Page 15 of The Kiss Principle

I pressed my thumbs against my eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

“That was only an example.”

“No more lesbians. I’m going to find a lot of straight guys. Probably white guys. Bros.”

“Yeah,” Lou said, “that’ll work out great.”

The conversation shifted to the grow, and as usual, I was impressed. Lou’s operation was growing steadily, which made sense—she’d known what she wanted to do since we were in college, and as soon as California legalized cannabis, she’d poured everything into the farm. After updating me on the new strains she was trying, as well as loading me down with enough to get me through the month, Lou walked me to the Escalade. The breeze rippled the poly of the hoop houses, and it snapped and rustled as the familiar, musky scent filled my nose.

I almost made it out alive.

“What’s going on with Bea?” Lou asked when we were ten feet from the SUV.

Only ten feet. I could make it.

“You piece of shit,” Lou said.

“Give me a fucking break!”

“You didn’t text her.”

“Things came up.”

“You promised me you were going to text her. I told her you were going to text her.”

“I had a baby dropped into my lap. My universe imploded. I’m so fucking sorry for not texting your friend.”

“That was this week. It’s been four weeks, Fer—what happened the other three?”

“Believe it or not, I’m busy.”

“Sitting in front of the TV every night after work?” Lou asked. “Getting loaded in your underwear?”

“I have a life. I go out with friends. I go mountain biking.”

“You go out with friends,” she said in disgust. “When do you go mountain biking?

“Well, not since I hurt my back.”

“Are you for real right now? I’m trying to help you. You’re fucking miserable in that house, spending every minute being a fucking clean-up boy for those two human disasters—” Lou stopped, but too late. Some of the color left her face, but she managed to hold my eye as she mumbled, “Sorry.”

I opened the Escalade’s door.

“Fer, come on,” she said. “I’m sorry. We want you to be happy.”

“Hey, look at that—turns out, I’m fucking ecstatic.”

“It’s—” Indecision made her voice waver, and then she burst out, “Aren’t you lonely?”

“You don’t understand,” I said. “And I don’t need you to understand. But I do need you to keep your fucking opinions to yourself.”

“Fer.”

I almost said, They need me. I almost said, I have to search Mom’s room after every breakup. I almost said, Chuy got stabbed, did you know that? And who had to change the bandages and drive him to the doctor and get his prescriptions refilled? I almost said, When? When was I supposed to walk away? When I started college, and Augustus hadn’t even hit middle school? And I wanted to say, How? I don’t know how.

But, softening my voice, I said, “It was nice of you and Dakota to try to set me up. I’ll text her. What’s her name? Betty?”

Lou’s eyes were shiny with tears, but she said, “You are an asshole.”

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