“Just call him you dick.”
I hang up, call back, hang up and call back three times. Before I can get to phone, he’s calling me.
“Jamie, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, hey. Hey, Cory, Nothing. Why do you presume something is wrong?”
“Ahh, because you called and hung up like a hundred times.”
“Oh, you can see that?”
As what I just said kicks in, he gives the cutest ‘you idiot’laugh, that’s laughing at me without laughingatme. “Yeah, Grampa. These newfangled phones can do that. Now tell me what’s got you in a panic.
“Willyoucometoahockeygamewithmetonight?” It’s one word, and screamed. He gets it though, and I get an immediate?—
“Yes, James, yes. I’d love too. What time?”
Ignoring the instant chub hearing, “yes, James yes,” has inspired, I pull the phone from my ear, and glance at the time “Can pick you up in an hour?”
“Done.”
“Great. Oh, and Cubby, just to reaffirm, this is a friends hanging out thing, not a?—”
“Date. Got it. See you soon, babe.”
“You can’t seriously be wearingthat?” Cory is standing at the open passenger-side door, abs fully exposed and perhaps dusted in glitter, with one of his slutty little cropped tanks, low slung baggie jeans and chunky white runners I just know a pair of crisp white tube socks slid inside of.
“Duh, I have a jacket.” The jacket he holds out looks like something that would fit an American Girl doll, but it is technically a jacket. “What’s wrong,friend?” He smirks as he deposits is round ass into the seat, then slides his glasses down his nose to stare at me above them. “Don’t you like my outfit?”
“No, it’s the opposite and you know it. That’s why you wore it.”
“Dunno what you’re talking about.” Buckling his belt, he flutters his lashes innocently. “We’re just two hot friends, heading to a hot hockey game in enemy territory. Why is that, by the way. Coach ask you to do some recon?”
“No, not at all. Faith was home, Dylan is super chill, and I just felt like getting out.”
“Fair enough.Andjust to make sure, we haven’t seen much of each other this week, so it has nothing to do with missing me?”
“What? No way. Absolutely not. That’s crazy. Didn’t even enter my mind one bit. Nope.”
“Well that is very convincing. Glad you cleared that up,” he says, slapping my thigh.
“Cubby.”
“Yes, Jamie?”
“My leg?” I glance down at his hand. The one lingering on my thigh and slowly edging up.
“Oh. That was not deliberate. Absolutely not. That’s crazy. Didn’t even enter my mind one bit. Nope.”
“Excellent. Glad we could clear that up …”
“Cubby,” I repeat a moment later.
“Yes, James.”
“Your hand. It’s still on my thing.”
“Annd you’re telling me thisbecause?”
