Page 47 of Hot Mess Express
Trey smiles. “None taken, of course.”
I stare at Anthony across the table, finding myself taken aback by the sincerity in his words, despite the slurred speech.
I wonder suddenly if I know Anthony at all.
Trey quite suddenly redirects the attention. “Saving Bridger in the restaurant the way you did, Pete … That was something! Did you ever train in the Heimlich Maneuver? You reacted so fast!”
It takes Pete a hot second to shake off whatever’s on his mind before he answers Trey, and the conversation is steered back into something more pleasant. Even Cody seems to snap right out of it, laughing at something his husband says, then jumping into some other tangent that has Pete back to cackling.
Anthony is back to stuffing his face, oblivious to wherever the conversation’s gone.
Or maybe he really is still listening to it all and just has a great poker face. Or feels guilty, knowing he’s the reason for Pete having to perform the Heimlich on me at all.
I keep catching myself looking at Anthony across the table, now and then forgetting my own plate. And the lingering thought still circling my brain after dinner’s over has nothing to do with who’s a hero or how pristinely Trey’s garlic toast came out.
It’s that I still can’t figure out why Anthony kissed me.
“Really? He kissed you?” Pete asks me later.
We’re on the back patio. Anthony and Trey are in the kitchen cleaning up—Anthony volunteered to help out, surprisingly. Cody is “likely busy exploding the bathroom”, according to Trey, which is a bit more information than anyone needed to hear. Crickets are going nuts out in the dark, and a battalion of moths and June bugs are having a party trying to fuck the light bulb on the porch.
And I just told Pete about my church rendezvous last night. “Likely sleep deprived and out of his mind, that was it,” I go on, my arms crossed, leaning against a post.
“Doubt that. Maybe the guy’s closeted and saw you as a way to finally express himself?”
“Guy looked like he’d been wrung ragged for days.” I shake my head. “Couldn’t even change a single light. I don’t know why Trey hired him.”
Pete shrugs. “Maybe it wasn’t for his abilities.”
“Then what? Trey pities him?”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“You tell me. First time we met, he hated my guts. Then he’s either feeling me up or trying to kill me. And now he shows up tonight acting like nothing happened?”
“He wouldn’t be the first closeted small-town guy.”
“I don’t understand the first, second, or third thing going on in that boy’s head.” I peer back at the window, seeing Trey and Anthony together at the kitchen sink. “He’s … confusing.”
Pete’s hand appears on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Ididsay you couldn’t tell, even if a guy literally threw himself at you.”
“What?”
“Thick as mud, man.”
I shrug his hand off of me. “If you’re still trying to imply that that guy scrubbing alfredo sauce off plates in there isintome, that these past several days, he hasn’t been torturing me, but has beenhittingon me …”
“Dude. He literally just made out with you.”
“He’s got a girlfriend.”
“Did you confirm it’s hisactualgirlfriendand not just afriend?”
“He’d sooner literallyhitme than hitonme.”
“Maybe a smack on your ass, sure, but wouldn’t you like it?”
I snort. “Had my asssmackedenough by my dad as a kid. Don’t need any more of that. Good riddance to that miserable old man.”
