Page 80 of Crazy In Love
“Hm?” He digs in, stabbing the end of his dessert and breaking off a chunk. “What rumor?”
“Yeah?” I smile in thanks when Tommy hands me my slice. “What rumor?”
“You already know,” Alana waves me off. And though Tommy places a plate in front of her, Alana leans on her elbows and burns Chris with her stare. “I heard from notone, buttwodifferent sources, that you were running through the drugstore a couple of weeks back. Shouting at people not to talk to you.”
“You shouted at people?” I clap a hand over my mouth, trying—and failing—to muffle my laughter. “You shouted, Christian?”
“Why were you running at the drugstore?” Franky asks innocently. “Needed a Band-Aid?”
“Yes. Exactly.” Chris intently focuses on his cheesecake. “I needed a Band-Aid.”
“I heard you bought… special flavored Band-Aids,” Alana snickers. “A whole jumbo box of them.”
“Shut up, Alana?—”
“Don’t tell my mom to shut up!” Franky growls.
“So then I’m led to wonder, who were you sharing these Band-Aids with, Christian? Why so many? Why so loud?”
“Must’ve stubbed his toe,” Franky grumbles.Slow to forgive: not even his idol and favorite Watkins gets a pass. “I stubbed my toe the other day ‘cos the stupid rooster chased me onto the dock. Jerk.”
“Such a jerk,” Alana giggles. “Christian? Care to comment on the situation?”
“Sure.” He fills his mouth and settles back in his chair, folding his arms. “Whacky is old, and his brain has mostly already rotted. His body will give out soon, which means the situation will resolve itself naturally. Eventually.”
Tommy finally sits, snickering. “Smooth. Probably not gonna get you over the line, though.”
“Who are you currently dating, Christian?” Alana picks up her fork and slowly shaves just a little cheesecake off the side. “Do we know her? Do you intend to bring her home to meet the family?”
“Yeah, Chris.” Tommy flashes a large, taunting grin. “What’s her name? What’s her star sign?”
“For fuck’s sake.” He shoves up from his chair, snatching his plate and taking his fork with him. “I demand privacy within my private life.”
“Hardly private,” Alana giggles. “I heard this rumor from Mrs. Tower.”
“Mrs. Tower?” Franky asks. “The mean high school drama teacher?”
“That says it all,” Chris scowls. “She’s apt to make up stories and add dramatic flair to please her audience.”
“Oh, so you’re saying categorically and confidently, this event didnottake place?” She drags her fork on her tongue, smugly suckling cheesecake from the pokers. “Despite mymultiplesources?”
“I’m saying that my private life is none of your business. It has never been your business, and considering you have a whole human being relying on you right now to survive, I suggest you don’t bother yourself by sticking your nose into my business. Save yourself the hassle.”
“I’m a woman,” she teases. “I can multitask.”
“How are your stitches, anyway?” My cheeks ache from the laughter I keep trapped inside, because literally every person in this room—except Chris—has seen, or was shot out of, Alana’s vagina. “Healing?”
“Much better.” Changing gears, Alana scoops cake onto her fork and brings her eyes to me. “A little itchy, which can get kind of uncomfortable.”
Chris groans, his face turning an amusing green tinge. “While we’re eating. Really?”
“What’s the problem, Christian?” I turn with a saccharine smile. “Childbirth is a beautiful, natural thing. But it doesn’t come without its risks. Pushing a watermelon through a hole the size of a passion fruit is likely to end in tearing.”
“Fox!”
“Skin tears, little buddy. You would literally know about that.” I look to Tommy. “Is that not why they smear Vaseline on a fighter’s face?”
His cheeks burn a dangerous, dark red. “Uh… yeah, that’s a fact.”
