“Willa said that the kids here get a whole area of the town sectioned off with bumper cars, laser tag, ice cream, taco stands—”
“Goddamn it! We’re on the wrong side of town,” Roscoe shouted. “I want some more tacos and ice cream.”
“I can make you some tacos when we get home if you want.”
“Uh,” Roscoe stumbled through his words.
“How hard could it be?”
“Five, Cody,” Roscoe said, holding up his hand.
“Excuse me?”
“That’s how many times you’ve said that and nearly burned the house down.” One ear dropped sideways. “I really don’t get how someone can be so bad at somethin’ so easy.”
“Maybe you could teach me how to cook. That might be fun.”
He gave me a squeeze. “You really wanna learn?”
“We can make it a night, like movie night. It’s just another thing we could do together.”
Roscoe tensed a bit, and I looked at his face, expecting a smile. Instead, he looked like he was on the verge of tears.
“Fine, I won’t make you eat what I cook.”
He let out a quiet chuckle but didn’t respond.
“You’ve been acting kind of weird today. Are you upset with me?”
“Of course not. It’s just, uh—” He stopped walking and looked away. “No one’s ever wanted to spend time with me like this. You know, doin’ regular stuff. It’s always been sex, drugs, or drinkin’, or all three. Never really just sat on an old, ugly couch and watched old movies with someone who enjoyed it.”
“I knew it!” I shouted, trying to lighten the mood. “You think that couch is ugly, too!”
“Oh, it’s hideous, and I love it.”
“Fair,” I said, continuing to walk alongside him. “You never did any of that with yourmanygirlfriends?”
“I lied. You think any woman would live with a dumpster diving monster that sucks dick fer smack?”
“Why are you always so secretive about your life? It’s not like lying about having girlfriends made you more appealing.”
“Habit,” Roscoe said, his eyes still averted. “I haven’t exactly been the romantic type, so I like to put on an act.” He turned and gave me a deep sniff. “You smell good. Is that a new cologne?”
“It is, actually. I thought you’d hate it.”
“Well, I do like yer regular smell. You know, that skunky, weed smell.”
“I do not smell like that!” I snapped. “Since you got into my head, I’ve been asking just about everyone I meet if I smell okay, and not one person said I smelled skunky.”
Roscoe raised a brow. “They’re lyin’. You smell like the dankest weed. It’s incredible. I just wanna bury my nose in yer crotch.”
“Every human I’ve talked to said I smell like cologne, but…” I thought back to a few weeks ago when I’d gone with Austin to the barbeque place. “Every werewolf has a different take. One said I smelled like gasoline, another said I smelled like Londonport roast beef, and two thought I smelled like one of those rubber kong dog toys.”
“Ya know, that kinda makes sense, actually.”
“I don’t smell like any of that!”
“You smell like all of it, cause that’s what half-turns smell like to us. Every half-turn I’ve been around smells like you, so maybe you just give off a scent that reminds us of things we love smellin’.”
