For whatever reason, Logan seemed to think that was pretty funny. “Absolutely. Promise.”
“Cool.” Grady paused. The conversation was over now, right? He could go back to his chips? And maybe some water. Fuck, he was thirsty. Probably all the sodium. “Good talk. See you around.”
MAX WOKEup the morning after the party without a hangover and thought,Good job, Grady.
But when he lifted his head to deliver his thanks in person, Grady wasn’t there. Rude.
Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Max sat up. “Grades?”
The light in the bathroom went on and Grady appeared, holding a glass of water. “Hey, sorry. Did I wake you up?”
No, Max’s bladder had done that. He shook his head. “Can I…?”
Grady got out of the way and let Max drain the tank.
He wasn’t in the bedroom when Max returned—probably downstairs figuring out breakfast, Max thought hopefully. He plucked his phone off the charger and went downstairs in search of sustenance.
Sadly, Grady wasn’t cooking, he was chugging a Gatorade.
“You good?” Max asked. He hoped they weren’t having a repeat of the Sea Legs Fiasco.
Grady finished the bottle and made a face. “Just a weirdly dry mouth this morning.”
“At least you’re not hungover.” Speaking of, Max wondered what the damage was. He could’ve let people crash overnight, but instead he paid for sober drivers. He and Grady only had so much summer to spend together, and their privacy felt precious.
Which reminded him—he wanted to check on who felt the most like death this morning. His money was on his mom, who’d gotten into a bottle of sparkling Gewürztraminer and seemed to have no inclination to climb out again.
“Eggs for breakfast?” Grady asked, which, obviously, so Max hummed in agreement as he unlocked his phone.
He had one unread text message from Logan, time-stamped earlier this morning.Just out of curiosity, how hungover is your bf this morning?
Max frowned.He’s fine. Why?
Three dots. Then,No reason. In case I haven’t said it, I’m happy for you or whatever. Please never talk to me about your kinks.
Huh. Max looked at Grady, who was on his second Gatorade while he started the eggs, and then back at his phone, and felt a niggling of suspicion. “Hey, did you have a conversation with my brother last night?”
Grady huffed. “Can you be more specific? ’Cause I had a conversation with everyone last night.”
“This one would’ve been about our sex life.”
He wrinkled his nose as he pulled the eggs toward him across the bottom of the frying pan. “What the fuck?” he said. “Why would I—”
And then the blood drained from his face.
“Why would I do that?” Grady groaned, backing away from the stove to pull at his hair. Max stood and took over; he didn’t want crunchy eggs. “I wasn’t even drunk. I had, like, three beers!”
“I don’t think it was the beer that was the problem. You drink anything fruity?”
Grady let go of his hair and lowered his arms. “What are you thinking?”
“We’re in Canada. Did you drink one of Nora’s coolers? ’Cause they’re not booze, they’re THC. And if you drank it thinking it was booze, you were probably high as fuck.” Those things packed a punch.
He groaned again, this time in recognition. “That would explain the dry mouth. And the munchies.”
“And oversharing to my brother?” Max prodded, because whatever had happened, he absolutely needed to know. It was going to be hilarious.
Finally Grady found the humor too, and his mouth twitched a little. “I think he was trying to do the whole protective big-brother thing. ‘Max is a gentle, sensitive soul, and he’s so in love with you, you better not break his heart.’”
