Me: Lose my number.
His reply comes fast.
Revel: Can’t. You stole my hoodie.
I glance toward the laundry basket, where the hoodie is half hanging out like a guilty secret.
Me: Borrowed.
Revel: You slept in it, didn’t you?
Heat creeps into my cheeks, which is rude as hell because yes.
Obviously, I did.
Me: No. I used it as a blanket for my cat.
Revel: That’s a lie, but I’ll pretend. What a lucky cat.
Me: Don’t flirt with Guacamole. He has standards.
Revel: Higher than yours?
My mouth drops open.
“Oh, he’s bold today.”
Guacamole snores from his bed, completely unbothered.
Me: Wow. One kiss and suddenly your balls dropped, huh?
Revel: Two, actually. But I love that even after “nothing happened,” you’re over there thinking about my balls.
I hate him.
I hate that I laugh more.
It slips out before I can stop it, small and stupid, and Guacamole lifts his head just enough to look at me from the bed.
I press my lips together.
“What?” I say. “He’s not funny.”
Guacamole blinks.
“Okay, he’s a little funny. Don’t make it a thing.”
Me: Nothing happened, and trust me, your balls never cross my mind. Nothing about you does, besides annoyance.
There.
Mature. Firm. Clear.
Revel: Sure, mama.
I narrow my eyes.
Me: So how’s the team’s dental insurance? Just making sure you’re covered for when I see you again.