Zen doesn’t answer.
I pry open my eyeballs, half expecting everything to be orange, but it’s not.
It’s a blurry white.
Snow.
“I…made it here…fine,” Zen says.
Ah, hell.
“Back inside,” Sabrina says. “You two aren’t going anywhere for a few hours.”
“You two aren’t allowed in the same room as long as I’m here.”
I don’t call them on telling me to bang her just the other night.
No point.
We all know the rules.
Just don’t do it where I have to see it.
14
Sabrina
The ideaof being stuck in the café with Grey and Zen while I’m coated in orange cheese is too much to handle, so I break down and give Grey a ride back to the townhouse.
