Page 22 of Missing Linc
“Well, Iama college student, and I’m tipsy. Can I keep being a dick?” Ezra asks.
I turn to Cam to apologize, but he’s hiding a chuckle behind his hand. God, he’s adorable.
No. He isn’t. He isn’t anything. I don’t find himanything.
For fuck’s sake, I need to get a grip.
“How much do I owe you?” I ask him, trying to ignore the two cackling teenagers behind me.
“Uhm… Thirty five,” he says, reading the receipt in his hand.
I take out fifty and give it to him. Our fingers brush as he takes the bills off my hand, and they send sparks up my arm all the way to my chest.
I pull away as if I’ve been electrified and thank him.
“Enjoy the rest of your night,” I say. “And be careful.”
“Wait,” he says, hand resting on the closing door. “Your change.”
“Keep it. It’s the least I can do for these idiots embarrassing me,” I tell him, and he offers me a smile.
God, why does that smile make my insides tumble like a tornado?
“Oh my God, Mr. Young. Who the hell is that and why haven’t you told us about him?” Isaac says as soon as the door closes and I turn around.
“What the fuck are you talking about? Why would I tell you about an actor from my cast of eight?” I answer, trying to dismiss him and his boyfriend glaring at me.
I’m not successful.
“You don’t have to, but it’d be nice to hear about the guy that makes you beam like that,” Isaac says.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply, and run a hand over my face trying to straighten any lingering leftover smiles I might have.
Isaac turns to Ezra, crossing his arms.
“Am I hallucinating or not, baby?” he asks him.
“No. I can definitely see the difference,” Ezra agrees.
I shake my head, grab the pizzas, and head back to the couch.
“Can we please shut up with the bullshit and watch the game? You know I’m straight. I don’t know why I have to keep repeating it. To both of you.” And myself.
Isaac and Ezra join me on the couch, and we watch the rest of the game until halftime.
“Gosh. Sometimes I forget ‘Smiths makes such great pizzas,” Isaac says, wiping his fingers.
“I prefer Dough Bros,” Ezra adds. “And I’m still hungry.”
“Maybe we should order some more pizza from Linc’s boyfriend then,” Isaac says.
Which signals another round of ribbing about Cam and my sexuality.
“You guys are dickheads,” I tell them both and get up.
I grab my wallet and my keys and drive off, leaving them in the house to do whatever gay shit they want to do. I’m not going to be the butt of their jokes.
There is every intention of getting home. But when I’m a few blocks away, I can’t even stand the idea of going back there, of being alone with my thoughts.
