Adam jumped up from the couch. “You’re a huge pussy.”
“Well, yeah. Gaping, ground hamburger anuses are gross.”
“You’re afraid Roscoe would prefer me over you.”
“You know there’s like forty other werewolves in this town, right? If you’re that thirsty for attention, go set up a lemonade stand outside with a glory hole.”
“I’m gonna ask him,” he said in a playful tone before turning toward the hallway.
A low growl left my throat, and everything got darker. “If you step into that room, I will throw you through every window in this fucking house.”
The red hue disappeared when I realized Adam was actually winning.
“Why are you so weird about this?” Adam asked, his tone a little less teasing. “You were fine when Darryl was with him, and it’s not like you’re serious about him. You even said that yourself.”
“Just drop it.”
The bedroom door opened, and Roscoe strolled into the living room with a grin so obnoxious that I began to reconsider Adam’s request.
“You ready?” he asked, handing me a wrinkled sheet of paper.
“What’s this?”
“It’s yer script.”
I looked down at his terrible handwriting, reading through each of my lines. “This is… surprisingly tame.”
“And you were worried.”
“I still am. This just makes me more suspicious.” I folded the paper as Roscoe handed me a dirty white T-shirt with a smiley emoji on it and a red and white baseball hat. “Oh, come on.”
“It’s yer costume. It’s what a high school kid would wear.”
“Dude, I’m one giant lollipop shy of this being pedo bait. I’ll just wear what I’m wearing.”
“Nah. It’s gotta be that.” He licked his lips. “Only that. No pants.”
“That doesn’t make any sense either—”
“It’s porn, Cody! Fucking hell. You’re getting people off, not making a cinematic masterpiece,” Adam interrupted, looking up at Roscoe. “Let me do it.”
Roscoe’s ears perked up. “Really?”
The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up, and I reluctantly put on the baseball cap. “Tell me what you want me to do,” I muttered, slipping into the T-shirt.
The perverted old werewolf rubbed his hands together. “Oh boy. When we get to the room, take off yer pants and underwear, then sit at the desk.”
“What desk?” I asked, then darted into the bedroom. A little wooden table and chair sat in front of a chalkboard Roscoe had hastily screwed into the wall. It was slightly crooked with ‘Sex Ed with Roscoe’ scribbled in pink chalk in the middle. “How? How did you get all this in here without me noticing?”
Roscoe’s tail wagged, and he pointed to Adam’s phone, which was tied to the handle of our vacuum cleaner. “You said the phone was waterproof, right?”
Adam nodded.
“Are we taking this into the shower or something? Because you need one.”
“Uh, yeah. A shower,” he said with that same devious expression from earlier.
I unfolded the sheet of paper. “I didn’t see it in the script.”
