Rupert:THIRTY MINUTES? There is no way.
Theo:Yes, it’s been thirty minutes.
Rupert:I’m suffocating. I’m not going to make it through this.
Theo:Can you stop being so dramatic? You’re making it worse.
Rupert:No, you are, because you took my material. Now that leotards are off the table, what the hell am I supposed to talk about?
Theo:I wish you’d get your head stuck in a fucking toilet.
Rupert:Wow, okay, resorting to violence when all I’ve been is supportive.
Rolling my eyes, I set my phone down, only for it to buzz again.
Rupert:Don’t do this, don’t turn away from me, that’s what they want. They’re being silent because they want us to get angry at each other. Hold strong, my man.
“That’s not what they want,” I say, only to quickly realize that I answered him out loud, rather than through text.
Fuck, maybe I’m the one losing brain cells.
“That’s not what who wants?” Kitty asks, popping up from where she was resting her head against the window. Wasn’t she sleeping?
“Uh…nothing,” I say.
“No, I think you were talking about us,” Renley says.
She’s been silent this whole car ride except when choosing the worst times to make a comment.
“I wasn’t.”
“Then what were you talking about?”
“Guinea pigs,” Rupert says, stepping in.
“Guinea pigs?” Renley asks.
“Yes. I was texting him about guinea pigs. He has a secret obsession with them, just loves to watch videos of them eating lettuce. The elation that crosses his features—honestly, watching him watch guinea pigs is a moment you will never forget.”
Stop talking, you fuck.
“Anyway, I was telling him that we should find a guinea pig farm here and see if we can feed them, you know, one of those tourist things, and he was like, ‘Oh, we should take the girls with us.’”
No, absolutely not. No more road trips with these two.
“And I was like, ‘Yeah, we should. We could all feed them kale and take pictures,’ and then that’s when he apparently got so outraged that he answered out loud rather than through text. And why were you outraged?” Rupert asks, waiting for me to respond.
He’s such a pillock.
Guinea pigs and leotards?
What the fuck is he watching on social media? And how can we reset his algorithm?
“I was, uh, outraged because the guinea pigs would prefer lettuce over kale.”
“A valid concern, so valid. My mistake, man. When we go to visit those guinea pigs, I’ll be sure we have bundles upon bundles of romaine lettuce.”
“Thank you,” I say, hating him, myself, and this entire situation.
