“Callan, what were you doing before you came barging in…?” I drawl, just to watch him blush.
Upon returning to school after the holidays, Callan decided that moving into our building was a great idea.
Pecan decided it was an even better idea to give him a key.
I swear to Christ—the universe is against me.
Callan sniffs. “I have three brothers. I know your game. Misdirection. Well, it won’t work. Now, what’s going on, or do I have to do a sit-in?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It’s ridiculous and not her problem. I’m dealing with it. I told her I was dealing with it?—”
“She obviously didn’t receive that message.” He sits on the foot of my bed. “What’s ridiculous?”
“Your fly’s undone.”
Callan glances down then groans.
Pecan cackles. “Made you look. Misdirection, my ass!”
We both scowl at him, but I just mumble, “It doesn’t matter.”
“Clearly not.”
“Yeah, dude.” Pecan ambles toward my bed too, tosses his arm over Callan’s shoulders, then plunks down beside him. “A problem shared is a problem doubled.”
“It’s halved,” Callan says dryly.
“That makes no sense.”
“How can it make more sense for a problem to be doubled when it’s shared?”
“Because we’ll take on the weight of his problem.”
“Jesus!” I growl. “If I tell you, will you shut the fuck up?”
Pecan beams at me. “Of course.”
And I’m back to pinching the bridge of my nose.
“I was video-calling her during lunchtime. This guy’s hovering behind her in some kind of bar and is literally staring down her shirt. Right in front of me?—”
“Denny encouraged it?” Callan asks in surprise.
“Of course not. She’s under the impression she’s unattractive.” I roll my eyes. “Anyway, she’s talking to me and he…”
Pecan frowns. “He what?”
“Touched her.”
“Touched her?” Callan repeats.
“Touched her,” I confirm.
“Touched her?” Pecan asks.
“Yeah! He fucking touched her!”
They share a look.
