“No. Enjoy that.” I wave over my shoulder as I leave him alone in the kitchen with his food.
“I will, and I’m not going to save any for you,” he calls loudly, but his voice is still a little muffled with food.
I drop onto the couch, gathering the remote as I do, and turn on the TV. Two hours ago, I was moping in my room, and here I am about to turn on a movie to watch with the guy I was all sulky over. Life is weird.
GAMES
Memphis
“Hello,”I answer my phone softly.
“Where are you?” Oz asks, but judging by his shitty tone, I bet he already knows.
“Waylynn’s.” I run my fingers through the ends of her hair. I’m not worried it will wake her up, since I’m pretty sure it’s what put her to sleep.
“You’re a dick. What are you guys doing?”
“She’s sleeping. I’m watching some movie.”
“Come get me,” he demands and pleads in the way only family can. “Her beds are made of fairy fucking clouds or some shit.”
“It’s called good quality.”
“It’s called I don’t wake up with a backache or the smell of anyone else’s balls,” Oswald retorts with a snort.
“If I come get you, I don’t have an excuse to come back. Can’t you get a ride from someone?”
“My floor is filled with freshmen, none of which have cars. Fuck it. I’ll ride one of those stupid scooters because my legs are killing me.”
“Okay, I’ll see if I can unlock the door.”
“See if you can? You better unlock the door, or I’m going to climb my ass into her bedroom Rapunzel style.”
“I already made sure her doors and windows were locked. Good luck with that,” I say before hanging up the phone while Oswald yells in the background. I wouldn’t be his brother if I didn’t give him shit. Hell, he’s given me enough for a lifetime.
I allow myself a few more minutes to soak up the feeling of having Waylynn’s head in my lap before I try to scoot out from under her without disturbing her sleep.
Her head pops up, and she squints at me. “Sorry I fell asleep.” Her voice is just a whisper.
“Don’t be. Oswald called. He’s on his way over.”
“Okay,” she murmurs softly and curls up, already closing her eyes again. I head to the kitchen to watch for Oz.
I chuckle when I see the single headlight cruising up the sidewalk and turning into her drive. I open the door to tell him, “Leave it on the sidewalk.”
He hops off and plants his feet on the ground. The thing looks tiny, I don’t know how it got his big ass here so quickly. It doesn’t help he has his football bag on his back like some turtle.
“Aren’t you supposed to stay in the dorm the night before a game?” I ask after he puts down the kickstand and walks toward me.
“They just don’t want us out partying or anything,” he deflects. “What did you guys do all day? Is there anything to eat?”
“What happened to the team dinner?”
“That was hours ago, before films. Stop avoiding the question.” Oz watches me closely. I look back at the slightly open door.
“We got into it a little bit,” I confess.
“Into it? What do you mean? You fought? About what?” he questions rapidly.
