Page 10 of The Goat in the Bedroom
“Yeah, well. Story of my life. People leave. Opportunities come up. Life moves on.” Being friends with Gryff was the longest relationship I'd ever had.
He grabbed my braid and gave it a tug, pulling my head down to his shoulder, then wrapped his arm around me. “I'm not going anywhere, my strawberry girl. I mean... I am going to LA, but you'll be there too. And even if you weren't, you can't shake me. You're stuck with me for life. Like a bad toenail fungus.”
“Great. Just what I need. Athlete's foot with benefits.”
“I am a fun guy.” He snort-laughed. I refused to acknowledge his really bad dad joke. “Get it. Fun guy, like fungi, you know mushrooms are fung?—“
“You're the worst.” But also he was the best.
“Wanna get drunk and play some FortFite?”
This was the next step in the usual distraction when either of us went through a breakup. Pints of ice cream instead of tequila when either of us were in training, but tequila when we weren't. This was definitely a tequila and violent video games night.
“Strawberry margaritas?”
“You know it.”
Step two was to swear off dating. I was starting that part early. “Okay. But I'm getting the newToo Fox Too Furiousmovie skin. Because I'm officially swearing off dating and Fox Daws is forever my only man.”
“Deal. Then I'm officially swearing off dating, at least until graduation anyway. You can help me pick out a new sexy skin.” He stood and pulled me up with him.
I already missed that comforting arm around me and his solid chest under my head. If ever I was going to trust a promise that someone wouldn't let me go, it would be from this man. And for once in my life I was going to try my best never to fuck up this friendship.
“Like you're ever going to change out of the Kelsey Best Lady Bananaconda snake outfit and forever make me do the Real Reputation emote with you every twenty seconds.”
“Why would I? She's a badass and I'm undefeated.”
Who needed a love life when you had a best friend like mine?
GRADUATIONPALOOZA
GRYFF
Ialmost skipped my actual graduation ceremony. Watching six-hundred people I didn't know get their name called and handed a fake diploma that said we'd get the real deal in the mail once the school confirmed our fees were all paid up was not my idea of fun on a Saturday morning.
But Dad insisted everyone in the family go to my ceremony, then Flynn's. He was a stickler for tradition. He even insisted on going with me to Artie's ceremony too.
I think he secretly knew she was disappointed her dad couldn't make it over from Scotland for the day. This wasn't the first time he'd stepped into a dad role for a Kingman kid's friend.
And then we had to wait another two weeks before Jules's graduation ceremony.
How in the world my little sister, youngest of the Kingmans, was old enough to be graduating from high school was a mystery of the universe. I was pretty sure she was still eight years old. Not eighteen.
We were definitely the loudest, rowdiest cheer squad when she walked across the stage and got her diploma. You'd have thought she'd just won the Big Bowl and Miss Universe while curing cancer, solving climate change, and declaring worldpeace by the time she turned and waved to us in the stands of the Thornminster High gymnasium.
Not that she couldn't do all of those things. Knowing the powerhouse that was the Kingman princess, she probably would.
I pulled into the driveway of the family house and immediately laughed my ass off. Palm trees. Enormous fake palm trees lined the walkway to our front door, complete with tiny string lights and a banner reading “California Dreamin’” fluttering in the Colorado breeze. The Beach Boys blasted from the backyard.
“What the hell?” Flynn muttered, shaking his head and laughing as he climbed out of his truck behind me and circled around to open the door for Tempest.
“Maybe she's just excited for you?” Artie asked as she jumped out of the passenger side of my truck. Jules was exactly the type to throw a themed party with an agenda. This had to be her campaign to come spend the summer with us in LA. All she had to do was ask. Little weirdo.
“Like really, really excited.” Tempest laughed as we walked up to the porch.
The front door burst open before we could knock, and Chris's wife, Trixie, practically bounced down the steps in a flowing sundress and oversized white sunglasses.
“The grads are here,” she announced, wrapping us in hugs that smelled like her vanilla perfume. Behind her, Willa appeared with a t-shirt in each hand clearly meant for each of us.
