The Guy on the Right (The Underdogs 1)

His lips turn up.

“It’s cute you think I’m kidding.”

“I have no doubt you would.”

“Oh, I will. It’s the version of Crazy Laney you never want to meet.”

“You’re a good friend, Laney.” His voice is soft, face crestfallen due to what I’m sure is a burning image of his ex-girlfriend post roommate romp.

“I’m so sorry. But I assure you, that particular brand of poison never tastes as sweet as the first sip. After that, it’s just nasty aftertaste. Abs definitely don’t make the man.”

I palm his cheek. “And I might’ve been a little trigger shy in revealing this to you, Theo, but you aren’t anything to sneeze at. Like at all.”

His eyes connect with mine fully, and there’s a sort of recognition in them I’ve never seen before.

“There’s been times I’ve wanted to tell you,” nerves fire off as he studies me carefully. “It’s just never really been fittin’ to admit it, b-because we’re friends.”

Something heavy lingers in the air, and I pull my hand away. I’m not allowed to touch him again until I know for sure if I want more than friendship. But don’t I know? I’m jealous right now that he’s jealous about his ex. Isn’t that sign enough?

Hey, Gina, now would be the time to speak up.

But it’s not my nether region that’s pulsing faster by the second, it’s the organ in my chest that’s starting to make the most noise.

“Anyway, I’ve got just the thing for today.” Opening my locker, I pull out the metal container that my buddy, Fraz, gave me in case of emergency and open it, before approaching Theo. “Trust me?”

“Not even remotely.” He eyes the gummy. “What is it?”

“It’s a pot gummy, you know, an edible.” I waggle my brows.

“I don’t do pot.”

/> “No one says ‘do’ pot. You smoke it. Or in our case, eat it. And we’ll do it together.”

“What are you doing with that in your purse?”

“Saving it for days when my new best friend has a meltdown. That day has come, my friend.”

He gives me a wary glance. “I have class in an hour.”

“Then class will be a blast. It’s supposed to be super mild. I think.”

“You think?”

“I mean we aren’t smoking it, so it can’t be as harsh, right?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never done it.”

“Me neither. I’m doing it with you.”

“I don’t think this is the answer.”

“Neither is obsessing about your ex, and I’m not in the mood for a hangover. Live a little, Houseman,” I say, tearing the disc in half and popping it into my mouth. “Down the hatch,” I instruct holding the other half up to him. “Just a little buzz to take away the blues.”

“Right,” he takes half of the gummy, chewing it while cringing before he swallows. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

“Ex-hate will make you do stupid shit, and now we’re both going down the rabbit hole. What class should I pick you up from?”

“Music Composition. Sam Houston building. 203.”