Page 28 of The Friend Scheme
Even under the harsh porch light, he looks fantastic. I’ve never seen him wear casual clothes, but they suit him really well. He’swearing a dark red T-shirt and navy skinny jeans, along with cool Nikes that were probably really expensive. They look kind of extra.
“Hey,” I say. “Thanks for coming.”
“No, thanks for having me.”
Eddie is going wild, like he wants to lick Jason to death.
I mean, I get that.
Jason crouches and starts petting Eddie. “Who’s a good boy?”
Eddie sits proudly and lets Jason rub his chest.
“He likes you,” I say. “He’s normally way more skittish with new people.”
“Really? That’s, like, the highest compliment possible. I love dogs.”
“Me too.”
Jason stands. Oh man, Eddie really does like him. He’s nudging at his legs, wanting more attention. But now Jason is looking at me.
What’s the proper greeting for something like this?
I go for a handshake, and he ignores it, going for a hug instead. And he’s agreathugger. He’s so firm, and yet… we kind of sink into each other.
It’s perfect.
“Should I take my shoes off?” he asks as we break apart.
“Nah, it’s fine.”
“Cool.”
We walk inside.
“Anyway,” I say. “Um, are you hungry?”
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I am, yeah. Is that all right? I could’ve eaten before, but I thought…”
“Yeah, dude, ’course. I was thinking we could order pizza orsomething. There’s this New York–style place down the road that does honestly the best pizza I’ve ever had.”
“That sounds fucking amazing.”
“Great.”
I close the door behind him and lead him through the entrance foyer, into the kitchen. I walk around the kitchen island while Jason checks out the place. Eddie brings Jason his favorite toy, a chewed-up rope with a ball on the end of it. Jason tosses it, and Eddie runs off to retrieve it.
“Do you want a drink?” I ask.
I open the fridge and scan the options. There’s white wine, but that’s Dad’s. Luke keeps a couple of bottles of beer on the bottom shelf, because Dad isn’t super strict about him drinking. I could offer him one of those, but Jason might not like that. I get the idea he’s pretty straight-edge.
Or as straight-edge as someone in our world can be.
“I’m good,” he says as he throws the toy again. “Thanks, though.”
I close the fridge and turn back. “No problem.”
“Nice place, by the way,” he says.
