“Nine-thirty.”
Carver started rooting around for his clothes. “Your van’s dead, how are you hauling your stuff away?”
“I was gonna Uber over and then bring the stuff out to the street and call an Uber XL to pack it into.”
Carver found his socks and began pulling them on. “That’s illogical,” he said, with the impatience he always felt when hungover. “Let’s just go back to my parents’ house and I’ll take you over in the Maybach.”
“You think you have room?”
“Do you have any idea how big that thing is inside? Don’t waste forty bucks on Ubers.”
“Okay, I’m not so broke I can’t afford two Ubers,” Scott said. “But that does sound like a better plan, thanks.”
Carver pulled his briefs back on, then got a cramp in his calf muscle and exhaled in pain. “Do I have time to shower first? I can take a five-minute shower.”
“Definitely. Take ten, even. You okay?”
“I’m fine, it was my calf.”
“Nothing from last night?”
“Not unless you fucked me in my calf,” Carver said, pulling his shirt over his head. “I’m dehydrated and I was sprinting around without stretching. I need electrolytes.”
Scott nodded and gave him a thumbs up.
“Is that a thumbs up like you’re gonna go find me a Gatorade?”
“Oh, was that an actual request?”
“I’d be very appreciative,” Carver said, pulling his shorts on and shooting Scott a grin. “They keep some in the garage fridge, I’m pretty sure.”
“Got it,” Scott said, sliding the door back open and hopping out.
“I only like yellow and red flavor,” Carver shouted after him.
He zipped his hoodie up, climbed out of the van and went into the house, which Scott had left unlocked. After a quick, punishingly hot shower in the upstairs guest bathroom and the swallowing of two ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet, he felt a little more put together. As Doug had warned him, he was now feeling the pain in his knuckles, which were dappled with ugly little black and blue bruises. He found a tube of arnica gel in the medicine cabinet and applied that to them, then used some Paul Mitchell serum of Josie’s to slick his hair back before heading downstairs.
He did in fact feel sore inside from going for multiple rounds two nights in a row, but it was satisfying like the ache from a good workout. He liked the feeling and felt almost protective of it.
Scott was waiting for him in the front hall with a cold yellow Gatorade. Carver almost said “I love you,” but this didn’t feel like a joke that was available to them, so he just said thank you three times before taking the bottle and draining half of it.
“Let’s go?” Scott said, gesturing toward the door.
Carver wiped his mouth. “Let’s go.”
They walked in silence through the fresh morning’s sunlight and birdsong. Scott dropped back and waited by the curb whileCarver went up and knocked on the front door, which Doug answered.
“Morning,” he said, looking Carver up and down.
“Hi,” Carver said.
“You went to your aunt’s last night?”
“Yep.”
Doug looked him in the eye and nodded. “She knows you know, now?”
“You knew she knew?” Carver said, surprised.
