“I don’t like it. Is that a good enough reason? It makes me feel bad. Can you stop? Can’t I tell you anything without you talking about murder?”
“Because he has little man complex and someone needs to put him in his place!”
“He doesn’t want to fight you, Tristian! Will you listen to me?”
“Yeah, because he knows he’ll die.”
I start power walking away from him. I don’t want to listen to this anymore. I don’t want to hear another word about Peter.
“Where are you going?”
“I want to get away from you. I want to get away from everyone!”
“Hals!”
I stop walking and turn around.
“Don’t ‘Hals’ me. I just want you to stop talking about Peter. Please! Oh...and if you want this to work, stop trying to fight my battles for me! You never should have texted him. Going through my phone for his number? That wasn’t okay.”
He digs around in his pocket with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. I fold my arms and stare at him.
“Well?” I ask.
“Sure thing, boss.” He pulls out a small plastic bag filled with pills. “A deal’s a deal, right? More Oxys for my very own key.”
I snatch the bag out of his hand, inspect it, then shove it into my purse.
“I don’t understand why you want a key so badly. It’s not like I leave the apartment that much. I could just let you in,”
“It’s the general principal. It’s the idea of the key.”
What the fuck does that mean? I side-eye him.
“What? Just feels good to hold it,” he continues. “My dad always said a man feels differently when he’s holding a key to his very own home.”
“Yeah, except it’s not yours, it’s—”
“I don’t want to hear it!”
“All right. Whatever... Did you listen to my rules?”
“Yeah. Don’t fight your battles. Don’t kill the troll. Got it.”
“Right.”
“Now tacos?”
“I want a quesadilla,” I say and pout.
“Fine. They got those too.”
We walk down the sidewalk hand in hand.
Peter
HAYLEY’S WATCHING TV, so I do what make sense. I turn on the vacuum, whistling as I push it around the coffee table.
“Fine. I guess I’m not watching anything, then.” She presses on the power button of the remote.