Page 77 of Off Limits

“That makes sense,” Asa mused. “And with your friends, that’s a legit concern. Of course they could just skip hosting a party at all if they’re so worried about their new place getting fucked up.”

I chuckled and pulled my keys out of my pocket. “They could have, but then how would they show off and make us feel like poors because we don’t have houses and probably never will.”

Laughing, Asa followed me to my parking space.

“Right, how could I forget that bragging and making people feel like shit is a crucial part of the homeownership journey?” He waited as I unlocked my car with the fob.

“Exactly. Now you understand how it works.” I opened one of the back doors.

He eyed the wooden dresser crammed into the backseat. “That’s a tight fit.”

“Tell me about it. At least I knew it was secure on the way home.”

“How many people did it take to get it in there?”

“One really big dude.”

“Seriously?” He pointed to the other side of the car. “Want me to push while you pull it out?”

“Yeah, that should work.”

“How did one dude get this in here by himself?” he asked as he walked around the back of my car.

“He said he used to work for a moving company before he started repairing and reselling furniture. I imagine he got really good at fitting big things in all sorts of holes.”

Asa snickered and opened the door to the backseat. “Imagine hearing that last sentence with no context.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I probably could have found a better way to phrase that.” Ducking down, I gripped the dresser. “Ready?”

“Yup,” he answered. “On three?”

“On three,” I confirmed.

“One, two, three,” he counted down.

It wasn’t easy, but between the two of us, we managed to slide the dresser across my backseat until only the edge was still in the car.

Asa came around the car and helped me pull the dresser the rest of the way free.

Once the car was locked and we had solid grips on the dresser, we carried it toward the building.

“It’s kinda sad that your friends seem like they’re still the exact same people they were in high school,” he said, circling back to what we’d been talking about before reaching my car.

“They are,” I agreed, picking up the tail of the conversation. “And it’s getting harder to relate to them the older we get.”

“It’s not unheard of to outgrow your childhood friends. I mean, it’s not like I have any experience with that, considering I don’t have any old friends to outgrow, but it sounds like that’s happening with you.”

“It is, and it’s been happening for years.”

“Then why do you still hang out with them?”

“Because it’s easier to just meet up every once in a while and wait until we eventually drift apart than it is to cause drama and walk away.” We paused so I could punch my code into the main door.

“Fair point,” he said, bracing the dresser with his leg and taking most of the weight so I could open the door.

“And this way I can still keep up with all the gossip while not having to put in much face time with any of them.”

He laughed as we carried it through the door. “Also a fair point.”

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