Page 64 of Finance Bros

That’s when Malcolm speaks up. “Last night, Ryan wasn’t being very supportive. I just felt like my contributions to the project were under appreciated.”

I lean back in my seat. “Oh, is that right?”

He waves a hand at me as if to say,see—zero appreciation.

“Look, you two,” Bailey says, sitting across from me and dragging Mal into the booth with her. “Wehaveto work together. It’s too big a project to have anyone dropping out now. We all agree on that, right?”

I give a stiff nod, and Mal says, “Right.”

“I support you, Malcolm,” she tells him with more earnestness than I would have thought her capable. “Does that help? I think you’re doing an amazing job. Your set ups have been really creative, and your chest muscles are super good.”

His expression softens as he looks down at her, “Thanks.”

“Give him a compliment,” she tells me, her tone stern.

I jerk.Actually?I have deep barrels inside me full of compliments and complaints about Malcolm Walsh, but it’s not the compliment barrel I’m digging through today. My contribution is, admittedly, a copout. “I agree about the chest muscles.”

He levels a glare at me. Do I deserve that? What the fuck did I do this time?Besides wrapping my mouth around his dick when he was only planting soft kisses on my neck.

“I’m a little concerned about how much reassurance is required here,” I say. “If you feel like you’re in over your head, speak up.”

“I’m fine,” he grinds out.

“Well, I think your communication needs improvement. That’s what the group text is for. If you don’t feel comfortable saying something to our faces, maybe put it in a text.”

From the look on his face, it’s clear he gets my meaning, but he only glares at me.

“Mal?” Bailey looks at him expectantly.

“We are all grown ass adults,” I add.

She shoots me a look that says shut the fuck up.

Mal finally mumbles something. “Maybe it’s just like—performance anxiety.”

I snort.

“Stage fright,” he says louder, ignoring me. “This idea of having a big following—it takes some getting used to.”

“I get that,” Bailey says. “The bad news is, it’s probably gonna involve some growing pains. The good news is, it’s working, and people love it.”

“Do they?” he asks.

I feel like this is all aimed at me, and I’m no better. Every word out of our mouths seems to have a double meaning. For someone who claims not to be a good writer, he sure as fuck has a way with words. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it.

Bottom line is, he let me suck his dick, he freaked out once he left, and now I have no clue where his head is at, but I can certainly guess based on past experience. At least he’s not banging an associate in the supply closet, because that’s pretty much exactly what he did when we were in high school, and he somehow always managed to get caught. Imagine that.

His sexploits were everyone’s favorite topic in school. It didn’t do Kaylin any favors, but Mal’s reputation as a straight guy who had a lot of sex was golden. I’m surprised there’s not a statue of him in the trophy cabinet—most lays in a high school career. Lifetime achievement award.

“Of course!” Bailey’s saying. “You have forty-eight thousand followers and counting. We just need you and Stephanie to start selling those subscriptions.”

“Right,” he says. “Sorry. To be fair, he didn’t make any content either.”

“I didactually,” I say, annoyed as fuck. “I just haven’t posted it yet.”

His eyes flash to me. They’re bluer today than usual. Maybe something to do with the dark circles under them making them really pop. “You did?”

I cock my head. “I did. I thought I looked good last night, so I went ahead and made a few.”

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