I frowned. “No, I was Meryl Streeping you.”
“That’s not even a real thing!”
“And Freddie Prinze Junioring is?”
“Is there any more coffee?” Vince asked Corey. “I feel like this is going to go on for a long time.”
“I’m Zen,” Corey said.
“I know what that means because of Asia,” Vince said.
“To the couch!” Paul cried.
PAUL, VINCE, and Corey sat on the couch. I sat opposite them in a kitchen chair Paul had dragged to the living room. All three of them had stern looks on their faces. Well, Paul did. Vince and Corey tried to have stern looks, but Corey was Zen and Vince didn’t really understand how to be stern. So he arched an eyebrow and frowned, but then he grinned at me and winked. To say I was confused would be an understatement.
“You know why we’re here,” Paul said.
“If I say no, can you go away?” I asked.
“That won’t ever happen,” Paul said. “We’re all together. For life.”
“Don’t you threaten me,” I said. “I know my rights. I don’t have to sit here and—”
“It’s after eight,” Corey said, sighing as he pulled his hair back and tied it off with a rubber band from his wrist. “I’m done being Zen. Shit’s about to get real.”
“I’m just here because I love you,” Vince said to me. “Are you comfortable? Would you like a granola bar or a glass of water?”
“I’m good,” I said. “Also, Paul, you’re still wearing your bike helmet. You look ridiculous. I can’t believe you wore that willingly and there is no possible way I can take you seriously now.”
“The chin strap on my other one broke,” Paul muttered, pulling the Hello Kitty helmet off. “And Vince made us ride bikes over this morning because he said that it would help me cool down.”
“It didn’t,” Vince said, wincing. “I’ve never seen someone bicycle angry before.”
“I didn’t bicycle angry.”
“You were glaring and pumping your thighs really hard.”
“So, like, a normal weekend for you two, then?” Corey asked them.
I snorted and tried to cover it up as Paul shot a glare at me. I felt remarkably chastised over it, and I wondered just how much trouble I was in. I tried to think about how I’d feel if Paul kept such a monumental thing from me and realized I’d probably cut off his balls.
This was not good.
“Where are the others?” I asked, somewhat nervously.
“We didn’t tell them,” Paul snapped. “Do you know what this would do to my parents? To Nana? Sandy, she’s already got one foot in the grave. This would kill her.” He huffed out a breath. “Okay, it probably wouldn’t because she’ll most likely outlive us all and she and Johnny Depp will spend an eternity sitting on my grave and hurling insults at my corpse, but the point remains the same.”
“Um,” Vince said. “What was the point again?”
“The point was—” Paul stopped. “Shit. The point was that… huh. I don’t know if I had a point.”
“You don’t need points,” Vince said, patting Paul’s knee. “You can just talk. That’s what you normally do.”
“I don’t think that was a compliment like you think it was,” Paul said.
“Oh, I know,” Vince said.
“Zing.” Corey high-fived Vince behind Paul’s head.