“We text a little bit sometimes,” he shrugs. “It’s not that deep.”
Yeah, keep telling yourself that, I think to myself.
Reiss groans, “Stop lookin’ at me like that. It will never be me and Stassie.”
“Because of Mira?” I ask. “Or because of you?”
“It’s more complicated than you know,” he admits. “So just please let it go.”
I nod, and do as he asks. Letting it go. If he wants to talk he will, besides I know what it's like to want to keep things private.
Case in point: Lincoln. And chances are if I start prying, so will he.
I whip my phone out and type a message to Lincoln.
Colson
A party huh?
Lincoln
Word travels fast.
Colson
Your brother invited me.
Lincoln
Did he? How convenient?
Colson
Celebrating America’s independence, I don’t think I should miss it.
Lincoln
I mean, yeah stop by if you want. It’s whatever.
Colson
At least I’ll get to see you.
Lincoln
That’s kind of the point, dipshit.
Colson
I’m flattered.
Lincoln
I want to see you when we aren’t training. If I have to throw a stupid party for it to seem like it’s in the wild, then so be it.
Colson
Love you too, baby Bane.