Oliver
You’re on. I say he passes out first.
Alex
Can’t it be both?
Kyle
Good point.
Kyle
Think the Ice Queen knows about Nathan’s crush?
Oliver
Maybe Nathan is the Ice Queen. I mean, this all started with Gerard’s ass, didn’t it?
Alex
Maybe it’s a coincidence.
Oliver
OR maybe it’s not. Nathan is a freshman. So he would’ve just met Gerard shortly before her first blog post appreciating his cheeks.
Alex
But the Ice Queen has been blogging about you guys since well before that. She started when we were all freshmen. Nathan would’ve still been high school and not known a thing about us.
Oliver
Maybe he took up the mantle?
Kyle
I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.
30
DREW
I’ve never been so aware of the paint section at Home Depot in my entire life. Every can is a countdown to calamity, each color sample a reminder that in four days, I’ll be running my hands all over Jackson’s body while wearing nothing but a thong. My nerves are as jittery as the flickering fluorescent lights above us.
“Ooh, Sunset Orange!” Gerard holds up a paint swatch like it’s the golden ticket to the chocolate factory. “This would look amazing with Nathan’s skin tone!”
Nathan’s face, which has been steadily losing color since we entered the store, contorts. “Please stop talking about my skin tone.”
“But we need to plan!” Gerard throws out his arms, nearly knocking over a display of brushes. “The performance is next weekend! We should coordinate our colors for maximum visual impact!”
Kyle rolls his eyes and shoves the cart forward with enough force that the wheels squeal against the concrete floor. He grabs a box of deck screws from the shelf and tosses them in witha metallic clatter that punctuates his exasperation. “The only impact you’re going for is traumatizing Nathan.”
“I’m not traumatized,” Nathan protests weakly. “I’m merely…concerned about the artistic integrity.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?” Oliver adds a gallon of wood stain to our growing collection. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re about to pass out.”
I grab a pack of sandpaper, trying to focus on the task at hand. Fix the deck. Simple. Normal. Not sensual at all.
