Greg shook his head at me. “Jesus, Sutton, you’re really into this, aren’t you?” “It’s your fault I’m even here,” I said, pointing my beer bottle at him. “You and Travis. He push, push, pushes me to do the best, to be the best. He gets right up my arse about it.” Greg grinned behind his beer bottle. “I bet he does.” Allan spat beer across the table, and Greg busted up laughing so hard, I think he almost did himself some internal damage. I thought about what I’d said… Travis gets right up my arse… Oh. My. God.
