Corey watched him, wondering, leave it? Or dig deeper?
Corey pretended to give a shit about whether he burned the chops, and muttered, “Just, you know, I hope you’re being careful.”
“I’m not sixteen, and even when I was, and she was mine then too, I took care of her.”
Corey didn’t have to pretend anything when he turned squinted eyes at his friend and demanded, “You fucked her when she was fourteen?”
“No, Corey, Jesus,” Duncan returned, getting even more pissed. “And just to say, this was one of the ways I took care of her. I let her decide when we went there, or if we went there. But this is none of your business either. Genny would not want us talking about it, that being the reason you and I never talk about it. And pointing it out when I probably don’t need to, that’s another way I take care of her.”
That was a warning to back off.
It was also something for Corey to turn over in his head.
How would Genny react if she knew he and Duncan had talked about this?
“Since you got somethin’ up your ass, I hate to point something else out, but still…you’re burning the chops,” Duncan noted.
Corey focused, and Dun was right.
The fat had sizzled onto the coals, the flames had risen, and suddenly, the idea of burning the chops annoyed him beyond reason.
This was because Duncan could man a grill like no other.
He’d never burn a fucking chop.
Corey shifted the meat around.
Duncan then went fishing, Corey knew he was when he asked, “Everything all right with Sam?”
His wife Samantha was very pretty.
However, not as pretty as Gen.
She was very sweet.
Though not as sweet as Genny.
She was exceptionally smart.
But although Genny was not as intellectual as Sam, she was far from dumb and far more talented than Sam could ever be.
He’d found Samantha and he’d liked her, been attracted to her, she was great in bed—a real go-getter, both career-wise and making Corey come harder than he’d even thought possible.
But he’d dated her in an effort to get Genny to notice he had a dick.
She didn’t.
Then Corey pushed it to the limit, engagement, huge-ass wedding, the whole thing, all in the hopes that Genny would shake the blinders of “friendship” from her eyes and see him as the man who could give her everything.
Not only everything Duncan couldn’t, but everything.
Like a new condo in a trendy neighborhood for her early wedding present.
That kind of everything.
She didn’t see it, and then suddenly, Corey’s ass was married, Gen was back with Dun, and Corey was in hell.
“Are you even alive in there?” Duncan asked, concern edging his tone, though it was also sharp because he was still pissed.
“Sam and I are great,” Corey mumbled.
“Then what’s up your ass?” Dun asked.
“I care about you and Genny, okay?” Corey snapped. “It’s not only not a crime, you two are my best friends. I was the one caught in the middle the last time you didn’t work out, remember? I was the one putting together the pieces after you broke her heart.”
What he did not say was he loved every minute of it.
Until he realized he wasn’t going to get anything out of it.
But what he said hit its mark.
Duncan appeared chastised.
Though, that was probably more his pain at breaking Genny’s heart (something that had also gutted him back when he’d done it, mostly because he didn’t want to do it) than his guilt that Corey had to pick up the pieces. Regardless of the fact there was no reason for the guilt since Corey looked at picking up those pieces as an opportunity.
Then.
And to be brutally honest, if only to himself, now.
“I hear you, Cor, but we’re back together and it’s all good. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“There’s more to all good than using orgasms to blind her to the state of things.”
Duncan was getting pissed again. “The state of what things?”
“She’s not going to break into Broadway doing local commercials at the same time she’s teaching fourth grade.”
“She’s thinking more LA,” Duncan said, as if to himself.
Corey burst out laughing, and this was genuine.
Duncan in LA?
Hilarious.
Duncan mistook him.
“What’s funny? And, man, careful how you answer that.”
He thought Corey was laughing about the possibility of Genny making it in Hollywood.
Corey was quick to remedy that misunderstanding.
“I’m thinking about you in LA.”
“Right then, what’s funny about that?” Dun shot back. “I’ll learn how to surf. Always wanted to do that. And they got parks. I’ll look into becoming a ranger.”
Corey allowed his lips to twitch as he feigned interest in the chops again.
It was low, and hurt, when Duncan pushed, “Now what’s funny about that?”
And that was when Corey remembered.
Like he always did.
It was the hurt in Dun’s tone that made him remember.
Though it was getting later and later these days whenever he thought about Duncan (and Genny, but also just Duncan), or had a conversation with Duncan.