“Pretty much what you already know. He said he has been with her and couldn't wait until the next time. And he said it in the most disrespectful way; that’s what lit me up more than anything.”
“I see.” He looked up at me. “Did you believe him?”
“She said she’s never been with him, and that’s good enough for me.”
“I wouldn't worry too much about him. If he had ever dated her, I think she would have been a little friendlier with him.”
“I know.” I shrugged. I didn't want to spend my afternoon thinking about Chris, and Ryan picked up on it.
“When’s she due home?” Ryan asked.
“In a few hours.”
“I'll text her and see if she wants to cook out.” I watched him type away on his phone and then smile when he got a reply. He typed again and then laughed.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“She likes my steaks better than your chicken.”
“I cooked them both.” I pointed out before reaching over his shoulder and grabbed the phone from his hands, reading the conversation. Then, I typed my own message.
I cooked all the food
Luke, btw
Well I like steak better than chicken, and I don't have to diet like you do.
E
I’ve got something better for tonight
Luke
I bet you do. ;)
E
I handed the phone back to Ryan and headed to the house. I grabbed my keys off the counter and walked back out, climbing into the truck.
“You coming?” I asked Ryan who was still seated on the tailgate.
“Yeah.” He shut the tailgate and then hopped in the passenger door. I waited until he clipped his seatbelt and then took off down the driveway.
***
“Can we get these?” Ryan asked as he dropped cookies in the cart I was pushing.
“You’re an adult with your own money. I’m not buying you cookies.” I picked up some shrimp and pineapple then a gallon of milk and ingredients to make slaw then pushed the cart toward the checkout.
“Minimalist much?” Ryan complained as I pushed past the snack foods. He dropped a bunch of junk in the cart and ignored me when I told him he didn’t need it. It was a battle not worth fighting. The only time he ate healthy was when I cooked.
He ate half a box of cookies between the grocery store and home. It was depressing and infuriating.
When we got back, I set about prepping dinner and making slaw. I set it to the side and went about putting the kabobs together. I was adding the pineapple, and Ryan laughed.
“Who the hell puts fruit on a grill?” He picked a piece up from the plate and popped it in his mouth. I watched him closely. They had been rolled in a hot pepper paste, and he didn’t know it.
“HOLY SHIT!” Ryan yelled and spit the pineapple in his hand. “What the hell?” He looked over his shoulder as he ran water from the sink into his mouth. He swished the water, then spit it in the sink. “Are you trying to kill me?” He complained then walked across the kitchen and opened the fridge pulling out the milk and drinking directly from the container.