Owen
Dude, we’ve got you.
A FaceTime call comes in from Colt, that I want to ignore, but instead I step out to the back porch and answer to find my four roommates in our kitchen.
“Did your oven break?” Colt asks, trying to look behind me.
“How many do you need?” Mike is already taking out mixing bowls and whisks.
“It’s fine, I’ll take care of it.”
“You’re not going to drive all the way here, bake and decorate a bunch of cupcakes, drive back there, then get a minute of sleep before you need to come back,” Owen argues.
“I’ve got it.”
“So do we,” Mike assures me. “How many do we need?”
“As Izzie’s honorary older brothers, you need to let us do this. It’s in the bro code. And we know you’d do the same for us,” Owen adds.
“It’s not?—”
“It’s happening, just say thank you,” Colt says. “Or don’t. That’s what my mom says when people offer help, but this isn’t transactional, so just tell us how many batches we need to make, and I’ll take the scenic route to morning skate tomorrow. You wouldn’t want to deprive me of licking more bowls, would you? We lie to kids, but adults know the batter is the best part.”
“Not sure you count as an adult,” Mike points out.
“Sixteen,” I reluctantly admit. Because I don’t really have another option. “I’ll come get them and?—”
“Izzie promised me a knock-knock joke, so I’ll bring them over and look at your oven while I’m at it,” David clearly lies, because Izzie loves dad jokes, but thinks knock-knock jokes are ‘too formulaic’.
“Why?” the guys ask before I tell him not to.
“I’m very handy,” he says as if that explains it. “And my mom often gets up before dawn when she has the family over, and I’ve helped my dad ensure our capricious oven has never stopped her from feeding her armies.”
“I can’t ask you guys to?—”
“You’re not. We’re offering,” Mike cuts me off.
“Strongly insisting,” Colt corrects.
“And don’t even think about ‘paying us back’. You can be DD next time your turn comes around.”
They hang up before I can argue, or thank them, if I actually let them do this.
Owen
I’m giving Dave your address so he can drop them off at 6 because he’s an insomniatic psychopath. Or I can drive him if you’re not okay with that. But you even think of driving here before you drop Izzie off with all her cupcakes and…*confers with Ivy consulate because not great with threats*
Colt
I’ve set the alarm and apparently no one else knows the code. It’ll go off and wake the neighbors before one of us caves.
I sigh. Pretty sure I could find the code in the emails Owen forwarded us from his dad, but it’s late, I’m exhausted, and maybe it isn’t the worst thing to let other people help you. And have your back.
Me
Thank you.
Colt
