Page 8 of Tall, Dark, & Ginger

THREE

RIDLEY

Flippingthrough channels looking for something to watch should be a hell of a lot easier than this, even at two in the morning. We have a shit ton of streaming channels and still there’s nothing good on.

Stupid insomnia. I’ve been battling this off and on for a decade now, and no amount of melatonin is fixing it. I’m not down for prescription drugs to treat this, so here I sit, scrolling through alien invasion movies in the middle of the night, waiting for edibles to kick in, but even those have lost their effectiveness for me most nights.

The stairs creak and I look over my shoulder to see none other than the ginger of my dreams entering the room. He has a sheepish smile on his face as he tugs on the hem of his white t-shirt. He’s wearing his hot pink basketball shorts, and his hair is a mess.

“Hey, Rid. Thought I’d come down and watch TV. Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all, man.” I pat the couch cushion. “I was deciding which B movie I planned to watch this fine evening.”

Wren chuckles, joining me on the sofa. “What’s your favorite genre?”

I shrug. “I’ll pretty much watch anything, but I do have a soft spot for zombies and alien invasions.”

“Yeah? I love zombie movies. I wanted to go seeZ Worldwhen it came out, but Trent doesn’t like horror.”

“That’s too bad. I thought it was a good movie. I was still in Chicago when it came out. Saw it with friends.” I grin. “Want to watch it now? I bet it’s streaming.”

His face lights up. “Yeah, I’m down.”

Using the search feature, I type in the title, finding it on the first hit.

“Would it be weird to get snacks?” Wren asks.

“Not at all. We have chips and popcorn, I think.”

“Oh, I was thinking fried egg sandwiches.”

“Hell yeah.”

We get up and walk to the kitchen together. Wren seems to be studying me more than usual, but maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

I sit at the island while he does his thing, grabbing eggs, cheese, bacon, and mayo from the fridge.

“Can I do something?”

“I got it. Unless you want to make us a drink.”

“I can do that.”

Hopping off the barstool, I open the fridge, scanning for drink options until my eyes land on the six-pack of ginger beer. “Moscow mule? We have vodka.”

“Works for me.”

I get busy mixing two cocktails while Wren flips eggs at the stove. It’s not the first time we’ve worked together in the kitchen, but this feels a little different, like he’s making an effort to connect with me. Even if it’s just as friends, that’s pretty cool.

I grab plates while Wren finishes his masterpiece. Even a simple egg sandwich is next-level when Wren makes it. Hemakes some kind of mayo sauce to smear on the bread, and it’s addictive.

We take our food and drinks back to the living room and settle in for the movie. After a few bites, Wren wipes his mouth and grins at me.

“Can I just say it’s wicked cool to have a friend to watch this kind of stuff with. Trent used to say there was something wrong with me that I can eat while someone is dying on screen. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me because there’s nothing wrong with you.”

Man, Trent really did a number on this guy. “I’m sorry you had such an unsupportive guy.”

He shrugs, licking sauce off his finger. “Don’t be. It went on too long, but that’s on me. I had a lot of reasons for staying that don’t make any fucking sense now, but they did at the time.”

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