“Hard to get a read on someone who’s larger than life, you know?”
“Yeah,” I said quietly, “that’s a good description of Tray. Are you dating anyone?”
“I am. His name is Josh Barrons and he’s a normal, average student with hopes of getting into Brown to major in psychology.”
“You say that like you’re apologizing for him,” I noted.
“I’m not. But he’s no Tray Evans.”
I laughed at that. “That’s probably a good thing.”
“Nah, Josh is Josh. For now. He’s my boyfriend, but he’s not a Tray Evans in bed, I’m betting.”
“That sounds like…a security blanket.”
“He is. My personal blankie that I’ve had for four years,” Brady noted.
I jumped, slightly, hearing my phone ring. I’d forgotten how loud the ring was set at.
Brady laughed. “Ah, the demanding, pissed-off boyfriend calls again.”
I rolled my eyes, but braced myself as I answered, “Hey.”
“You could have fucking warned me!” Tray hissed. I heard loud music in the background.
“Sorry?”
“That kid you were talking about, Props—whatever, he’s here. He showed up after school. Thanks for the warning. I had to get rid of Carter and everyone.”
“Is he still there?”
“Yeah. And your friend that banged Hooters girl.” He cursed, catching himself.
That made me smile. He’d caught onto my nick-name.
“You don’t have to call her Hooters girl, I’ll have sex with you tonight anyway.”
Brady pursed her lips, her eyes dancing in amusement.
“Whatever,” Tray groaned, “can you just get your ass here?”
“Yeah, I just got out of swim practice.”
“I know. Carter told me.”
“How does Carter know I had swim practice?”
“You really want to know?”
“No!”
“Then don’t ask. Where are you? Get over here.”
He sounded tense.
“Is Props really that hard to handle? You sound like you’re at your wits’ end.”
“It’s not him, it’s the other guy. What’s his name?”