“You haven’t been into fucking anyone? Wow, interesting.” Taters shakes his head.
“I’ve been dealing with things, don’t have time for that.”
Whispering, Posey says, “Yeah, dealing with things, aka, crushing on someone who has a boyfriend.”
“Dude, shut the actual fuck up,” Holmes seethes.
Taters and I both whip our heads to look at Holmes, who, even in the light of the fire, is blushing.
“Holmes, you crushing on someone?” I ask.
He’s practically trying to murder Posey with his eyes, and it’s not affecting him at all as Posey gleefully eats his bologna sandwich.
“Who is it?” Taters asks.
“No one’s goddamn business.” Holmes leans toward Posey and says, “I swear to God, if you tell anyone, I’ll murder you.”
Posey pretends to zip his lips and toss away the key.
“Well, we have one clue,” Taters says. “She’s attached. Who do we know that has a boyfriend?”
“It has to be in our circle,” I say. “Because Holmes never goes out.”
“Could be someone in his building, though, like a neighbor.”
“True.” I nod. “Has he worked with anyone recently that could have caused him to form a crush?”
“Can we stop talking about this?” Holmes asks.
“Uh, not that I recall,” Taters says, ignoring Holmes completely. “He’s only been working with Penny . . .” He trails off, and Holmes quickly holds up his hands.
“It’s not Penny, I swear. Posey, back me up.”
“I thought you were going to murder me?”
“Tell them it’s not Penny.”
Posey deeply sighs. “It’s not Penny . . .”
“Why did he trail off like that?” Taters asks, pointing at Posey.
“There was a trail,” I add. “He’s alluding to something. But what?” I wrack my brain as Holmes shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
“Uh, how about Pacey and Winnie? Has anyone heard anything from them?” Holmes asks, trying to change the subject.
We both ignore him. “If it’s not Penny, maybe someone close to Penny,” Taters offers.
And just like that . . . I snap my fingers and say, “You fucking like Blakely, don’t you?”
Holmes groans and slowly sinks into his chair, covering his eyes with his hand. “Fucking hell.”
We glance at Posey, who taps his nose, indicating that my guess is correct.
“Holy shit, you like Blakely,” I repeat and then say, “Dude, she has a boyfriend.”
“I know. We established that. And it’s nothing. I just mentioned that she was pretty, that’s all. Can we drop it?”
“He said more than she was pretty,” Posey mumbles.
