“And it moves us all.” With his dick pouring piss like a water hose, he lifts both hands over his head, clapping them together before slowly lowering them, fingers twinkling like falling glitter. “Some say eat or be eaten.”
“I ain’t eating no goddamn rat.”
“Some say live and let live.”
“Are you fuckin’ with me right now? What the hell are you talking about?” I narrow my eyes at him when it finally clicks. “Don’t quoteThe Lion King to me, motherfucker. You weren’t even alive when it came out.”
“Whatever.” He reaches down and holds his still-pissing dick. “If you ever try to commandeer the bathroom again when you know I need it, I’m telling Bubba.”
“I don’t give a damn who you tell, or what you tell them. Just finish pissing so I can take a shower. Some of us have to work today.”
“I work every day, thank you very much,” he says, shaking his cock to get rid of the last few drops of piss still clinging to his cockhead. It takes me a moment to realize I’ve been staring at his dick this whole time, a fact that seems to be lost on him, thank God, because he’s too busy staring at his junk to notice me. Once he tucks his cock away, he whirls around and points a finger at me like he’s aiming a loaded gun. “You and I are going to have a little chat.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Don’t care.” He sidesteps to the sink and lathers his hand with the fancy-schmancy hand soap Bubba buys for him, then rinses his hands. “You don’t get to ignore me. Not when it comes to Bubba. I want you to look at me.” His voice carries a weight I’m not used to. Usually, he’s shrill and queeny when he gets angry. Right now, he could rival Dallas or Bubba’s dominant tone. Flipping the faucet off, he dries his hands on his bare thighs, and our eyes lock. “I’m trying to apologize. Prick.”
“Apologize for what?”
“For laughing about you being bald. I shouldn’t have made fun of you for something you have no control over. You’re bald, but it’s not a bad thing. I’m sorry if I insinuated it is.”
Insinuated, my ass. He flat-out said it.
I scoff and take a seat on the edge of the bathtub, water raining against the shower curtain behind me. “Fuck off. I’m not a delicate flower. I can handle cracks about my looks.”
“You can, but you shouldn’t have to. I know we’ve got our little blood feud going on, but I shouldn’t have been cruel about something you can’t help. That’s not the man I want to be.” He looks at the bathroom door. “You’re in love with Bubba.” It isn’t a question.
“I’m not—”
He shakes his head, stopping me mid-sentence, freezing me in place like Medusa.
“I’m not leaving, Johnny,” he says, but he doesn’t sound cruel, just sure of himself. “I know that’s probably not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. Maybe I’m being selfish, but I like Bubba. I like how he lets me be crazy without judgment.Who else is going to let me throw cum-balloons at them for funsies?” As he trivializes Bubba’s potential for being the best fucking boyfriend this side of the border—something I wouldneverdo—I try to reconcile the future I was hoping for and the one that’s in the cards. I wanted Bubba to myself. My best friend forever, the way we’ve always been. But now, things have changed. Or maybe we’ve changed. Our bond is strong as ever, but he’s sharing so much of himself with Ezra, it feels like I’m losing parts and pieces of him I’ll never get back. “Who else is ever going to love me? I’m a freak, Johnny.” My heart twists like a knot in my chest when his voice cracks. “Everyone always leaves, but I don’t think Bubba will. I know he’s your best friend, but I can’t let him go. I think he’s in love with me too.” He wipes his eyes. “Who else is going to love me?”
“You’re not a freak. You’ve got boundary issues, and you’re a fuckin’ asshole most of the time, but you’re not a freak.” I turn and look at him. “Too?”
“Huh?”
“You said you know I love him too. ‘Too’ makes it sound like—”
“It implies nothing,” he shrieks, eyes going comically wide like a cartoon character in a life-or-death situation. “I swear to fucking God, Johnny. If you mention this discussion again, I will destroy you.”
I smirk at him. “Maybe I’ll tell Bubba. Just for the hell of it.”
“Maybe I’ll cut off your cock and wear it as a festive brooch.” His eyes dart left and right like he’s looking for an escape route. I know people call me slow sometimes, because I ain’t the sharpest pea in the pod, but the way Ezra misses the bathroom door as an easy way out makes me think he might not be as smart as he acts either. He moves to the center of the bathroom, beneath the air duct. “We will never speak of this again.” He tries to reach for the hole he dropped through earlier, but he’s five-foot-nothing, so he can’t reach the ceiling.
“The fuck are you doing?”
“Trying to make my movie-villainess escape, you bastard. What the hell does it look like?”
“There’s a door right there,” I say, pointing at the door.
“Yes, well, where’s the fun in that?” He looks up at the ceiling, then back at me. “Will you get over here and help me up, already? God, Johnny. Worst gentleman ever.”
“I never claimed to be a gentleman.”
He scoffs. “You’ve got that right. For fuck’s sake, you clip your toenails in bed and leave the remains scattered across the duvet, you big, bumbling behemoth.”
“Not this shit again,” I groan.
