“Yeah right. After last year when Pak and Smith set one of the rotisseries on fire because they thought they could stick a frozen bird in and crank the heat to five hundred to cook it faster? I don’t think so. Adler is going to have us all manning the mashed potato station.”
“Fuck, I hope so. I love mashed potatoes,” Lennon sighs, bringing Breaker’s hand to his lips and kissing along his knuckles without taking his eyes off the road. Even from my spot in the back seat, I can see the flush take over Breaker’s cheeks, and even though I want to roll my eyes at their cheesy romance, I can’t help but smile.
I also can’t help the image that flashes in my mind. The one of me and Alex, leaning back on his stoop under the stars, our lips brushing against each other and the hot, molten sensation that overtook me when I thought he was kissing me back.
I shake it off as quickly as it comes. I can’t think of Alex that way. He’s my friend, he’s straight, and even if he wasn’t, I’m not looking for anything serious. Ican’t lose myself in poetic fantasies about butterflies and stolen kisses.
And yet…I can’t help the “what ifs” from sneaking in.
The smart part of my brain knows that Alex and I are just friends, but the dumb, lizard, caveman part can’t let go of the kiss. It can’t let go of the subtle flirtations. It can’t let go of the urge to storm into the event hall, find Alex, throw him over my shoulder and scream to the world that he’s mine, mine, mine.
Oh my god Elliot, shut up. You’ve known the dude for a few days. You spent a grand total of two hours with him. You don’t even know his middle name.
That is a good point, and a wonderful excuse to reach out. I pull my phone from my pocket and tap out a quick message.
Elliot
What’s your middle name?
Alex
Kozlov. What’s yours?
Elliot
Ugh, mine is awful. It’s Raine.
Alex
Raine is an awesome middle name. Why would you think that’s awful?
Elliot
I guess it’s not awful, it's just uninspired. My mom was 17 when she had me…during a rainstorm…
Alex
Nah, that's not uninspired. That’s history, a story. It’s a name with a good reason to pass it on. Kozlov is awful. It's my mom’s surname, and I’m pretty sure it means ‘goat’ in Russian or something.
Elliot
Dammit.
Alex
What?
Elliot
I love goats. Every time I turn around, you get more and more adorable.
Alex
You are a relentless flirt, Elliot Raine Baker.
Elliot
I’m sorry. I’ll back off.
