“Shit. Fuck,” I hiss, hesitating between ignoring whoever it is and continuing to sit here and watch Emmie go about her evening.
“Theodore,” a familiar voice sings. “We know you’re in there.”
“Fuck. Fuck.”
Reluctantly, I close my tablet and grab a tissue from the kitchen to wipe my stomach with as I head for the front door.
“What fucking took you so long? Having some one-on-one time with your Christmas present?” Alex mocks.
“Fuck you, man.”
“Dude, are you fucking blushing?” Nico asks, sounding way too amused by the situation. “You fucking are.”
“Bro, you were totally knocking one out, staring at a picture of your hot missus,” Alex announces.
“You fucking coming in or what?” I ask, noticing the bottles of vodka in both Alex and Nico’s hands.
“Depends whether you’ve finished or not.”
“Jesus, get out of the fucking way,” Toby mutters, shoving Alex aside and barging into my flat.
He’s moved into his own place over the past week. I haven’t even been down to check it out because I’m a fucking terrible friend.
My eyes catch the swelling on his knuckles that rivals my own.
“How’s the old man doing?” I ask him, knowing exactly who he’s been torturing.
“Exactly as he deserves,” Toby shoots over his shoulder.
“I should probably go pay him another visit. He must be missing me.”
“Where did you just shoot all your jizz?” Alex shouts, looking at my sofa suspiciously. “I don’t wanna sit in it.”
Swiping my phone and tablet from the coffee table, I tell them I’ll be back in a minute and head to my bedroom to get just a little more of my Emmie fix.