I glance up to see Chase dropping into the seat across from me, stealing one of my hash browns before I can stop him.
“You’re late. And buy your own damn hash browns.”
He snorts. “Believe it or not, some of us have jobs.”
“Pretty sure selling weed doesn’t count as a job.”
“It does when people keep paying me.”
I shake my head and take a sip of my coffee. He grins and takes another bite.
“So, you and Izzi back together?”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I groan.
“What?”
“You lasted all of three seconds before coming at me with stupid shit.”
Chase just shrugs, sitting back with a nonchalant look to his demeanor.
“I was just curious,” he says.
Scoffing, I take another sip of my coffee. “No, you’re nosy.”
“Same shit, brother.”
“We’re not back together.”
“But you slept with her.”
I glare at him. “How the fuck do you know that?”
“Brother, you were putting your clothes back on as she answered the door. And you’re wearing yesterday's clothes.”
“Well, maybe I was studying.”
Chase stares at me, so I stare back.
“Bullshit,” he counters, stealing another hash brown off my plate. “So what’s the plan? Are you gonna keep letting her call you whenever she’s drunk and lonely?”
“Nah. I don’t have a plan.”
“Clearly.”
“Eat shit.”
Chase laughs and steals another hash brown. Maybe if I stab him with my fork, he’ll stop eating my shit.
“You know she’s bad for you, right?”
“Wild of you to tell me what’s bad for me when you’re a fucking drug dealer. Besides, she’s not my problem anymore.”
“You’ve been saying that since Freshman year, brother.”
“Yeah, well, I mean it this time.”
“Oh yeah?” Chase asks. “What’s different now?”
