Page 17 of Stranger Danger

I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Not now. But with a blindfold on, and your chapstick—”

“My lips chap when the temp drops.”

“I wear chapstick too, but it’s not—it’s not bubblegum, man.”

His face scrunches. “Okay? It's cotton candy flavored, but. Whatev.”

“Go back to being a cover demon.”

He doesn’t.

Instead, he keeps staring, the same way he has been since our walk back. Then his lips roll together. He cups both hands over his mouth, and dissolves into wild, uncontrollable giggles. In less than a second, he’s underneath the comforter again, laughing like a wild hyena.

I’ve never heard anything like it in my entire life.

Ira’s laughed, sure, but it’s as quiet as he is. Half the time, we all think he’s coughing or sneezing.

This is… different.

“Oh my God,” he gasps. “You’re straight?”

“Last twenty-one years of my life, yeah.”

“I fucking can’t.”

The laughter continues, and the only thing I can do is watch the comforter vibrate.

Even his voice sounds different. It’s like I’m just now figuring out who the hell my roommate is, and it’s not the soft, sweet kid we all took in.

Ira doesn’t cuss. Ira doesn’t laugh like he’s some manic pixie.

I think I broke my roommate.

Thankfully, it stops after a while. The howls dissolve back into giggles, and then something that sounds like he’s coughing or choking on air.

“Sorry,” the comforter mumbles.

“You’re good, man.”

I flip open the laptop again and get comfortable on my bed.

Within a few minutes, I’m back in the zone. I keep separate, color-coded tabs for every possible house that’s on the market based on distance, neighborhood size, and population density. I can swing by at least two of these open houses tomorrow and scope out the surrounding areas.

I reach over to grab a can of pop from the box and catch one of Ira’s eyes—his head’s poking out of the comforter, one arm thrown above his head.

“Can I say something?” he asks, back to his normal voice.

“Yeah. Go for it.”

“I…” He presses his lips together. “I heard you in the bathroom. I didn’t mean to, but I was going to tell you I was leaving.”

Death would be a more suitable option right about now.

Maybe I can strangle myself.

My mouth opens, but absolutely nothing comes out. I’m frozen in place, warm pop can dangling from my fingers. Every single possible thought flies out the window, and the only thing I can do is blink.

“You’ve never done anything with a guy?” he asks quietly. “Even for a prank?”