“But look at you. You’re fucking perf—” “You know what I hate?” Clyde’s voice filters from down the hall, the soft thud of his slow, shuffled footsteps shocking us both into stillness. “How thirsty I am all the time now.” We fly into action. I scoop up my clothes and dart for the back door as Gwen scrambles for her sweatshirt. “I must be the most hydrated man in the world,” I hear him say right as I quietly shut the door behind myself. “Where’s Bash? And why are your socks over here?”
God dammit Clyde
