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“Quinn’s”
― All the Right Places
― All the Right Places
“So,” Cal said, drawing out the word, “that was Margo. Your roommate. The one you’re not attracted to. The one you don’t think about ‘that way.’”
Jake snorted. “He thinks about her ‘that way’ and a thousand other ways, too, I’ll bet.”
“At least a thousand,” Cal agreed. “In the car. On a bar. Against a door. On the floor. In the shower. In a tower.” He paused. “I’m channeling Dr. Seuss.”
Jake snickered. “On a bed. In a shed. In a tent. Under a vent. On a slope. With some rope.” “Rope is too rough. It chafes delicate skin,” Cal noted. “I prefer to use one of my ties.”
Zeke crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you done yet?”
“Why are you still here? Don’t you have anything better to do?” Cal asked.
“Yes, you do. Her name is Margo.”
― The Perfect Fit
Jake snorted. “He thinks about her ‘that way’ and a thousand other ways, too, I’ll bet.”
“At least a thousand,” Cal agreed. “In the car. On a bar. Against a door. On the floor. In the shower. In a tower.” He paused. “I’m channeling Dr. Seuss.”
Jake snickered. “On a bed. In a shed. In a tent. Under a vent. On a slope. With some rope.” “Rope is too rough. It chafes delicate skin,” Cal noted. “I prefer to use one of my ties.”
Zeke crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you done yet?”
“Why are you still here? Don’t you have anything better to do?” Cal asked.
“Yes, you do. Her name is Margo.”
― The Perfect Fit
