Page 32 of Stay in Your Lane!

“Dude, I’m trying tohelpyou!” Everett scoffed as he jiggled the net’s long handle, trying to get Steve to let go. “What the—why?Why?”

Despite my sour mood, I laughed as I watched the interplay from my couch. “He doesn’t make it easy, does he?”

“No, he doesn’t!” He tugged on the net again. This time, Steve acquiesced and let it go, then disappeared into the plants along that end of the tank. “God, finally.”

“He’s probably just waiting for you to let your guard down. Watch your fingers.”

Everett grunted and continued to carefully scoop out the bits of shrimp and vegetables the fish hadn’t eaten. “Why does he dothat, anyway?” He glanced at me as he emptied the net into a plastic bag. “Is that, like, a territorial thing? Because the others don’t do it.” He paused. “Do they?”

“No, they don’t. And no, it’s not a territorial thing. It’s not even a piranha thing.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s aStevething.”

He barked a laugh as he dipped the net back into the water. “You should put that on a T-shirt.”

“What? ‘It’s a Steve thing’?”

“Yes! I’m telling you—he needs an Instagram with merch and everything. It would be—” There was a sudden splash, followed by a yelp of, “Ow!” Everett jerked his hand back and shook it, sending water everywhere. “Fuck!”

I was immediately on my feet. “What? Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He shook out his hand again. “Didn’t think he’d actually jump out of the water to bite me.”

“Do not underestimate Steve.”

Everett grinned even as he held his bitten hand. “Another T-shirt. Right there.”

I snorted. “Just—let me see your hand.”

He offered it, and I cradled it in mine. It wasn’t a bad bite; to the untrained eye, it just looked like Everett had knocked his knuckle against something.

“Eh, you’re probably good. You’ll want to clean it out and throw some Neosporin on it, though.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Are their bites that nasty? They’re not like Komodo dragons are they? Did you know they get so much bacteria in their mouths, they’re basically venomous?”

I blinked. “I… Yes, I’ve heard that, but no, piranhas aren’t—it’s the water.” I pointed at the tank. “Remember how I said they like it kind of dirty?”

“Ooh. Right. Yeah.” He glanced around. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“End of the hall. There’s Neosporin in the top left drawer.”

His smile shouldn’t have made my balance go wonky. Neither should the fact that I was?—

Fuck. I was still holding his hand.

I released it as quickly and casually as I could, cleared my throat, and added, “There’s, uh, Band-Aids too, if you need one.”

He glanced at his finger and shrugged. “Probably couldn’t hurt. Thanks.”

Then he disappeared down the hall, leaving me alone with my asshole piranha and his six more docile tank mates. I narrowed my eyes at Steve, who was peering at me through some plants with a look that said,And I’ll do it again.

He would, too.

“You’re a dick,” I told him. He didn’t seem to care.

That was when I realized the net was floating on top of the tank. Good thing I’d bought one that didn’t sink—lesson learned the hard way. Even using salad tongs or whatever to pick something up off the tank meant sticking my arm partway into the water, and Steve would inevitably takefulladvantage.

I plucked the net out of the water and continued scooping out the remaining pieces of food. Steve stayed back among the fronds, eyeing me in that menacing way he always did, but he didn’t try to attack. He’d probably just been trolling Everett. It would be on-brand.

And it gave me a chance to touch Everett’s hand while?—

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