Steamroller - Page 11

“No, I know,” he said, taking some of his clothes from me and moving back to the couch. Apparently he was going to drape them over the back. “That was bad. My mom was pissed.”

“She missed you!”

“She had you. She likes you better anyway.”

It was true. “That’s not the point.”

“You don’t deny it!” He laughed, grabbing more of the clothes, covering the couch.

“Matt!”

“Just—” He took the remaining items, put them on top of the others, and then almost leaped back to me, placing his hands on the sides of my neck. “I’ll make it up to you, to them. I was a dumbass. Just forgive me already. Don’t make me remind you that you owe me.”

“Owe you?”

“Who took your skinny ass in?”

“Your folks!”

“Yeah, but how would my parents have even known you if it wasn’t for me?”

“I—”

“Huh-huh?” he pressed.

Christ.

He grabbed me, put his face down on my shoulder, a hand on the back of my head, the other under my arm, the way he’d been hugging me since the fourth grade. “Just come on… you know you’re not gonna send me away.”

I growled.

“Come on, Vinnie, you know you’re not.”

Shit.

“At least this year we can drive home together and both be there for Christmas.”

“Matthew Cooksey, if you do not get home right this instant, I will throw all your stuff out on the lawn and—”

“Fine,” I muttered, shoving him off me. “But you—”

The door swung open, interrupting me, and Pete Kramer, another friend of his, stood there waiting, looking bored or stoned or both. It was probably both.

“Where’s your shit going, Cooksey? Hey, Wade.”

Pete was a last-name guy; it was his thing.

I threw up my hands as Matt cackled and greeted Boaz, who made a total whore of himself and started rubbing all over Matt’s legs. Boaz did the cat stretch, reaching high while up on his toes, dug his claws into Matt’s left thigh, and purred like a tiny tiger.

Fuck.

“Oh, who’s the pretty kitty? Who’s the best kitty in the world? Yes he is, yes he is. Oh, who missed me? Who missed his daddy?”

“I’m his daddy,” I grumbled under my breath, which made Pete snicker.

“Barbie.” Russ Ackley, yet another of Matt’s brain-dead friends, leered at her as he came into my apartment and walked around Pete to dump three blue Rubbermaid tubs in the middle of the living area. “Been fuckin’ your TA.” He tsked at her. “Naughty, naughty, but I always figured you’d be the one to screw around. Oh, that reminds me,” he muttered, bumping Pete on the arm. “You owe me money on that. I told you she’d be the one to cheat.”

“What was it, a five? How’s about I buy you breakfast instead?”

“Breakfast!” Russ boomed out, turning to shoot Barbara with his thumb and forefinger. “Thanks, skank.”

She screamed and tried to hit him, but he picked up one of the containers to block her and she hit her hand on that instead. It didn’t hurt; it was only plastic, after all.

“Let’s not fight, children.” Pete yawned. “Mattie left the gooey DNA-infested bed.”

Russ made a retching noise, and Barbara wheeled around and left, almost crashing into Greg, who was coming in with another load of what looked like jackets, sweaters, and a peacoat.

I realized I had just doubled my wardrobe, at least in outerwear.

“Watch it,” Greg warned her. “I don’t wanna get skeeze on me.”

She screamed and tried to kick him, but he moved fast and slipped by her to walk to the couch.

I could hear her clomping down the hall.

“So.” Pete yawned again, blinking his eyes. “Seriously, Wade, where ya want this shit, dude?”

They were all looking at me as Jeff and Tracie, mutual friends of ours, walked into the apartment.

“Uhm.” Tracie smiled at all of us. “All this crap isn’t gonna fit in here, boys. You need three bedrooms.”

“Or shelves,” Jeff interjected.

“Or three bedrooms.” Tracie’s eyes opened wide, as she had been made to repeat herself. “For crissakes, Jeff, we have a closet bigger than this apartment.”

He shrugged.

Pete was still holding what I suspected was a box full of books, because his massive biceps were bunched like he was exerting some real power to hold on to them. “Yeah, so you should move, but for now—you want this shit here by the door?”

Yes, by the door was fine.

“You know, now that I’m in here, it is kinda small,” Matt commented. “Was it always only this big?”

I rolled my eyes.

“You guys need to move,” Tracie assured us. “I mean––” She gestured at all of it. “––how is this even gonna work?”

I let my head fall back as Rick asked me if I had any beer.

“Before breakfast?” Greg asked.

“Beer’s always good.”

Greg didn’t argue.

I had showered the night before, so I washed my face, changed, and fed Boaz and gave him fresh water before I followed my best friend—ditched the ex already—and the rest of the rabble down the three flights of stairs to the street. We all needed breakfast after our eventful morning.

Tags: Mary Calmes Romance
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