Anderson: I’ll be home around six. Any time after that is cool with me.
Me: K. See ya later.
Right on. If I wasn’t so fucking achy at the moment, I’d actually feel excitement. But I can’t feel anything right now other than agony. It’s been a busy four days for him and his family, so it worked out well for me. I was able to text him here and there, as not to make him think anything was wrong other than my fictitious food poisoning.
By the time I stroll back into the kitchen, Kalen’s got three lines laid out—two for me and one for him, I’m assuming. The shake in my hands increases the closer I get to the counter, and my body is buzzing. In a few minutes, I’ll feel okay again. Feel normal.
“You’re up, boss.” He winks, handing me the rolled-up bill.
Grabbing it from him, my palms sweat, and my mouth salivates. I can practically taste the crushed-up powder that’s seconds away from dripping down the back of my throat. Feel it flying up through my nostril, into my bloodstream.
Bringing the bill up to the line, I inhale the entirety of it into my nose, immediately moving onto the second one to do the same. Standing tall, I hand the bill to Kalen, my head thrown back on my shoulders. “Ah, fuck,that’s good.”
The pill burns and it’s bitter as fuck, but in a few minutes the warm, light feeling will spread through my body, healing every ache. It’ll be like the last four days never even happened.
Kalen’s done with his line by the time I focus my attention. Pulling out my wallet, I hand him some cash before going to the fridge and grabbing two water bottles. Breaking the seal on mine, I down over half the bottle in one go. I’m thirsty as hell and now that the nausea has mostly subsided, I realize how dehydrated I am.
“Aye, not to cut this short or anything, but I got somewhere to be,” Kalen says, capping his water. “Hit me up Sunday, though.”
“Aight. Thanks, man.”
He lets himself out while I take the stairs two at a time up to my room. I fall back onto my bed, scrolling through social media as my body becomes light and numb.
I end up passing out for a few hours before deciding to get ready. If I’m going to Anderson’s, I’ll need a shower. It’s been three days since I’ve had one, so my skin feels grimy and sticky with sweat. I probably smell like a dumpster.
Once I’m clean and looking good as new, I hop in the Audi and make my way to his place. It’s Friday, so the traffic isn’t ideal. It takes me a little over an hour to get there. He texted me on my way here, letting me know they were all out back, so once I park, I head around the side of the house to the backyard.
Their backyard is gorgeous. It’s several acres and the grass is always the greenest of greens. They have an enormous canopy tent, strung with string lights, surrounded by tiki torches. There is an in-ground firepit encased with stone, and their patio furniture looks like it’s straight out of a Pier 1 catalog. Farther down the yard, there is a pond that’s surrounded by LED lights.
When the sun goes down, their outdoor space is a whole vibe.
Anderson’s dad spots me before anyone else. He is such an all-American dad, with his apron that saysThe Grillfatheron it, a BBQ spatula in his hand, and his khaki shorts paired with flip-flops. His smile is wide and bright as he raises his hand in the air. “Crew! So glad you could make it.”
“Hi, Mr. Walker. Thanks for having me. How are you?”
“Oh, good, good. How about yourself, son? How’s Western treating you?”
My hands fist inside my pockets as I grin. “It’s great, sir. Can’t complain.”
We make small talk about the weather, his firm, and how my parents are for several minutes before Anderson comes outside, walking up to us. Good fucking Lord, he looks fine. The plain, sage green t-shirt he’s wearing makes his eyes pop even more and is tight fitting. Every ridge and dip of his shoulders and chest on display. His tan oxford shorts look great against his toned, tan legs, and he’s wearing a pair of Sperry shoes the same color as his shirt. He dressed like a fucking rich kid, but in the sexiest fucking way.
His hair looks like his fingers have run through it a time or two and the silver chain around his neck is begging to be pulled on while he’s on top of me.
“Hey, man,” he says with a genuine smile. “When’d you get here?”
“Uh, like ten minutes ago, maybe?”
“We were just catching up, son.” His dad flashes another pearly grin before turning back to flip the burgers on the grill.
“C’mon, got something to show you inside.” Anderson spins on his heel, heading back toward the house. Without a single clue what he’d need to show me, I follow behind him all the same. My eyes immediately zero in on the way his shorts hug his ass. Entering through the back door, we walk right into the kitchen. Mrs. Walker is in there fixing up what looks to be a potato salad.
“Crew, hi, honey.” She gives me a warm smile.
“Hey, Mrs. Walker. That looks good.”
“Thank you, dear.”
Crossing the space, I wrap my arm around her in a loose hug as she turns her face, allowing me to kiss her cheek. The Walkers are a very affectionate family. They hug, say they love each otheroften, and making time for one another is a priority. I’ve always felt slightly envious of Anderson and Aston for growing up with parents like theirs, who so obviously care about them, but I’ve appreciated how they’ve treated their kids’ friends like they were their own. I’ve always felt loved in this house.