Calla laughs. “Gotcha. Gotta say, I amlovingthis for?—”
The sound of a ringing phone cuts her off, and she frowns, patting around on the comforter until she finds it.
“Who’s calling this early?” I ask as she glances at the screen.
She snorts and swipes to answer. “Hi, Harold. Yeah, he’s awake…. No, they didn’t fuck.”
“Calla!” My outrage is fake, since I would have told Harold that anyway, and she gives me a “be for real” look.
“You were totally right. He’s head over heels, and from thevery, very littlehe’s told me so far, Griff’s the same.”
Aww. I mean, I knew that—as much as I can know anything that hasn’t been said out loud—but it’s encouraging that other people have the same understanding of the situation.
“Okay, I’ll tell him. You set it up with the others.”
Oh no.
She ends the call and smiles at me. “Harold’s leaving work early today so he can come up for dinner.”
“Calla—”
“You brought this on yourself, Phil. If you hadn’t posted in the group chat, nobody else would know. At least this will keep everyone from calling you today.” She pauses. “Except Polly and Marty. Since they can’t come, they’re gonna want an update.”
I sigh. This is the downside of trying to torment your friends. They torment back.
Blaise and Jordanoffered to host this dinner so that, to quote Jordan, “We don’t get kicked out of the restaurant for adult language.” Given that Calla already told Harold that Griff and I didn’t fuck yet, and that I know Harold would have passed that information on, I’m not sure what he thinks is going to be said.
When I texted that to Griff, he sent back three laughing emojis, followed by
If your friends are anything like I think they are, you’ll probably talk about all the things we’re *going* to do. And sweetheart, talking about those would definitely get you kicked out of a restaurant.
The heavy-handed insinuation got me so hot and bothered, I had to go splash cold water on my wrists and face. I would have done more, but since the showroom is so small, the bathroom is a shared one, and I refuse to bethatguy.
Griff’s right about my friends, though, so I’m prepared for pretty much anything as I follow Calla and Blaise into the living room.
Except this.
Blinking at Polly, I ask, “Aren’t you supposed to be on the other side of the country?”
He scoffs. “Like I was going to miss this. As soon I saw Harold’s message this morning, I canceled my weekend plans and booked a flight.”
Because that’s not weird at all.
“I promised Marty to text him updates. I was going to video call so he could be part of it, but he’s having dinner with his parents.”
“Poor Marty,” Xera says.
Jordan claps his hands like a schoolteacher. “Now that we’re all here, let’s get started. We can cover a lot of ground before dinner arrives.”
“Okay, now you’re all getting creepy,” I declare. “There’s no ground to cover.”
“Hard disagree,” Harold says firmly. “I didn’t know until last night that you were even interested in someone. Butch said she only knew that he existed and was a stylist. Calla knew about the date. There are a lot of holes here, Phil, and we demand they be filled.” He blinks, then smirks. “Heh. Like what you were doing last night.”
A groan ripples around the room, and I grab a chip from the bowl on the coffee table and throw it at him. “You already know we didn’t… fill holes.” Oh my god, I can’t believe I stooped to his level and said that.
Harold cackles, and Blaise elbows him. “Don’t be an ass. Phil, don’t feel like you have to share if you don’t want to… but can you tell us his name?”
I smile gratefully at him. “I don’t mind sharing some stuff. His name’s Griff. Griff Pevensy.”
