Page 26 of Throttle

Brass sings. A fucking ear-piercing sound with zero pitch.

I grunt. “Give me a damn cigarette.” I pull out the cancer stick and snatch the lighter he offers me. Great. Now I’ve taken up smoking outside the bedroom.

“I take it you don’t do country?” he asks, smirking.

“Is that what that was? And no, I don’t.”

He discards his used smoke on the ground, crushing it with his boot. “Country music is pleasant for the soul, brother.”

“You are not my brother. You’re still a prospect and I'm positive that neither of us wants to be here together. Let’s do this in silence, yeah?”

“Damn. She must really have you by the balls.”

Count to ten.

“She knows how you feel about her?”

This fucker.

“What are you talking about?” I snap. Our focus should be on paying attention, not discussing my personal life with someone I dislike.

“Oh, come on. You’re aware of who I mean. Our little quiet, feisty, petite, curvy. Great a—”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” And our? Where does he get off referring to her as “our”?

He laughs. But I have no interest in talking about her with him.

“No, my balls are fine, jackass, because there’s nothing going on.” Perhaps I imagined that kick in the gut just now.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing to me.”

“I thought I said I didn’t want to fucking talk to you.”

He snickers again. “Look, all I’m saying is that one day she’s gonna find her knight in shining armor or some shit. And you won’t be able to push him away.”

“Let me guess. That knight in shining armor is you?” The vein in my temple is pulsating.

He throws his head back and bursts into laughter.

Brass has the case of the goddamn giggles.

“Nah, man. That ain’t me. But someone. Merely stating the obvious.”

Yeah, the gut punch is real. And it’s lingering like a disgusting stomach virus.

“Those things will kill you,” I tell him as he takes out another smoke.

“Probably,” he agrees as he lights it.

My leg continues to bounce off the bike peg as time passes. “We’re friends. Have been for a while. That’s it. I don’t want her ending up with the wrong douchebag.”

That person being you.

“Whatever you say, man.” He inhales following an exhale, sending a cloud of smoke swirling in my direction.

“She’s too good for you.”

“You talking about me? Because listen, I one hundred percent agree. I’m only making sure you’re not meaning yourself.”

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