Page 21 of Runaways

Without warning, Tate unzips his jeans, whips out his dick, and starts pissing in the damn cup.

"Jesus, Tate." I quickly turn around, averting my gaze upward while they both laugh.

I hear him zip up a few seconds later. "Okay, Noah," he says. "The glass is half-full."

Silas laughs harder, and I turn around. "That's not funny."

"You're laughing," Tate says. "A little bit. You think it's kind of funny."

Itisa little bit funny. But I'm pretty sure he's about to beat my ass, because I don't know what he expects me to do with that fucking cup.

"Relax," he says. "It's not for you. But you and Silas are going to go back downstairs, and I want you to switch this cup with Calvin's beer."

"What if he isn't drinking beer? This is not me questioning you; I'm genuinely looking for recourse."

"If he's not drinking beer, I'll settle for you feeding it to his piece-of-shit friend, Archer. If he's passed out, you may dump it on his crotch. Silas may assist you any way he sees fit."

"So, you want me to go back out there—in his jersey—and feed him your piss?"

He nods. "Correct."

Sighing heavily, I extend my hand, grimacing when I close it around the cup. "Oh, god. It's so warm."

The guys laugh again, and Tate heads for the window. "See you on the other side."

"I kind of hate you right now."

"Come on," Silas says. "Let's get it over with."

I follow him, frowning as we descend the staircase. "It's sloshing when I walk. I can't look at it."

Silas snorts. "Put it in your other hand, then. If you spill that shit on me, I'm screaming."

"Everyone's looking at me," I tell him once we get to the main level.

"Yeah, of course they are—you don't have any fucking pants on. Not so invisible now, are you?"

"Just…do you see him anywhere?"

"That dumb mother fucker," Silas says.

"What? Where is he?"

"Not Calvin," he says. "Tate. Look over by the front door."

I wouldn'thave noticed him if Silas didn't point him out, but he's right. Tate is there, wearing Silas's sunglasses and hoodie with the hood pulled tightly over his face.

He couldn't resist watching.

"Calvin's over there," Silas says, nodding toward the far end of the room. I spot him on the couch next to Archer, but there's an empty space at his other side. Both are drinking keg beer from the same cups.

"Okay."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"No," I tell him. "I've got this."

I cross the room and sit beside Calvin, piss cup in hand.

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