“Why are you up so bright and early?” Whit asks, leaning his head back and squeezing the strudel packet directly into his mouth.
“Bright and early? Dude. It’s almost noon,” I scold.
“So? It’s Saturday,” Whit says, pouring Booker a cup of coffee.
“Thanks, man.” Booker nods, taking a sip and sitting at the counter.
“What the hell? Why don't you give him shit about drinking his coffee black?”
Whit shakes his head. “He’s an athlete, dude. Doesn’t need the extra sugar. You, on the other hand? You’re just not right. Maybe your ass wouldn’t be so grumpy if you put a little sweetener in your coffee.”
“Or got laid,” Knox adds helpfully, then takes a long sip of his doctored coffee. I give him the finger. “You making breakfast, Whit? Or am I just going back to bed?”
“Yea, I’ll make waffles. We’re almost out of eggs. Somebody needs to go to the store soon.”
He tosses the empty toaster pastry box in the general direction of the recycling bin, but misses spectacularly, so I pick it up and toss it where it belongs. “We need to talk about this place. It’s turning into a shithole.”
“Relax. We had a party last night. Besides,” Knox says, surveying our space, “it doesn’t look too bad.”
I lift my three trash bags up like trophies. “That’s because I just cleaned, dipshit.”
Knox just rolls his eyes and starts grabbing the ingredients for waffles.
Whit begins mixing the batter. “Check the fridge. Do we have strawberries? Hey Book, you up for a waffle?”
“Nah, I’m leaving soon anyway.”
“What the hell? Where are you going?” Whit asks.
Booker mumbles his answer as he puts his mug in the dishwasher. But Whit’s not letting it go. “What?”
Booker sighs. “A purity retreat.”
“A what-the-fuck retreat?” Knox asks. I jab him in the ribs. “Dude, pretty sure there’s no fucking at a purity retreat.”
Booker laughs. “Uh, no. Especially because it’s all guys, and yea...that would not fall under the guidelines set forth by the church.”
“Dude,” Whit says, that one syllable carrying a lot of weight.
“I know, I know. But it’s easier this way. Besides, it’s one night. It’ll be fine.”
“Sitting around with a bunch of guys you barely know talking about ridding yourselves of impure thoughts sounds like the exact opposite of fine,” Whit tells him, and I have to agree.
“It won’t be that bad,” Booker sighs. “If I don’t go, I’ll have to deal with my dad, so, trust me, this is easier.”
“If you say so,” Whit shakes his head. “But I’m making you an egg sandwich for the road.”
“I thought we were out of eggs?”
Whit shakes his head. “Nah, we’ve got two left and they’re all yours.”
“No fair!” Knox whines.
“You wanna trade places? I’ll give you my egg sandwich if you take my spot at the purity retreat,” Booker teases as he heads up the steps.
“Fuck no!” Knox calls after him. “I’d probably burst into flames just walking into that place. Your eggs are killer, Whit, but they’re not worth spontaneous combustion.”
“No offense taken,” Whit assures him.
