My smile falls. “His crummy sense of self?” I echo. “What are you talking about?”
“Here,” Fox grunts, setting a plate of goldfish, oreos, gummy worms, and miniature blueberry muffins on the coffee table.
Wolfe stares at it. “Are these the snacks you feed my child?” he asks.
Fox shrugs. “Yes, but this batch is what Poem requested from the store for herself.”
I grab a muffin, popping the whole thing in my mouth. “Amia’s living large,” I assure Wolfe through the sticky, doughy treat. “These are the best.”
“You ate Amia’s snacks at my house just this morning,” he says. “What portion of that experience makes you think that these snacks are going to give me the warm fuzzies about sending her over here?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. But I thought we were being careful and gentle and kind? Or is this a double standard situation? Do as you say, not as you do? Not to mention, whereisAmia? I could be sharing these snacks with her instead of getting a manners lesson from you.”
“She’s with our parents,” he answers as I pop another muffin in my mouth. His eye twitches.
Fox scoffs. “No one needs to be gentle or kind oranythingto me.”
“Perfect!” I reply. “Since that’s the case, you can start this illustrious communication we’re supposed to be having. What’s on your mind, Foxy?” I bite a gummy worm’s head off as I patiently await his thoughts on the day. A man’s thoughts on anything are, of course, my utmost concern.
He says nothing. I assume this is because a man’s thoughts consist of nothing, their heads being vast empty spaces.Sympathetically, I whisper, “Do you need me to tell you what to think? It can be hard to come up with the thoughts all on your own.”
“Poem,” Wolfe hisses.
“Well!” I hiss back.
“I’m sorry for kissing you against your will,” Fox does the communicate. Stupidly. “It was unbearably unforgivable of me. I hope that you do not feel uncomfortable with me going forward, but if you do…”
I cut him off expeditiously. “Stop that,” I order. “The only way I’ll be uncomfortable going forward is if we don’t do more kissing. Often. Many times. Lots of it. I have never enjoyed your presence more.”
“NowI’muncomfortable,” Wolfe mutters.
“You invited yourself to this,” I remind him.
He grimaces.
Fox breathes rapidly, blinks rapidly, and taps the heel of his footrapidly.
“Stop fidgeting,” I boss him. “Or I’ll change my mind.”
He ceases immediately.
I smirk.
Oh, yeah. This is going to workbeautifullyfor me.
“Can you explain your thought process?” he asks slowly, still as a statue.
I nod amiably. “Of course. My thought process is as follows: You’re hot. I like kissing you. Kissing you ismuchmore pleasant of an experience than listening to you grumble and grump about, being rude to me because of whatever nonsense you believe about your worth to your parents, as if their hearts—and October as a whole—doesn’t have space for the both of us to live peacefully and happily. I also like that my new plan, which involves kissing you any time you start to act up, gets rid of the plot holes my you’re-my-brother plan had. Furthermore!” I wagmy headless gummy worm in his direction. “I feel this situation gives me an immense amount of power over you, which we all know I love and adore. It’s a win-win-win-win-win.”
Fox doesn’t move a muscle, and I think maybe he even stops breathing.
I take another bite of my worm.
“What about your feelings?” Wolfe prods, glancing between his brother and I.
Uh… “I just told you my feelings,” I answer. “Fox hot. Poem kiss. Lord over him. Poem happy.”
Wolfe, inexplicably, sighs.
