Page 77 of Good Guy Gabe

JOSS

I’m out of milk. Are you coming by today at all?

I question how soon I can leave without offending everyone, but I’m not going to tell her that.

GABE

Sorry, i’m at evan and keira’s today. you could come over though if you want

JOSS

I’m not hanging out with you.

GABE

ok

JOSS

can you bring me milk on the way home?

GABE

it’s gonna be late. we’re having a potluck. i brought tater tot hotdish. huang is pressure-cooking coca cola wings. you should come over.

JOSS

I SAID NO

JOSS

Just bring me milk on your way home

JOSS

And some of those wings

GABE

ok but will you actually drink the milk? we can fuck either way, but i don’t want to go to the store if i don’t have to.

JOSS

WE’RE NOT FUCKING I JUST NEED MILK OMG

GABE

::wink::

The one nice thing I can say about spending Super Bowl Sunday on the oversized lounger in the theater of the Jugs House is we never expected to make it to the Super Bowl anyway.

Sure, we thought a miracle was happening as the season went on and our record stayed strong, but it would have been a miracle. Just making the play-offs our second year was impressive. The only expansion team in modern history to have done any better was the Panthers, and only by a single game before losing the Division championship. It was almost a decade before they got to the playoffs again, so we have a lot of time to best them.

Some of the guys have picked sides. They’re watching the game, arguing plays. The usual. Blaise is next to me, nearly upside-down on his lounger, with a plate of Super Bowl snacks — except it’s literally just Vienna sausages for god knows what reason — on his stomach. One leg is kicked up over the back, the other over an armrest. I’m pretty sure his head started on the other armrest, but it’s since rolled down to the seat and half off. He’s combed his hair out but hasn’t gotten it trimmed yet, and gravity is doing wild things with the shaggy afro. One arm is flopped over his head, his limbs so long his knuckles and phone graze the carpet.

He’s got an earbud in. He’s definitely watching anime.

So I don’t feel guilty about the fact that I’m not even pretending to watch the game anymore. I threw a hundred bucks down on the betting pool. I made chili. My phone dinged to let me know Joss was streaming, and it’s good for her algorithm if I watch, so I let it play while I watched the game.

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