Page 21 of Here and Now
Everett stands there, jaw slack. “Okay, now I’m sure something is wrong with you. Youhatecoffee.”
I roll my eyes. “Maybe I just haven’t had the right kind.”
Maybe I just want it made by a beautiful woman with auburn hair and blue eyes.
Or maybe I’m an absolute idiot.
That last one is highly plausible.
Still, I want to see her and this gives me the perfect excuse.
“So let me get this straight, you want to try to like coffee for some odd reason?” Everett asks before tossing the Frisbee at me.
“Yes.”
“Did we hit you in the head with the Frisbee?” Lachlan asks.
“No.”
“Okay, then maybe you’re having a medical episode. This is really not like you towantcoffee.”
He’s not wrong, I hate coffee. The shit is nasty. It tastes like dirt. However, I don’t hate being around the woman who serves it.
“I didn’t realize my drinking habits were studied. I want to give it a try.”
Everett snorts. “It’s not the coffee he wants to try, it’s the woman who works there and owns it?”
For a second I think they’ve caught on that I want to see Penny, but then I actually register what Everett said. “Wait, what?”
“Hazel.”
“I know who owns it, putz, but why would you think I like Hazel?”
Everett rubs his forehead. “Well you’ve been making excuses to go in there and while you don’t have a shot inhellof dating Hazel, you’re giving it a go. Is that it?”
I ignore the jab about dating Hazel because he’s a prick, but the fact he’s noticed has me a little concerned. Hopefully Penny doesn’t notice that I’ve been in almost twice a day.
“Nope, I just don’t feel like cooking and the pastries are great. Hazel has been bringing in new snacks lately.”
“You’re so fucking weird,” Everett says with a laugh. “And a liar.”
“Projecting much?” Lachlan asks. None of us are able to resist a good jab at one or the other.
Everett scoffs. “Yeah, and you’re just the walking poster for normal?”
“Normal is a relative term,” I say quite philosophically, if I do say so myself.
The two of them chuckle. “Yeah, we’re not even going to talk about Lachlan,” Everett replies before flicking his wrist to send the Frisbee flying—the wrong way.
“One would think by now we’d be good at this,” Lachlan mutters under his breath.
“Hey, we’re good when we want to be,” I say, defending our terribly ridiculous team.
“Not since entering the professional league,” he reminds me.
This is a pretty sad fact. Prior to this year, we played as a college team. The four of us enrolled in community college, which allowed us to enter the collegiate league after recruiting a few other players. We were good.
We were gods.
