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Just inside the woods is an abandoned cabin. The windows are partially boarded up, but someone must’ve pried the front door open because people are going in and out of it. To fuck? Use the toilet? I don’t know. Thankfully, I can just piss outside.

Kota doesn’t go in, only leans against the wraparound porch before burying her face in her phone. She’s too invested in whatever’s on it to notice me, her eyes rapidly moving left to right, then back again all the way down the screen.

I’d give anything to know what has her so captivated.

No Guy in sight, I consider going over there and asking her. Based on our last interaction, she wouldn’t tell me. If she even acknowledged me at all.

What should I do? I didn’t have a plan when I went after her, I just followed.

I can get Tina’s vodka for her.

Nice. Believable.

Pretending I was going to my truck all along, I keep on the path that leads to the parking lot.

“Where’s Tina?”

Like a siren’s voice luring me to my death, I’m powerless against it. I glance over to the girl I’d drown a thousand times for.

Her pretty face is lit up by her phone’s screen as she tracks me over it.

I could answer her. I could ignore her. Or…I could get a cheap shot in.

Switching up my trajectory mid-step, I beeline over there, telling her, “I should’ve been calling you Rug this whole time.”

I never pull punches. I’m not about to start now.

“Huh?”

“Instead of Silver. Rug’s much more fitting.”

“Why?”

“Because you let Guy run around on you like a rug.”

After a quick wince, she bounces back with her own quip, saying, “I prefer Hardwood Floor. More durable.”

I’m almost rendered speechless. Almost, because there’s no way I’m letting that go.

“Good luck getting me to call you Hardwood Floor.”

“Good luck getting me to give a fuck,” she says with a shrug.

No. See? That little shoulder pop is a lie. If she didn’t give a fuck, she wouldn’t have broken our stalemate just to ask me about Tina.

“Just like you don’t give a fuck about getting cheated on?” I half ask, half accuse.

“Guy didn’t cheat,” she practically snarls back with a glare that could level mountains.

“He was talking about a fucking two-man with another girl.”

“Exactly.” Pushing away from the porch, she stands up straight, and stares at me, waiting.

I’m confused. How is she arguing with me while also agreeing with me?

“So you admit it?”

“There’s nothing to admit. Guy was trying to set up a double date with another couple.”