Page 133 of Withered

I make an extra cup of coffee for Tyler and hand it to him. Tyler notices my legs and whistles softly.

“Someone had a good night,” he comments, looking at Jake. I try to act unfazed, but the blush creeps on me.

Jake chortles. “You’re talking about yourself?”

To my surprise, Tyler spares me a look and shuts up. I elbow Jake and say, “Don’t trouble him. He just woke up.”

As Jake gives me an innocent smile, Tyler chimes in, “Jake is turning soft.”

Jake smirks and points a finger at me and says, “With her around me, that’s not fucking happening.”

Tyler snorts, and I choke on my coffee, spilling some out.

“Man, you’re whipped,” Tyler states.

Jake’s eyes turn into small slits. “Shut up and drink your fucking coffee.”

“Where is Kristy?” I ask Tyler.

Tyler’s posture shifts for a split second, and Jake chuckles beside me. “She’s sleeping. She drank a lot yesterday.”

I nod. Tyler’s chef prepares breakfast for us, and I enjoy the fantastic waffles.

I change into my jeans while still wearing Jake’s shirt. Jake puts on another white shirt, and I laugh at the matching outfits while Jake thinks it’s silly. I grab my bag, and we’re off.

Jake unlocks the car door for me, and I climb inside. “Back in the kitchen, I missed something, didn’t I?” I ask as he starts the car.

“What are you talking about?” Jake keeps his eyes on the road.

“Something between you and Tyler?” I ask him and continue, “You were giving him some looks.”

“Oh, yeah. What about it?” He is smiling as if he remembered something.

“What did I miss?” I am wondering about whatever it is.

“I can’t tell you, Evans. Bro-code.” Jake pinches my cheeks and makes an adorable face when I pout.

Jake cuts off the engine at the same time as Dad exits the front door.

“Oh no,” I say when I recall telling my parents about staying at Kristy’s place.

I get out of the car, and Dad smiles at me. I could hear the opening and closing of the car’s door, and Jake greets my dad, “Hello sir.”

“Hello Jake, call me Joseph.” Dad shakes his hand.

Jake doesn’t stay; he walks away, not before saying he’ll text me later.

I enjoy time with my parents. Just the two of them, catching me up on their hospital stories. I keep texting Jake the whole time, and he keeps saying one thing: to come upstairs to the window.

“How come Jake dropped you earlier? I thought you were at Kristy’s,” Mom asks.

And, honestly, I was waiting for this question to come up. There’s no point in lying.

“After our win yesterday, Tyler, one of my friends, and our team captain had a party, and we ended up there. Mom, his mansion is huge.”

“What is his name again?” Dad asks.

“Tyler Bradshaw.”

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