“I’m pretty sure the tights are biting you. It’s the only explanation for your gyrations.”
“Gyrations? Really, Uriel? I’m stretching them out.”
Uriel dropped the tights on the bed. “Absolutely not.”
“If you don’t put on the tights, we can’t reenactEdging the Elf.”
“What?”
“Book three. I might have put in a tiny request to your magic to have it appear this morning. And guess what was on my nightstand when I woke up?”
Joe lifted the book and did another little shimmy.
“What is....” Uriel leaned a little to the left to get a better look at the cover. “Oh. Wow. Yeah.”
“Put on the tights, Uriel.”
“Yeah, okay. How long do we have to stay at the parade again?”
“Not that long. We only have to do one shift at the fundraising booth. One measly shift and then—” Joe opened the book to a random page. “—I can…oh, I’m not actually sure I’m that bendy. Whoa. That’s graphic. And totally unrealistic.”
Joe’s disbelieving scoff only made Uriel more curious. He yanked on the tight tights before scurrying around the bed to get a look at the book. Luckily, Joe had gotten absorbed in the story, so Uriel was able to read over his shoulder.
“Really?” Uriel said. “Do you know how big my balls would have to be to produce that much…really? It made his belly…that’s a lot, Joe.”
“Tell me about it. And you with your megg kink.”
“I don’t have a megg kink!”
“Sure you don’t, big guy. That’s why you immediately denied their existence when I brought them up.”
“That is the most illogical argument you’ve made to date, and that’s saying something.”
“Truth hurts, doesn’t it?”
Uriel took the book out of Joe’s hand and dropped it onto the bed. “You’re trying to edge me already. I’m onto you.”
“I can’t help how hot you are when you get riled up. Fiery hot. Dragon hot.”
“If you say—”
Joe batted his lashes. “Get dressed, sugar plum.”
“Veto. Snowballs! I walked right into another one of your traps.”
“Yep. You win. It’s my turn again.”
“I rescind my veto.”
“No takebacks. Oh, this undershirt thing is like butter.”
Uriel scowled. “I’m not sure I want to know.”
“Soft, like one of your sweaters. Oh, I wonder if I can layer. I bet I can. I want to wear a sweater.”
“They’re not dry yet.”
Joe gasped. “What?”
