Aras frowned. “No. Wouldn’t mind beating the shit out of some of the pillows up in my room, but no talking.”
“Seems healthy.”
“Healthier than punching that stupid contractor in the face.”
Evander nodded. “I heard about that. Didn’t have nice things to say about Melanie’s mom and dad?”
“No. He didn’t. As though you can justdecidewhether it’s worth putting in the actual work for a client.” He shook his head. “Don’t get me started on the whole thing again. It’s not good for my heart.”
“Right. Because you usually run so chill and calm.”
A tiny smile pulled at Aras’s lips before almost immediately vanishing. “Anyway. Shouldn’t be taking my shit out on you. Doesn’t mean you’re not obviously twitchy and worked up about something.”
Ev wanted to push back on that again, but if Aras was still pounding that drum, maybe there was actually something to it. “You haven’t gotten significantly chattier over the last couple years, have you?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’ve always been pretty stable and probably haven’t had a major personality shift.”
“Bingo. If you’ve got some secret, may as well spill it here. Take my mind off this bullshit from today.” He jerked his head toward a couple of chairs tucked into a corner of the lobby. He headed that way and, after a brief hesitation, Ev followed. Once they were both settled, Aras crossed one leg up onto the other. “So, you ready to answer the question that started this whole stupid mess, now?”
Ev really wasn’t, but this was no time to stop being honest. Especially not with one of his oldest friends. Didn’t mean they had to go straight for the core of the issue. “You have any opinions on me and Ozzy? When we were together?”
“Tons. I have opinions on everything.” He raked his gaze up and down Evander, then smiled again. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about trying something again already.”
“Got found out quick.” It was somehow a lot easier for Aras to say it rather than Ev having to admit it himself. “Bad idea? Honest opinion.”
“I was just hoping it would take you another couple weeks. Now I owe Mason twenty bucks.”
Evander raised an eyebrow. “You were betting on the two of us… Do I need to comment on how supremely fucked that is?”
Aras rolled his eyes. “Suddenly you’re all bashful and demure? No room to be catty? Since fucking when?”
“That’s not what this is about.”
“Yeah it is. You don’t have to think so, but this isn’t any more scandalous or awful than when you helped me make a bunch of sock puppet accounts to trick my ex into outing the fact he was cheating on me, or when Mason and Robinson strung those Mormon missionaries along so they could keep checking them out while they worked around the house, or when Ozzy and Jake would get drunk and—”
“All right, I get your point. Still don’t love it.” Evander sighed and ground his teeth a bit before catching himself. No good internalizing, and especially not if it put his smile at risk. “How many people are in on this betting pool of yours?”
“Me. Mason. Robinson. Jake and Bunny both refused to put up any cash for it. I really thought it would take a while for you guys to drift back together.”
“We’re so predictable that all of our friends knew we’d be idiots.”
“No one’s allowed to wander around calling everyone idiots except for me. And I only get away with it because of my striking, aquiline features.”
Ev snorted. “And the fact you actually mean it.” Honestyalwayslent itself to authenticity. Duh.
“Of course I mean it. I’m a horrible, unpleasant man.” He grinned madly, a genuine smile that Aras honestly didn’t pull out all that often. Evander had his theories over the years—his biggest one was that Aras simply hated crowds and did better one-on-one—but it was always a treat to get to see that half-crazed grin. Even when he was being self-deprecating.
Then Aras leaned back. “You’ll notice I’m not calling anyone in this situation an idiot.”
“Getting me and Oswald back together isn’t stupid?”
“God no. You two are miserable fucks when you’re not with each other. At least, if you’re spending time around each other while you’re broken up. Always sniping at each other. This bullshit dick-measuring with the patio?”
“It’s not—”
Aras popped him in the forehead with his middle finger. Not hard, but enough to stop him from talking. “It’s a dick-measuring contest or some proxy war you’re fighting against your ex or whatever you want to call it. You know full well that who’stechnicallyin charge of that one stupid chunk of concrete doesn’t fucking matter.”
