Page 90 of Freshmeet
He chuckled, setting his phone on the coffee table. “There. My phone’s down. Now what?”
Grant and I looked at each other. We didn’t have any ideas. That’s why we were playing video games. But now the gauntlet was down, and it was time to come up with something great.
“Uh.”
“Why don’t we . . .”
Jamie released a long-suffering sigh, but his small smile gave him away. “Come on. I know what we can do.” He jumped off the couch.
“Wait for me!” Tom yelled from the bathroom.
“Hurry up!” Jamie dug through the kitchen drawers. “Do you have any lighters?”
“We’re not doing anything illegal, are we? I’m not interested in getting arrested. I just got my freedom back from the government.” Grant tugged the dog tags around his neck, his eyes shifting around nervously.
“Not illegal, more like frowned upon. Bingo!” He slammed the drawer closed and raised the lighter in the air. “You guys are not seriously worried about the police, are you?”
I shrugged, not relishing the idea of dealing with Kirksville’s finest. Or Uncle Rick.
“You guys literally stole a tractor and drove it through town,” Jamie said.
“That was Tom’s dad’s tractor. It was hardly stealing.”
“Fine, Con. How about when the cops picked you up with backpacks full of spray paint in the same color as the dick painted on the water tower?”
“Hey, we did our community service, and that was before we were eighteen, so our records are clean,” Tom said, coming out of the bathroom, wiping his hands down his thighs. Dude never dried his hands completely. Totally grossed me out.
“I see where this is going, so I’m done arguing. Let’s go.” Jamie walked out of the apartment.
We filed out, and I locked the door, praying that Jamie’s idea of a fun night wouldn’t be anything too wild.
When I caught up with the guys on the street, Jamie held out his hand. “Keys, please.”
“No way.”
“Come on. You don’t know the plan.”
“Then tell me, and I’ll drive.”
“Nope.”
Tom snatched the keys from my hand and tossed them to Jamie.
“Hey!”
“Sorry, but Jamie’s right. We’re acting like old men. It’s time to fuck some shit up!”
Tom and Grant jumped in the back, and Jamie got behind the wheel.
“Connor! Connor! Connor!” All three of them chanted, slowly at first, but then ramping up until they sounded like they were at a ballgame. People smoking outside the bar joined in, and as others walked up, the voices grew until I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Fine! Just shut the hell up!” I got into the passenger seat to my friends’ cheering and whistling, and some of the people on the curb booing me. “Drive, Jamie.”
Rubbing the steering wheel, he bounced in his seat. “Yes, sir!” Turning the engine over, he murmured something I didn’t catch. “Strap in, boys. Get ready for a bumpy ride.”
Half an hour later, Jamie pulled up to the place you would park if you were going to the abandoned ski lodge.
“Really? This is your big idea?” Tom laughed, chugging the rest of his road beer.
