My mouth opens and shuts, and then a loud laugh erupts out of me, and people turn to stare.
“Well, shit. Maybe weshouldgo at it then. You could be my first,” I joke.
Magnus shakes his head and then shakes it some more. “I…”
“Just kidding,” I say, playfully nudging him, and he almost tumbles out of his chair. “We can just hang out and play some video games. Maybe have a beer.”
Magnus considers my offer and then nods, sliding out of his chair and following me to the door of the coffee shop. He stands at least a foot shorter than me, and I have the urge to throw him over my shoulder just to mess with him.
* * *
“What’s he doing here?” Whit asks, his eyes narrowed as I come through the front door with Magnus slung over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
He was squealing a moment ago, pinching my sides and swatting at my ass, trying to get me to put him down. But he chokes it back when he hears Whit’s disapproval.
“I made a new friend,” I tell him as I set Magnus down on the floor. He smooths out his wrinkled clothes and messy hair and clears his throat.
“Hi, Whit.”
Whit glances at Magnus and nods. Then turns those dark eyes toward me. “Caleb, I’d like to speak to you.”
He nods toward the room, but I ignore him, walking to the fridge instead and grabbing two beers. I’m a little salty at the moment, mainly because Whit didn’t come home last night and because I’m apparently not his type.
I hand a beer to Magnus, who holds it awkwardly in his hands, and when he doesn’t uncap it, I do it for him, letting the cap sail to the floor with a satisfying clink.
Whit arches an eyebrow, and I sigh heavily.
“Okay, Mag, just get a game started. I’ll be right back.”
Magnus nods, looking between Whit and me before moving to the couch and plopping down. His feet barely touch the floor.
I follow Whit to the bedroom, where he shuts the door and leans against it. I move to open my beer, and Whit says, “If you drop that cap on the floor….”
“You’ll what?” I ask my fingers on the cap.
He narrows his eyes at me, and I smirk, twisting it off and holding it between my fingers, dangling it over the floor.
That look he’s giving me like he’d like to paddle my ass is causing problems down south. I shift on my feet, pocket the cap, and then take a swig of my beer.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
Shrugging, I reply, “I invited Magnus over to hang.”
“Why?”
“Because we ran into each other.”
Fuck this guy with his questions, I think, as anger boils up inside of me.
“And where did you run into each other?” he asks.
“The coffee shop. You interrogating me now, Sherlock?”
Whit folds his arms across his chest and narrows his eyes at me. “And you just happened to have a conversation with the guy who is terrified of you and then invited him over to hang out?”
It does seem a little ridiculous when he puts it that way.
I scratch at my jaw and shrug. “He came up to me. Started sniffling and looking like a lost puppy. I felt sorry for him. He’s so…fragile.”