Page 162 of The Stud

“Alright, alright,” murmurs the man I’m Spartan burn down the world in love with prior to turning off the water, “we understand now.” One final, sassy snuff is delivered before he victoriously stomps out of the room prompting Tanner to investigate, “Is it just me or has he been atadgrumpier lately?”

My wet figure easily slides off his, back to the ground. “You would be too if the dude your mom is bangin’-”

“Engaged to.”

“-suddenly moved all his strange shit in-”

“It is not strange.”

“-and kept covering the places you like to sleep with plastic-”

“Tarps.”

“-and spilling horrible smelling wet liquid into buckets-”

“Paint.”

“-that you’re notallowedto touch because the one time you did your mom yelled at you with her whole chest while giving you a bath-”

“Are these updates whyhe’scranky or whyyouare?”

Shooting him a playful smirk is attached to backing out of the walk in.

I don’t really hate any of it.

It’s an oddly fun thing to do whileGladiatorplays in the background.

Plus, for the first time since I’ve lived here, the place feels more like a home than just somewhere I crash.

Ugh.

He’s turning me into a girly broadskie.

It’s so gross.

Post quickly throwing on one of Tanner’s old jerseys and him a pair of workout shorts, the two of us follow Bear to the front door where he is steadily griping about someone being on our doorstep.

The instant we realize who it is we state in tandem, “Banco.”

Bear plops his ass on the floor beside my feet but continues to hold his large torso in a protective position.

Becks barely waits for the blockade to finish opening before grumbling, “This is gonna be a long week together, aye, pup?”

Confusion has me and my other half crinkling our foreheads in tandem, yet it’s him who speaks, “What?”

“You’re gonna be gone a full week, right?” Beck casually shoves his hands into his pockets. “Starting tomorrow.”

“NextThursday,” sighs Tanner at the same time he opens the door to usher the guy who now rents his old apartment into our house. “You are an entire seven days too early.”

“Shit,” mumbles the guy I’m so glad has stayed sober during his entrance, “my bad.” Once the door is shut behind him, he shrugs off the mistake. “I’m here. You two wanna order wings?”

Light laughs leave me as he gives a warm rub to Bear’s head. “When don’t we?”

“You think you’ll have them at your wedding?”

“We do not even bloody knowwhenwe’re having a wedding,” gripes his best friend, “let alone what we will be serving.”

The three of us head towards the living room that was painted the previous week. “Wait, you two still haven’t picked a date but are going to look at venues in another country?”

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