“Bro’s dead,” Finn says, very final.
It makes me snort.
“I can do this shit all day,” I say, because I genuinely can.
Walker tilts his head. He’s looking at me with that fifth grader expression again.
“Okay, new bet.”
The room collectively groans.
“Dude, my wallet doesn’t have infinite money,” Finn complains.
“Hear me out. If any of us can make Kit move, he’s the automatic loser. Pays everyone’s beer for a month.”
What kind of absolute bullshit is this?
“How’s that fair?” I ask, already feeling not so chill. “That’s five people’s beer.”
“You the one who said you could do it all day.”
“I can.”
“Then prove it, bro.”
I shift my focus back to the ceiling. Idaho stares back at me, indifferent. “What’s in it for me?”
“The satisfaction of—”
“Nope.”
Grant goes quiet for a second. You can always tell when he’s running the math because he gets unnervingly still—a funny look, considering the circumstances.
“Three months,” he says. “You win, we cover your rent for three months.”
Walker starts to object.
“Shut it,” Grant snaps. “You’re the one who started this.”
“I was going to say that’s fair.”
Finn raises a hand from his spot on the floor. “I feel like I should have a vote here, seeing as I’m also paying rent.”
“You already lost the beer bet, shut up,” Miles mutters.
“That’s... yeah. Fair.”
I keep my eyes on the ceiling.
Three months of rent is real money. It’s also just math, and the math is simple: they can’t make me move. I knew it the second Finn’s knuckles hit my ribs and I just didn’t care. There’s a switch in me that gets very quiet sometimes. Everything slows down, goes flat, and I can just exist in that space for hours.
Like I said: I’m chill.
“Deal,” I say.
Then, I go completely still.
2 Loads
