He’s not wrong.
“You can’t seriously expect me to compete like this,” Harris says from my bed, staring up at her. Still bare chested. Still slightly bruised. Still giving her puppy dog eyes.
Annabelle bats her lashes. “Babe, I don’texpectit—I’m counting on it. It’s going to be great. You’re a fighter, you’ll be fine.” She stretches.“All right, losers, I’m heading out. Harris, make sure you wear that flannel shirt I ordered you, with the suspenders.”
My best friend breezes out my bedroom door.
“And then there were four.” I give Deshaun and Miles a pointed look.
Deshaun leans back against my dresser, entirely entertained. “Man, I don’t know what’s funnier—the fact that she had to order you a lumberjack outfit or the fact that you’re going to be forced to wear it.”
Harris scowls. “I’m not wearing the damn suspenders.”
“Sure you are.”
“Would you please leave?” He crosses his arms over his chest, still very much shirtless, still very much sulking. “I have no idea why you’re even here.”
Deshaun smirks. “’Cause your new boss down at the log yard tracked us down and said you broke your back. Little bitch ass.”
Harris rolls his eyes. “Shut the fuck up—I’m fine.”
Miles gestures toward the bed. “Then why haven’t you gotten out of this bed yet, eh?”
Deshaun shakes his head. “Yeah, bro. You’re stalling.”
Miles crosses his arms, amused. “You scared of putting weight on those little bitty legs, big guy?”
Harris scoffs. “I carried an entire log over my shoulder yesterday, fucker.”
Deshaun snickers. “Yeah, and then you carried yourself straight into a trash can.”
Miles snorts. “A hero’s journey.”
That makes me laugh. These three are quite adorable, and I almost feel bad for Harris. Almost.
He groans, tilting his head back to glare at the ceiling. “I should’ve stayed unconscious in that damn trash can.”
“You weren’t unconscious,” I remind him with a giggle, sitting myself on the bed where my parents were. Glance behind me at his friends and say what I’ve been wanting to say since their arrival: “Okay,guys. Time to go. I have to nurse this guy back to health. He has a big day coming up.”
Deshaun smirks, not ready to leave. “You’re nursing him back to health? That what we’re calling it now?”
Miles grins. “You need us to bring you anything? Ice packs? Crutches? Apriest?”
Harris groans again, dragging his hands down his face. “For the love of God, fucking leave.”
“Text us if he cries.”
Harris flips them the middle finger as they exit, their laughter trailing behind them. The moment the door clicks shut, he exhales heavily and slumps back against the pillows.
I tilt my head, watching him. “You okay, Paul Bunyan?”
He glares at me. “No.”
I smile sweetly and pat him on the stomach, letting my fingers linger above his belly button. His abs tense under my touch, and I swear I see his jaw tighten. “You will be. After some rest, hydration, and maybe some mild humiliation this weekend.”
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Duh.” I swirl my fingers in a small circle against his skin before pulling away, to mess with him.
